The Devil and the Deep - By Amy Andrews Page 0,61
up her chemise with his other hand, exposing a creamy breast and rosy nipple that puckered quickly beneath the stroke of his fingers.
‘I know you have this tiny strawberry birthmark just here,’ he said, satisfied to hear her whimper as he withdrew his finger, shifting it slightly to the left to the crease where her inner thigh met the very centre of her. ‘I know you like it when I lick you there,’ he murmured, lowering his head and putting his tongue to where his finger had been, to the mark that had fascinated him right from the beginning.
‘Vasco...’ Mary cried, arching her back as his finger re-entered her and his tongue swiped in long, lazy, knowing strokes.
He smiled as he pulled away, sitting back on his haunches, his finger still stroking deep inside her. ‘I know me tying you up excites you even though I know you’re hearing your uncle’s voice telling you you’re going to hell.’
Mary also hated how he seemed to be able to read her mind. ‘Well, I’ll be seeing you there first, Captain Ramirez,’ she said haughtily.
Vasco threw back his head and laughed. When he stopped his eyes glittered down at her and he started to stroke her in earnest. ‘Ah, but what a way to go, Lady Mary,’ he taunted as he relentlessly increased the pressure.
Mary especially hated how he could bring her to her peak so effortlessly. ‘Vasco,’ she whimpered and moved against him, desperate for the rush.
He quirked an eyebrow, easing back a little, refusing to give her what she craved. If she wanted to use him then she could damn well say the words. ‘Yes, Mary, what do you want?’
Mary rocked her pelvis against his hand as the maddening friction plateaued, divinity frustratingly out of reach. ‘Please, Vasco,’ she gasped.
Vasco was harder than he’d ever been in his life, watching her lying before him half exposed, fully abandoned, head tossing from side to side, her body begging for that which she would not put into words.
He shook his head. ‘Please what, Mary?’ he demanded, quickening the pace for a few tantalising seconds, then backing off.
Mary bit into her lip hard, lifting her hips off the bed. ‘Vasco!’
‘Say it,’ he growled.
She opened her eyes and glared at him. ‘Damn it, Vasco.’ But she knew in that second she’d have given him the world if he’d asked for it. ‘I like it when you do this to me,’ she said. ‘I want you to do it to me. I just plain want you. Now please...please...’ her wrists yanked at the bonds ‘...I beg of you...’
Vasco grinned. ‘Of course, Lady Mary, why didn’t you just say so?’
But the rebuke that came to Mary’s lips was lost as Vasco drove her over the edge in ten seconds. When she was capable of opening her eyes a little while later it was to his smug triumphant smile.
‘Okay, Vasco,’ she said, her breathing still not quite normal. ‘Untie me now.’
Vasco shook his head and the gleam in his eye was positively wicked as he unlaced his breeches.
‘I’m just getting started.’
THE next week flew by. Between long nights—and sometimes long days—below deck they made it to Micronesia, sailing into Weno in Chuuk State where they restocked and sorted out the official paperwork.
Chuuk, home to a giant lagoon, the final resting place for over a hundred ships, planes and submarines that had perished during fierce World War Two battles, was a magnate for wreck divers worldwide. Time and warm tropical waters had seen the wrecks bloom into breathtaking coral gardens and artificial reefs sporting a kaleidoscope of colours.
But they headed beyond that to the lesser known outer reefs fringing the deeper waters of the Pacific where Nathan had been convinced Inigo’s boat had gone down in bad weather. The islands of Micronesia had once been part of the Spanish East Indies and, Nathan believed, a rich hunting ground for a pirate who wasn’t picky or patriotic when it came to loot.
The fact that a veritable maze of two thousand plus, mainly uninhabited islands lay at his disposal, providing the perfect cover to lay low in between raids, had no doubt also been a plus for Inigo Alvarez.
The weather stayed calm and visibility was excellent as, for the first six days, Rick and Stella island-hopped, diving the area Nathan had deduced from his lifetime of research was the most likely resting pace for The Mermaid. It was about a hundred nautical miles square so they divided it up into a