Jane Davey’s Locket by Eve Langlais Page 0,33

arched.

A big and heavy hand pinned me back down, leaving me at the mercy of Oz’s tongue. He swiped at my sex, lapped at my honey, spread my lips and groaned against my flesh with true enjoyment.

He wasn’t the only one enjoying it.

I was beyond coherent speech. Awash in pleasure. My body coiled tight as a spring ready to pop.

His tongue flicked at my clit, and I yelled, then gasped as he slid two fingers into me. Long, hard digits, something for me to clench as he continued to caress my swollen button. Flick. Suck. Nudge. And then he thrust, in and out, increasing the intensity, making me clench until my orgasm tore through me. Still, he kept licking and thrusting with those fingers, drawing out my climax, rolling me into the start of another.

“Fuck me,” I sobbed. I wanted him inside, filling me, claiming me.

“With pleasure,” he murmured in a husky voice, and I was more than ready. He moved on top of me, the tip of him probing, and I dug my fingers into his flesh, urging him.

Only something chose that moment to rock the ship.

We paused, my flesh throbbing, his cock pressing. The timing really bad.

“Think it’s the sea monster?” I asked as the ship bobbed again.

“Better not be. Fucking cock-blocker if it is.”

Oz’s frustration brought a smile.

The intercom speaker inside the room blared to life. “Sorry to interrupt, passengers. Please brace yourselves. We’ve entered DJ’s Locker, and there seems to be some unexpected turbulence.”

“Uh-oh.” I shoved at Oz, who rolled off me with a puzzled frown.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to go. Now.” I hopped from his bed and snared a loose shirt—having left all my clothes on the top deck when I stripped the night before.

“Where are you going?” Oz growled. His eyes glowed gold, and his cock jutted forth, still aching for its turn.

A turn he wouldn’t get as the ship rocked again.

“Trust me when I say it’s best if I go.” Because the thing rocking the ship and cursing with every crashing wave?

Daddy.

We’d arrive at the site of his grave, the seat of his power, and judging by the rough seas? He wasn’t happy that someone was fooling around with his little girl.

13

Oz: Why am I suddenly hearing the theme song to Jaws?

Jane took off, practically sprinting out my suite door, wearing my shirt and nothing else. But that wasn’t the reason I roared—the first time because I really liked that shirt. The second louder because she’d left me blue-balled and frustrated. Even now, lying on my back, my cock jutted.

Whined.

Ached.

Yet it wasn’t in me to beg. Although the temptation was strong with the flavor of Jane still on my tongue.

She’d tasted so fucking sweet. Sweeter than I expected. I craved more. Of her. Her honey. Her skin. I could still feel the tremors as she came for me on my fingers and against my mouth.

I wanted more. The need hurt almost as much as my pride. Because she’d run out of here as if she’d seen a monster. Surely not…

I glanced down at my erection. Did she fear it? Big, but not that big. It had to be something else.

“Fuck.”

“You’d better not be planning to fuck my Jane.”

The sudden voice, deep and gravelly, didn’t belong in my room. It sent me diving from the bed, landing in a crouch, my lip pulled back in a snarl. A figure, leaving a puddle of water on the floor, presented itself at my balcony door but didn’t cross the threshold. He wore an old-style waistcoat with large, brass buttons, a hat that drooped, the plume on it a soggy mess. His dark beard dripped, and his eyes flashed, a thunderstorm brewing in the glare.

“Who are you?” I snapped. Jane had claimed that she didn’t have a boyfriend. Yet who else would dare call her “my Jane?” Was this the next holder of the locket?

“I am Theodore Davey, the very angry father of the woman you just tried to defile.” The man held himself straight, and despite his soaked demeanor, he oozed menace.

“Father?” I just about groaned with my shitty luck.

“Did you think me dead just because my ship sank and I drowned with all my crew?” The man began to pace on the balcony outside, and with each step of squelching boots, the boat rocked. “I didn’t have a choice. The curse finally caught me, and now I must take my turn ruling Davey Jones’ Locker.”

“The graveyard of sunken ships?” I didn’t know much ocean lore, but