Czytaj książkę: «Amethyst Rapture»

Chapter One

Port au Prince, Haiti, 1811

Carlos gritted his teeth as the familiar burn of rum stung his throat. After weeks at sea he and his crew from the Venganza were taking advantage of time ashore. Port towns were always the same: rum, women and fighting, in that order. Life didn’t get much better.

In the smoke-filled room,Carlos watched his crew as each man took care of priorities in his own way. They were all drunk and most had women on their laps, fondling or being fondled by expert hands. Carlos, however, sat alone. His woman, Sheila, was still on Venganza. She was a dark-skinned whore he’d met in Jamaica four months earlier and had taken with him. Sheila’s ability to pleasure Carlos far outweighed any superstition about a woman on board being bad luck. Sheila never had to be forced or cajoled. She was always ready and willing for sex. The insatiable woman drove Carlos mad.

Sometimes Sheila drove her lover a little too crazy. Her appetite was so lustful she had a hard time being satisfied by only one man, even a man as virile and masculine as Carlos. It had happened more than once. Most recently Carlos had caught her fucking Raul, his first mate. Sheila had overstepped her bounds yet again as the captain’s property. As punishment she wasn’t allowed shore leave with the crew and was confined to quarters.

The Venganza’s crew were feared by most and thus no men were needed to stand guard. The only person left on the ship with Sheila was the teenaged cabin boy. Port au Prince was notoriously rough and Carlos ha’d left Jaime on board to keep him safe.

Carlos watched as his crew went upstairs one by one, each pulling a woman, or women, in tow. Some began pumping in the tap room beneath a doxy’s skirt until they were sweaty and spent. Seven scantily clad women were lined against the wall giggling amongst themselves. Their breasts were pushed up and overflowing their bodices. They had artificially red lips and bare legs were visible beneath their skirts, but Carlos resisted. There was something about Sheila that kept his interest. Sex with her was never boring. She was adventurous, even dangerous at times. She knew what she wanted and didn’t stop until she got it. That made her more desirable in Carlos’s eyes. He was tired of women who pretended after you handed them a coin. Carlos smiled to himself. He’d surprise Sheila and return to Venganza. He’d show her a little mercy. She was always wet for him. She was probably fucking her hand in desperation.

Carlos felt his cock stiffen. Watching wasn’t as good as the act itself , but it always excited him. Sitting next to Carlos, Raul had a woman straddling his lap. Her skirts were pulled up her legs. Raul’s fingers dug into a dark cocoa thigh. Her bodice was opened and Raul cupped a naked breast with one hand as he hungrily sucked on her nipples. The wench giggled. Carlos watched the contrast of the pink penis slipping in and out of the black pussy. The girl moved up and down, gyrating her hips. She bit her bottom lip and her eyes fluttered behind their closed lids. Her bouncing changed to a desperate grinding as the first mate squeezed her butt, let out a choked sigh and ejaculated into her.

Carlos stood up. He wondered how Sheila would show her appreciation for his cock.

It was dark outside and the weather was unusually cool for September. Carlos ambled the short distance to the waterfront. A boy was collecting his night’s catch from the bottom of his rowboat. Carlos tossed him a coin.

“Take me to my ship, boy,” Carlos said, his words slurred. “‘The Venganza.” Carlos pointed towards the vessel bathed in light from the full moon.

The boy looked at the captain. He likely knew he wasn’t supposed to associate with pirates. He looked at the gold coin in Carlos’s hand. Fishing every night for a month would not bring that much. “Yes, sir,” he agreed.

The boy steadied Carlos as he climbed into the small boat and pushed off. He easily jumped in and began to row. They covered the distance quickly.

“Wait for me and there’’s another coin for the return,” Carlos said, reaching for a rope ladder hanging down the side of the ship.

The boy looked thoughtfully at the drunken man as he grabbed the ladder on his third try. “I’ll wait,” he decided.

Carlos clumsily made it up the ladder. He’d had a lot of experience climbing in this condition and wouldn’t fall. He climbed the railing and clomped across the deck in his heavy boots. Even with the full moon Carlos tripped over a coil of rope. He cursed the rope and the careless sailor who’d left it there.

Sheila would be grateful to see him. He knew it. His manhood swelled with anticipation as he neared his quarters. The captain opened the door and his eyes grew wide. He’d arrived in time to watch the cabin boy fucking his woman. Jaime pumped himself into Sheila and she shrieked with delight.

“Harder,” she screamed. She had her hands on Jaime’s buttocks, pinching and scratching his cheeks until they were red. Sheila pushed him harder, faster.

Carlos strode to the bed, his head now clear, and yanked the lad from Sheila’s ravenous sex. A milky substance shot from him and landed on Sheila’s stomach, chest and chin.

Sheila opened her eyes. Charles had Jaime in a firm grip. “Why’d you do that?” she demanded, and rested the heel of her had on her mons. She was too excited to stop.

“You’re mine,” Carlos said.

“Get out,” he told Jaime. He didn’t blame the poor boy. Sheila would seduce a monk if she had five minutes alone with him.

“I’m a whore,” Sheila said, closing her eyes to concentrate on her own pleasure. “I was when you met me and I will be until I die.”

“You’re my whore,” Carlos growled.

“I don’t belong to anyone.” Her lower body spasmed and she moaned. Languidly she opened her eyes.

Carlos was acutely aware of his own sex pulsing in his pants. His engorged shaft was throbbing for release. She was wet and he could slip in and out of her, but he ignored the urge. Instead, Carlos picked up Sheila’s clothes and threw them to her. “Get dressed,” he ordered. “I’m going to take care of you once and for all.”

Sheila felt a ripple of fear run down her spine. She’d seen the horrors Carlos was capable of but had assumed he’d never hurt her. It was his fault. If he hadn’t left her with the cabin boy nothing would have happened. He should have taken her ashore with him.

Sheila wiped Jaime’s juices from her body with the sheet and quickly dressed in her masculine trousers and loose-fitting shirt.

She’d put on the left boot and was putting on the other when Carlos dragged her across the room. He pulled her through the dark hall, up the stairs and across the deck. Sheila hopped up the steps on one foot, tugging at the right boot until it slipped into place. Carlos pointed to the rope ladder. “Climb down.”

Is he going to throw me to the sharks? Sheila had seen Carlos mercilessly throw Spanish mariners to the sharks for fun.

“Go.” Carlos pushed her. “Into the rowboat.”

Sheila saw the dinghy waiting at the bottom of the ladder.

“Vamos!” Carlos pushed her again.

Sheila carefully climbed down the rope ladder with Carlos right behind her. “Back to shore,” he ordered the young oarsman.

Ashore, Carlos paid the boy a coin and pulled Sheila from the skiff. He strode down the cobblestone street, pulling her in tow.

“Where are we going?” Sheila dared ask.

“I’ve warned to keep your petticoats where they belong, yet I find you time and again with men huffing and puffing between your legs. It won’t happen again.”

Sheila was too frightened to mention that she’d never worn a petticoat. Carlos yanked her down a dark alley. It reeked of rotting animals and human waste. Sheila looked into darkened windows, heard the wails of a young child. A woman screamed. God protect me, she thought.

Carlos pulled Sheila through a low doorway. An ancient black woman with wiry gray hair was seated in the center of the room. Shadows danced along the back wall. Dried plants and flowers hung from the ceiling. Jars of unidentifiable objects lined shelves along one wall. A fire with large chunks of incense burned brightly, giving off a pungent odor.

“I was waiting for you.” the woman said hoarsely. Sheila gasped at the woman’s bluish-white cataract-covered eyes.

“You know why I’ve come?” Carlos asked.

“Your woman is too hot. You want to cool down her sexual appetite.”

“I enjoy her sexual appetite,” Carlos responded. “I just don’t want her to fuck anyone but me.”

“Ah.” The wrinkled grin showed a mouth full of rotten teeth.

The bruja stood and walked around the room, taking pieces of plants, opening jars and extracting unidentifiable animal parts. At least, Sheila thought, Carlos wasn’t going to kill her.

“Is she worth it? This is expensive.” The bruja picked up a purple stone the size of a walnut.

Carlos nodded. “How much?”

“Fifty livre.”

“If you can guarantee she’ll be mine I consider it money well spent.”

The witch sat back down in front of the fire. She put everything in one hand and began mumbling to herself. Her voice increased in volume as she chanted. She threw the gem in the fire of burning incense. It began to glow a darker purple. The chanting turned into howling. The woman put a hand on Sheila and threw herbs into the fire on top of the amethyst.

Sheila screamed and fell to the ground. Silence filled the small room.

“What did you do?” Carlos asked.

“She’s all yours,” the old woman said and reached into the fire for the stone. “She was hot-blooded.” She handed the amethyst to Carlos. “Her desire is in this stone. Whenever you need to fulfill your carnal desires, let her hold this. As long as she touches it, her desire will run hot. If she isn’t touching it, she’ll be as chaste as a nun.”

Carlos counted coins into the old woman’s hand. “Don’t let any other woman touch this stone,” the bruja warned. It won’t affect men, but if a woman holds this stone she’ll have her desire combined with that of your puta.”

Carlos stood up and pocketed the amethyst. Sheila was still unconscious on the floor. Carlos slung her over his shoulder and silently left.