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Silk	By : JacksMermaid Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > Het - Male/Female > Jack/Elizabeth Views: 6954 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Silk � Chapter Three

She whined in her throat and he dragged her up out of the chair, their mouths still fused. This time he didn't bother with ripping, he brought the knife out of his pocket and slit her shirt from throat to waist, tearing it open. She was clutching at his back, as if trying to tear his own fabric with her short nails. He left her lips, trailing his tongue down her neck, and then softly bit where the skin flowed into the hollow of her shoulder. Her drawn-out moan made him shudder, fighting not to batten his teeth down harder into her flesh. "Is this what you wanted?" he hissed up to her, hearing her gasping cries, "Will never did this, did he? He never touched you like I do..." He demonstrated by stroking her breasts, then realized that damn stupid binding was in the way. He reached up with the knife, but she stopped his hand. "Wait," she gasped.

He was about to get angry again, but then saw that she was shrugging out of her ruined shirt, reaching back to unwind the fabric that bound her. And though it cost him to retain that control, he let her undo it, winding around and around. He moved backward and sat on the table, watching her with eyes that glittered, waiting to see what she revealed beneath. Don't want to move or speak, he thought, nothing that could make her stop.

She couldn't think, could barely breathe, she just wanted this damn fabric off of her, wanted to bare everything to him. She was through pretending modesty, finished with hiding herself from him. He knew everything anyway, could read her like his compass. And then the last of the fabric was slipping away, slithering to the floor in a heap and she stood there in nothing but her breeches and boots. I don't even have the decency to be shy about it, she marvelled, I simply don't care anymore. But she shivered when she saw how his eyes darkened, looking at her.

"Not so cowardly after all," he said softly, trying not to yell in triumph. Amazing. She didn't blush, she didn't try to hide, she simply paled a little under his gaze and lowered her eyes. He felt the dry click in his throat as he tried to swallow. She was so bloody, sodding beautiful. Never in his life had he seen another woman like her, never been around anything so fine in all his years. He slowly slid off the table and moved toward her.

"I'm not a... what you called me." she whispered, eyes still lowered, still shivering.

"No. You're not. Nor a coward, or anything else nasty I've said." He stopped just in front of her. "Are you positive you know what you're doing, or do you want to fight some more?" He traced one finger down her throat, "Are you certain this is what you want?"

"Curiosity, remember?" she answered, shivering, "You told me that one day I'd want to see what it was like..."

"Ah," he smiled faintly, "you remember that, do you? And so you're curious... as to what I'm going to do next?" He reached out again and she tensed for a moment, but then slowly relaxed.

She raised her eyes briefly to his. "Show me, Jack. I have to know. Even if it's only once."

He fought to keep his voice from shaking, "We'll see how you feel afterwards," he told her, eyes deadly serious. He had to fight from simply grabbing her and throwing her on the table. He reached out a hand to her face and she closed her eyes, tilting her head back. Slowly, slowly, he moved his hand down along her neck, briefly tracing the hollow of her throat, fingertips sliding downward between her breasts, down her belly. She gasped and shuddered, eyes still closed. He brought his hand back up, flat-palmed, and curved up underneath a breast, cupping it. "Open your eyes," he rasped, and she slowly lifted her lashes. Her mouth was parted slightly, her eyes drowsy with desire and he knew that this time there was no going back.

The shock of it, being touched that way by anyone, let alone a man. She had never been ill as a child, so no doctor had ever handled her. She'd never allowed the few boys she'd kissed to go any farther, so she'd never been groped. Will had never touched her anyplace the least improper. So this new sensation, this touch and the fire it ignited made her want to swoon. And it was Jack touching her, Jack who was the first man to see her this way, who would be the first man to have her this way. She looked into his eyes, saw the darkness still there and couldn't help but be slightly afraid.

As if reading her thoughts, she heard him say, "Do you trust me?"

Elizabeth tensed slightly. "I..." Did she really? He wouldn't hurt her, but...

"I'm not planning on stopping if we start, Elizabeth." He raised her chin, made her look into his eyes, "If you want to stop this, say so now. If you're still planning on marrying William, definitely say so now."

She swallowed, and stepped closer to him, "I'm not marrying anyone. And I don't want you to stop."

He let out a quiet sound, a sigh that might have been "mmmm..." or could have been "amen..." she wasn't sure. She looked up at him and he took a step back, slowly sliding out of his shirt and dropping it on the floor. She closed her eyes again, unable to watch, and heard the whisper of fabric moving. "Open your eyes," he said again, and she hesitated. "Elizabeth," he growled, and the voice was a warning, "You are going to open your eyes and see what you're getting into." She obeyed and opened her eyes� to see him fully naked before her. She couldn't help the gasp that came out. He was so beautiful. It was odd, she'd never really used that word to speak of a man before. Will had been so handsome, so sweet, but Jack was savagely beautiful, all brown skin and scars, long limbs and whipcord muscle. "Look carefully," he drawled, "take your time." So she did. From his dark eyes, down the lean torso, down to... oh. So that's what it looked like. She swallowed and flicked her eyes back up to his face. He was breathing faster. So am I, she thought.

When she'd looked at him, when she'd raked him with her eyes from top to bottom, he'd thought he was going to take her on the spot, there on the table. He'd never had a woman look at him that way. Well, not a virgin, looking for the first time. The naked curiosity on her face mixed with the burgeoning desire was a heady feeling. "Still willing?" he asked her. She couldn't answer, could only nod her head slightly. "Take off your breeches," he said, voice beginning to go ragged on the edges. Had he ever thought that she looked better in women's clothing? Stupid. Her boy clothes were ridiculously seductive, and he wanted to watch her take them off.

She took a deep breath and began to fumble with the buttons, finding that her fingers had suddenly gone numb. She glanced up at him and saw an amused look on his face and that only made her more clumsy. "C'mere," he told her, and she slowly came closer to him. His hand reached down to her crotch and she held her breath. Slowly � for effect, not from clumsiness � he plucked at the buttons, looking into her eyes the entire time. Slowly, he reached out his hand to her, ghosted it over the curls there. She jumped, gasped, feeling her entire body become hot. She had, of course, explored her own body on occasion, had rubbed in certain places and had felt the strange and almost frightening desires it had caused. The thought of having him touch her there made her feel faint.

He slid the breeches down until they hit the tops of her boots, and then he chuckled to himself, "Forgot about them." He pushed her backward slightly, took ahold of her waist and sat her on the table. He realized he was quickly losing patience. He tugged off one boot, then the other, and then slowly peeled the breeches off her legs. He made himself wait a moment before looking at her completely, and then brought her forward to stand. And took a long look. She was no longer looking away or casting her eyes down, she was looking him full in the face, her eyes blazing. She's woken up, he thought dimly. He looked her up and down, knowing he was hard as stone, knowing she saw it. "So tell me," he murmured, "what were you doing to poor William?"

"I was... I..." she stammered, feeling herself blush. Not now, don't be stupid, she thought, not now when you're already naked before him. "I was touching him."

"Really?" he breathed, stepping closer, using his foot to gently kick her legs open more, noting her soft moan. "How?"

"I... his..." she couldn't say it, didn't know how to.

He took her hand and steeled himself, sternly repeating to himself yet again that he would not just take her then and there. He placed her hand on himself. "Here? You were touching him here?" He muffled a groan as her fingers stroked slightly.

"Yes," she whispered, breath catching on the word.

"Now where ever did you get that idea," he breathed, "a good girl like you?" Oh God, she was exploring.

She felt it in her hand, that hotness and hardness again. Not sure if it's longer than Will's, she considered, but definitely thicker. "I didn't think. I just did it." She wondered if he'd react the same as Will, and she delicately ran her fingers down the shaft, gently squeezed. He bucked slightly, and she smiled to herself. Oh, yes.

It's been a long time, he told himself, and she's the woman of your dreams, but keep control. "Ever think that someone could return the favor?"

"I don't understand," she whispered, lying. She'd hoped for nothing less from Will and had been denied. She didn't think Jack would disappoint. He leaned close, her fingers still wrapped around him, and brushed his hand over her sex. She gasped, and then whimpered when his fingers twisted into the curls, one long finger pushing deeper until he'd run his finger over that small space that always made her writhe so when she touched it in the bath.

"Like this," he said, voice rough. God. She was soaked. "Remember what you said down in the hold, about being filthy and..."

"W-wet," she gasped, as his finger slid slowly up and down, as if it were greased. "Jack..."

Without thinking, her fingers had increased the pressure on him, stroking him a little faster, and he pushed against her hand. She was whimpering louder, her hips starting to thrust against his fingers, "What is it," she whispered, "Jack, what is it...?"

No good. Have to stop now. He had plans for her, and this was too soon. He pulled his fingers away and he smothered a grin when she moaned. He gently took her hand away from him and stepped back. "Come with me," he told her, and turned toward the bed. "And bring the rum," he said, over his shoulder.

She stood there panting, trying to regain her composure. She watched him walk away, saw the scarred back, the long legs, the tightness of his... men really are beautiful, she thought, or at least mine is. She stopped, shocked at the last thought. "The bottle, if you please," he called, and she reached for it and softly padded over to the bed. He was standing beside it, legs spread slightly and that hardness of him stood straight up, fascinating her. "Put it down," he gestured to the floor, "and come here."

She set down the bottle and stood at the edge of the bed, biting her lip and wondering what to do next. He seemed to be pondering the same question, and then he slowly began to grin that feral smile of his. "Lie down," he told her, "we're going to explore."

She gulped and lay back on the bed, and he sat beside her, rum bottle in hand. "Firstly," he murmured, "a little tonic to steady the nerves of patient and doctor." He took a long swallow and then slowly brought it to her lips, tipping the liquid into her mouth. She coughed a little, and sputtered, unused to drinking at such an angle. He grinned and put the bottle down. "Waste not, want not," and then he was leaning over her, tongue lapping up the spilled rum on her neck. She gasped and arched, felt his mouth go lower, lower, until he encircled a nipple, tongue swirling in circles. She let out a low moan and raised her hand to his head, trying to touch his hair. He sat up, catching at her hand, "Ah, ah. You lie still."

Oh. So he was going to torture her a little. She took a deep breath and did as he commanded. "Jack, what should I do?"

Oh, that brought up so many possibilities. Where to begin? "We'll have to explore and find out," he said, giving her that slow honey smile. Slowly he trailed his fingers down her breasts, rolling a nipple between his fingers, making her arch again. She gasped and he grinned appreciatively. When he slowly bent his head to suck at it, her long shuddering cry was music to his ears. "Ever had anyone do that?" he asked, lifting his head.

"Of course not!" A flash of her old indignance.

"Of course, of course. I was just wondering if dear William ever..."

"Would you please," she asked through gritted teeth, "stop bringing up Will? Is he here with us now?"

"Would you like him to be?" came Jack's question, and her breath caught. That was altogether wrong, completely naughty. "Jack..." she whispered.

"Alright, I'll take that as a no." His fingers began to slide down her belly, inching ever closer to the center of her desire, and her breath came faster and more ragged. "So let's see what happens when I do this..." He reached down, gently parting her legs farther, and then reached into her wet curls.

When he rubbed her, her moan was full-throated, pleading, "Jack..." She couldn't bear it.

"You said you were curious, that you wanted to know what it was like," his own breath was coming ragged now, "d'you want me to explain everything or do you just want to feel it?"

"I hardly think you need to explain it all," she gasped, "just tell me what to do."

He pulled away, steadied himself. "Why don't you see for yourself?"

She froze, "What?"

He took her hand and placed it on her sex, "Go ahead, try it." And then he waited to see what she'd do.

She swallowed, feeling the wetness. She'd never felt that much before. "I... I already have," she admitted, lowering her eyes.

She heard him chuckle, "Should have known. Knowing what a wanton, curious girl you are." He leaned back over her and replaced her fingers with his own, "And how far did you go, Lizzie?"

"What?" she gasped as he began to rub her again, this time more deeply, with harder strokes.

"Did you ever complete it?" His mouth was utterly dry from watching the emotions play over her face, the way her eyes clenched shut, the way she bit at her lips.

"I... I don't know what you mean... oh..." She was rocking her hips against his hand, rubbing faster and harder now. Something was coming, something was building... and then he stopped and she almost wept, "Jack..." He was sliding down the bed, what was he doing?

He contemplated for a moment, wondering whether she was ready for this, and then knew she was when she gasped his name. "I'm going to try something else," he told her, softly, and bent to kiss at her thighs, running his tongue up the inside. "Furthering your education, as it were."

She couldn't speak, could barely breathe. His mouth was so hot, his beard and hair were tickling her legs. Then she felt his fingers reaching up, pulling her open and she moaned. When she felt the tip of his tongue lap at her, at that spot that was so sensitive, she cried out so loudly that Jack jerked his head up to look at her, to make sure she was alright. He noted she most certainly was. "D'you want me to stop?" he asked, slyly.

"Don't..." she gasped.

"Don't stop?"

"Jack..."

"Do you want me to continue?" he asked, stroking her around the outside of her, touching everything but that one spot.

"Yes," she told him, her voice pleading.

"Yes, what, Elizabeth?" he was growling now, toying with her and enjoying every moment. He wanted her to beg... just a little... it was only part of what he had planned for her.

"Please, Jack... don't stop..." she was almost weeping now, tossing her head, and he lowered his mouth back down to her.

She wasn't even sure what it was she was asking for, what would happen next, but she had to know. She could feel the tears seeping out from under her eyelids, could hear her own gasping cries as he licked at her, now flicking his tongue lightly, now lapping her with hard thrusts. When he gently sucked it in, ever so gently raked his teeth over it, she bucked so hard that her hips lifted off the bed, and she more felt than heard his chuckle. And still he kept on, kept doing things with that wicked, sinful mouth of his, teasing, taunting, drawing it out.

She was truly weeping now, literally crying and moaning as he went back to the light flicks of his tongue, teasing her by pausing every few seconds. Now she was ready for more. He gently, slowly brought his fingers up and pushed one inside her, curling it around to stroke towards him from the inside. Her cries instantly became louder and he half-heartedly wondered whether the crew was listening, whether Will would hear. And he fiercely told himself he didn't give a damn, as he gently inserted a second finger.

His fingers were inside her, stroking her, and she thought she just might die. The pleasure was still hanging there, not peaking but building so strongly that she was light-headed. Is this what she and Will had been waiting for? She suddenly and fiercely resented him for denying her this, but then wondered whether it would have been as good. Would he have been as knowledgeable as Jack seemed to be, would it have felt the same with Will when it was so obviously Jack she wanted? Suddenly Jack stopped, pulling away fingers and mouth, and she whimpered. "What's wrong?" she asked.

He grinned up at her, wiping his mouth and chin, "Nothing, darlin', I was just beginning to get a little breathless." She blushed slightly, and he continued, "And besides, I'm just getting started with you." He got up and took a drink of rum and she realized she was having the mad urge to strike him for leaving her so. She was trembling and the tears were still trickling down her cheeks.

He glanced back at her, saw the tears and felt slightly guilty, except he knew he wasn't going to leave her this way. He corked the bottle and set it back down, then sat beside her on the bed. He gently touched her face, tracing the tears, and then tracing her lips.

She could smell herself on his fingers, and she looked up at him. And then slowly, daringly took one of his fingers into her mouth. Tasting herself.

He jerked, moaned a little. Jesus, she was a quick study at erotic play.

"What next?" she asked him, breathlessly, and watched him lay back on the bed beside her.

"You have hands, don't you?" his smile was positively ferocious and she gaped at him.

"What?"

Slowly, she watched him reach down and stroke himself and she helplessly closed her eyes against the image, shuddering. She heard his voice again, "Go ahead. I want to watch you."

"Jack, I can't..." So embarrassed, but wanting him so badly.

"Open your eyes," he told her, in the voice that brooked no argument. She opened them and watched him slowly sliding his hand up and down, stroking himself and licking his lips. When she saw his eyes involuntarily flutter with pleasure, she moaned.

God, this was torture. Looking at her as she watched him, seeing her flush and tremble. He was utterly mad for drawing this out, but he wanted her to be beyond control, beyond hesitation. "Go ahead," he whispered again, preparing himself to be utterly lost.

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AU: Now I know I'm a sadist. I had this entire chapter in 13 pages. Decided to cut it up seperately and make you wait. In other words, I have the next chapter completed and sitting here. But I'm not posting it yet.

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Silk