The Sublime and Spirited Voyage of Original Sin Page 13

  She again heard what could have been a scream, but this time it sounded more clearly like a woman. Suddenly concerned that something had happened to Gayle, she stood and stumbled to the passageway, listening for any sign that might ease her mind.

  Another shriek came, louder this time, but briefer and seemingly closer. She decided that whoever it was, it certainly wasn’t Gayle. She crossed her arms and waited curiously.

  The ship suddenly lurched to the windward side, prompting another shrill cry. Now the source of the caterwauling was unmistakable—Anne, who was stumbling toward her, trying to steady herself with her arms extended sideways to brace her against the passageway walls. An aftward lurch produced another screech as she struggled to stay on her feet.

  “What are you doing?” Celia was nonplussed by this woman’s irrepressible panic.

  Anne leaped and screeched again, obviously startled by Celia in the darkened doorway.

  “Od’s bodkins,” Celia exclaimed. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “We’re all going to die, every bloody one of us!”

  “Calm down, for Christ’s sake. It’s just a little squall. It’ll pass in no time.”

  “Every time we get thrown one direction or another, I know we’re going to roll over. And every time, the bloody sea’s teasing me.”

  “Exactly,” Celia said, trying to use her best let’s-calm-down-the-loony voice. She put her hand on Anne’s back and ushered her into her quarters. “Come in and sit. You’ll feel better if you do.”

  Anne moved slowly into the cabin, taking tiny steps. “It’s so dark in here.”

  “It’s soothing,” Celia lied. “Like having your eyes closed without having to go to all the trouble of actually closing them.”

  When the ship pitched violently, both women hit the aft wall of the cabin. Anne began to wail again, this time ostensibly without end. She only stopped long enough to draw enough breath to start again.

  “Stop it,” Celia shouted, grabbing her by the wrists. “Stop it, I said.” She shook her slightly, hoping to jerk her back to her senses.

  When that rather direct approach failed, Celia did the first thing that crossed her mind. She slapped Anne sharply across the face.

  Her screaming ceased.

  “You bitch,” Anne growled, and struck Celia back as hard as she could.

  Celia couldn’t believe this woman had slapped her, and fury suddenly coursed through her. “Bloody harpy.” She struck Anne again and grabbed her by the forearms.

  They struggled wildly, working against both each other and the motion of the ship as it tossed violently on the waves. Anne screamed again as they struggled, prompting Celia to shout, “Oh, shut the hell up, you tedious shrew.”

  Abruptly, the ship heaved leeward again just as Celia pushed Anne in the same direction, and the two of them lost their balance and flew against the wall, landing hard across the bed. Anne’s head struck a thick wooden beam of the cabin wall, and Celia slammed against her.

  Anne’s eyes were now closed, her face peaceful and her mouth open.

  “Anne?” She placed her hand in front of Anne’s nose and mouth and felt air moving in and out. That was a good sign. She saw and felt no blood, though she did detect a small bump on her temple, which would no doubt be a large, unsightly knot by morning. She sighed in relief.

  “If only I’d done that sooner.” She stood and swung Anne’s legs onto the bed so that her body rested fully across it. “Bitch.”

  “Is everything all right in here?” Gayle stood in the doorway, completely drenched but looking concerned. “I thought I heard screaming.”

  Celia froze for a moment guiltily. “Shh,” she finally whispered, putting her index finger to her lips. “Anne’s asleep.”

  Gayle seemed completely perplexed, since she had clearly heard heated cursing mere seconds earlier. “Asleep?”

  “Aye. We mustn’t wake her. The storm’s got her knackered.” Celia shambled to meet Gayle in the doorway in an obvious and shameful attempt to feign sneaking.

  “And she’s in your bed why?” Gayle asked in hushed tones, gamely playing along with this excruciatingly evident ruse.

  “Fatigue simply took her.” She gestured with her upright hand toppling over to one side like a newly felled tree. “She literally dropped off to sleep.”

  “And you didn’t…help her find sleep?” Gayle asked in disbelief, checking Anne for signs of life.

  “Of course I helped her. I’m a good Christian.” The corners of Celia’s mouth rose ever so slightly.

  Gayle spied the bump on Anne’s head, then turned back to Celia. “And how are you?”

  “Quite well, thank you. How are you?”

  She was charmed by Celia’s completely unexpected and bright response. The woman seemed to have no fear whatsoever. “I’ve certainly been better. You might as well come with me. We wouldn’t want to wake Anne.”

  “No, I imagine she’ll be quite cross when she wakes. She’s not really a morning person, you see,” Celia explained.

  They left, shutting Celia’s door behind them, and struggled to Gayle’s quarters, the ship still being tossed wildly as they entered. The windows on the aft of the ship provided more natural light in this room.

  “Hell’s bells, Gayle. You’re completely soaked. You look a right mess.”

  “You do love to tell me that,” Gayle replied as she rummaged through her trunk for a dry change of clothes. “You may not have noticed, but it’s raining.”

  Celia closed the door behind her and latched it. “Really? I thought I heard something outside. Are we still trying to sail our way out of the storm?”

  “No, we’ve secured the sails and dropped the anchor.”

  “Why?”

  “We’ve little hope of doing anything other than riding it out now. With any luck we traveled fast enough that we’re on the outskirts of the storm, and it’s not bearing down on us.”

  Celia walked slowly toward her. “Are you terribly worried? Surely you’ve faced storms at sea before.”

  “Aye, but this is a particularly nasty one. It’s blowing marlinspikes up on deck. By guess and by God, she’s a hurricane.”

  “Oh.”

  Gayle turned to her in concern, suddenly questioning if she should have been so candid. “Are you worried? Have you been through a hurricane before?”

  “Aye, Florida gets its share. But I’ve never experienced one on a ship in the middle of the ocean.”

  “We’ll be fine. Original Sin has weathered many a storm, mark my words.”

  Celia stepped toward her and scrutinized her. Her wet hair was plastered down her back, and small droplets of rain still clung to her face and fell from her clothes to form shallow puddles beneath her. Celia placed her hand gently on Gayle’s cheek, brushing her cheekbone softly with her thumb.

  Gayle was unable to speak, amazed at this unforeseen show of tenderness.

  “Gayle.” Her hand now slowly traced Gayle’s jawline.

  She stared into Celia’s crystal blue eyes, stunned by what she saw in them. “Aye?”

  “Before I die, I need to touch you.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Pardon?” Gayle was completely astounded that Celia seemed to be making a sexual advance toward her, and that she was taking this rather inopportune time to do so.

  The ship continued to sway as Celia’s hand moved downward to trace the buttons on the front of Gayle’s sopping-wet shirt. “I know I probably sound completely mad,” Celia said, her eye contact sultry and intense. “But I can’t stop thinking about you—what it would feel like to be with you.”

  “You can’t?”

  She shook her head seductively while biting her lower lip. “My desire consumes me,” she added in almost a whisper. “I want you so very badly.”

  Gayle needed no more time to contemplate this situation. She crushed her mouth against Celia’s with an immense hunger and moved her hands smoothly along Celia’s back as their tongues touched and entwined
.

  The ship, thrown windward, propelled them against the door, but they didn’t stop kissing or slow their frenzied exploration of each other.

  Celia grasped Gayle’s sodden shirt with both hands and yanked it open, propelling buttons everywhere. “I’ll sew them all back on later,” she promised hastily before she started kissing Gayle’s exposed neck, all the while still struggling to remove the shirt.

  “Sod ’em,” Gayle blurted, flinging her shirt behind her and pulling Celia to her again with zeal. She began to unbutton Celia’s shirt with her right hand while she moved her left down Celia’s lower back to cup her firm backside. “Christ,” she murmured into Celia’s ear. “You feel so good, love.”

  Celia shook as though chilled and moaned before she continued her ravenous attack on Gayle’s lips with her own.

  Once Gayle had completely unbuttoned Celia’s shirt, she slid her hand around Celia’s waist and up her back, the smooth skin making her throb. With her other hand she made contact with Celia’s right breast and gasped.

  “You’re so beautiful, Celia.” She moved down to unbutton Celia’s breeches. “I need to feel you.”

  “Aye, feel me. Feel my want of you.”

  Before Gayle could do so, a sudden lurching of the ship sent them hurtling leeward, and though they struggled to stay upright they didn’t let go of each other. Gayle pushed Celia so she sat on the bed, then removed Celia’s shoes and breeches. She then took off what remained of her own wet clothes and moved toward her, tenderly leaning Celia against the mattress—their mouths locked and their tongues eagerly exploring.

  She rolled Celia onto her back and began to impatiently kiss her way down Celia’s body.

  “You’re so bloody good at that,” Celia whispered as Gayle interrupted her journey south to lovingly taste Celia’s right breast and gently nibble it. Celia’s back arched and she placed her hand behind Gayle’s head, her fingertips mimicking the movements of Gayle’s mouth.

  Celia’s body was on fire—just as in her dreams, only tenfold. She had never known she was capable of feeling this way, but as much as she loved the sensations, she needed release—a magnificent frustration, of sorts.

  “God, Gayle. Please touch me.”

  Obligingly Gayle did so, without taking her mouth from Celia’s breast, and her fingers slid easily across Celia’s slick sex.

  Celia cried out softly at the first sensation and closed her eyes as Gayle repeated the motion. Everything felt so damn good that she thought she would burst from sheer bliss.

  She ran her hands along Gayle’s naked back, scraping her fingernails inadvertently across her skin. Gayle returned her mouth to Celia’s, and their tongues tangled excitedly while Gayle continued to stroke her.

  Gayle’s nude body over hers inflamed her, and she couldn’t get enough of the taste of her lips. She began to grind against Gayle’s hand, and her legs opened wider.

  “Do you feel it building, dear?” Gayle whispered. Celia could only nod as she closed her eyes, her body surging with need. “I can feel your hunger. You’re aching, aren’t you?”

  Celia answered with a loud moan, so Gayle concentrated on Celia’s clitoris, her mouth moving back down to one of her full breasts. The motion of her tongue on Celia’s nipple mirrored the motion of her fingertips, which Celia liked tremendously.

  “Christ,” Celia called, as something within the depths of her soul began to slowly intensify. “God damn,” she added, her hips grinding erotically. A stirring slowly moved through her, amplifying in exquisite torture. She cried out as it continued to build until her sight and hearing temporarily ceased to function. Then she cried out again as the release finally took her, surging through her veins like lava.

  Gayle repositioned herself and rested her forehead against Celia’s. “All right?”

  Celia was breathing heavily and nodded. “No wonder you like sex so much. It’s bloody brilliant.”

  Gayle laughed, stopping only to kiss Celia. She let her hands roam over her lover’s flushed, luscious skin. “You become quite religious in bed.”

  “What?”

  “You do a lot of conversing with the Lord. Calling out to him, and the like.”

  “Truly?”

  “Aye,” she answered, kissing Celia’s neck seductively. “I’d have preferred to hear my own name on your lips, but I suppose I can’t complain.”

  “Mmm. You’re making me want you all over again.”

  “Well, you’ll not have me again until you’ve…had me, if you catch my meaning.” Gayle moved her hand intimately down the curve of Celia’s waist and lingered there.

  “I don’t want to disappoint you.” Celia kissed her deeply. “I’m afraid I’m completely hopeless. I don’t know how to touch you like that.”

  “There’s nothing hopeless about you. You’re a passionate, sexual woman, Celia. I saw how you arched your back and ground your hips against me.”

  “You say the most extraordinarily perfect things sometimes,” she said as their eyes locked.

  Gayle took Celia’s hand as she rolled onto her back and pulled it gently between her legs. “I want you to feel my need for you, to know how hungry you make me.” Celia gasped at the remarkable wetness there. “Do you feel how ready I am for your touch? How you make me burn? You always have.”

  “Tell me what to do.”

  “I need you, here,” Gayle answered, placing Celia’s hand precisely where she wanted it. “Stroke me, love.”

  Celia complied, and the feel of her lover’s arousal was powerfully provocative. Gayle kept her hand on top of Celia’s, and Celia watched as Gayle’s body began to writhe in pleasure. Remembering how incredible she had felt in the same position, she kissed Gayle’s breast and traced the nipple sensuously with her tongue.

  Gayle moaned and thrust her breast eagerly toward her, clearly wanting Celia to somehow take all of it into her mouth. “My love,” she said, pulling Celia’s hand away.

  “What is it?”

  “I need your mouth on me. Your beautifully skilled mouth.”

  Celia was caught off guard by the request, but the thought of making love to Gayle and potentially bringing her the same type of ecstasy she had just experienced kept her from hesitating. She moved down Gayle’s trembling body and began to kiss her muscular inner thighs.

  “Please, my love. I can’t wait any longer.”

  Celia charitably did as she was asked and began to kiss Gayle’s vulva, noticing how her tongue sent tiny tremors through her body. Slowly, she became more confident as her lover’s hips began to rock against her mouth. Celia loved both her seductive movements and her passionate taste.

  Little by little she began to tease Gayle, purposely moving her tongue from where she could tell Gayle wanted it to be. Then, just as quickly, she would return it to that spot and linger there, making Gayle breathe heavily and moan.

  Gayle’s hand rested lightly on Celia’s head, then she shuddered and cried out. Celia curled her lips in delight at her newfound sexual power. She moved back up the mattress, and when Gayle captured her mouth Celia relished the taste of her lover’s lips.

  “Was that my doing?” she asked playfully, sitting astride Gayle.

  “Every last bit of it.” Her hands trailed reverently down Celia’s throat between her breasts and to her stomach. “Did you enjoy it?”

  “Every last bit of it.”

  “Since the storm hasn’t killed us yet, I’d like to keep making love to you until that happens, if that’s all right.” Gayle ran her hands over Celia’s backside appreciatively.

  Celia leaned close and they kissed. “I’m yours for the taking.”

  *

  Several hours later Gayle and Celia finally realized that the storm was abating. They had relished every moment of each other’s insatiable ardor, and other than take a few brief catnaps, they had done nothing but make love.

  Gayle lay on her side, her body spooning Celia’s as she languidly appreciated the feel of her perfect bottom against h
er stomach. She let her fingers travel to her lover’s right hand and lightly traced the opal ring on Celia’s finger. “This was the best bloody money I ever spent.”

  “You undervalue your natural charisma.” Celia ran her thumb along Gayle’s palm.

  “Something I’ve never before been accused of. I should rise.”

  “But I’m not done with you yet,” Celia growled, turning over to face her.

  “As appealing as that sounds, I don’t know that I’ll be able to accommodate you further without at least several hours’ rest.”

  “Then why are you caressing my bottom?”

  Gayle laughed lustily. “Because it’s bloody magnificent. I can’t seem to leave it alone. I’m drawn to it like a moth to a flame.”

  “I’m happy that it pleases you.”

  “’Tis merely one thing about you that does. There are so very many more.”

  Celia’s blue eyes twinkled. “You needn’t try so hard, you know. You’ve already gotten me into bed.”

  “And I hope I can keep you here,” Gayle said, rising.

  “Not if you’re getting up, you can’t.”

  “But the rain has almost stopped. I need to go take stock of the weather damage.” She pulled on a fresh pair of breeches—the black velvet ones she had purchased in New Providence.

  Celia eyed her appreciatively as she dressed. “And how bad might it be?”

  “Well, if the masts are spent, we’ll have the devil to pay and no hot pitch.”

  “Spent?”

  “Broken off.” She put on a royal blue shirt and began to button it. “If the masts did not withstand the winds, we’ll have no way to unfurl our sails and control our course. We’ll merely drift with the tide until we run aground, our supplies exhausted, and we starve, or we get captured.”

  “Oh.” Celia frowned.

  “Sorry you asked?”

  “Completely.”

  Gayle bent down and kissed her deeply. “You are bloody adorable, you know that?”

  “And I have a magnificent bottom.”