I slammed the hilt of my sword against the door, forcing it open. The shouting and cheering from behind me poured into the room. I kicked it closed and jammed the cutlass against it. I wasn’t going to share this booty with those knaves.

She crouched in the corner of the cabin, her arms across her chest, one hand clutching the lace at her décolletage. Beneath the blue gown, her knees drew up protectively.

“Ye think ye could hide from Black Jack?”

“Don’t touch me!” she hissed. “My father will have you hung!”

“Many have tried, wench. All have failed. The sea protects her own!”

“Tell that to my poor, drowned crew!”

“A harsh mistress, she takes what she wants. As do I.”

She became more nervous as I drew closer.

“I have jewels. My father will pay my ransom,” she cried. “And more!”

Those last words were almost thrown my way as she suddenly darted forward on her knees, trying to scramble past me. Beneath her silks, I could see her buttocks’ flexing enticingly. I smiled.

“More is what I had in mind, pretty doxy,” I chuckled harshly.

My left hand flashed down and took hold of the gown at her neck, dragging her up onto her knees to face me – or at least part of me – a very interested part. I had worked long and hard for this conquest, searching for her. Now, the moment had arrived.

Her hair, as black as raven’s wings, was piled up on her head like a skein of unwound silk, long golden pins holding it in place. Her eyes were like the sea, ever-changing from a calm sunny blue to a deep warning grey. Her lips were the colour of blood splashed across the decks, and her cheeks the pale wine of the Portugee. Little wonder I had chased her across the world. She was a treasure, and I was going to enjoy every last golden pearl.

I shifted my hold to her hair, feeling the soft strands float beneath my palms, and she cried out as I held her still. I quickly unbuttoned my breeches and let my stiff pego charge forth to let her know her imminent future.

She stared at it. “No! You wouldn’t!”

A harsh chuckle was the only reply as I drew her closer.

“That be the least that you face, my pretty little parrot. Now open that beak!”

“Oh, eek,” she shrieked, her cry cut short as my lance darted past her shielding hands and found its target.

It was as if I had penetrated melted mother-of-pearl, her mouth hot and wet, her lips plump and tight around me.

“Argh, that be right royal treatment,” I groaned, rocking my hips so as not to choke the wench. I had plans for her.

She slapped at my thighs, the tattered leather breeches taking all sting from her blows, while I used her grievously. I felt my plums tighten and dragged myself away.

“Up!”

She stood, only to find herself pushed down over the bunk. I flipped up her silken skirts and admired the view as she mewed and bemoaned her sorry fate. Long legs in silken hose, and above them...

“Damn this foppish new fashion for wearing these!” I spat and tore her knickers away. Only whores wore them in my youth; all good women foreswearing them. Now revealed, her cunny was like an overripe fig from the Indies, split down one side from all the burgeoning juices within. My galleon sallied forth and invaded her port, docking deep within.

“No!” she cried, but to no avail, as I plumbed her depths without fear. It had been too long.

“God, it’s been too long,” I said.

“We made love on Thursday, just two days ago.” The duvet beneath her muffled her voice.

“That’s too long.”

“Stop grumb ... oh, yes, like that! Yes!”

“I’m almost there, but you’re too hot, too wet, too good. Oh, god, I love you!”

I rested lightly on her back, enjoying feeling the little echoing spasms of her orgasm through me.

I rolled off so she could turn to face me, kissing me and holding me so tightly I could hardly breathe.

“I love you too, you daft bugger. So much! But you’re going to have to fix that door.”

“Again?”

“We’ll get a stronger one for our next fancy dress party.”

“God, no. My shoulder’s still sore.”

Those unfathomable eyes transfixed me. “How sore?”

“Not that sore. Avast there, wench!”