Mark of the Damned | 18+

By MyrandaRae

15.8K 935 51

In this erotic shifter - Niamh is on the run, leaving her family and everything she's ever known behind in se... More

Come Away to the Water
Dead Man's Hand
Byegone
Surefire
Sparrow for a Heart
Atlas Hands
Your Bones
Wolves Without Teeth
Deep End
Salt and the Sea
Warm With You
Kiss Me
1, 2
Coy Boy
Bravado
Forest Floor
Song to the Siren
Wildfire
Fade Into A Dream
Morning
The Power of Goodbye
I Follow Rivers
Wings

Peaches

327 21 1
By MyrandaRae

Song - Peaches by In The Valley Below

"Go straight to your quarters," he whispers before kissing my temple.

The tension on board is heavy. There is about to be a fight. The captain is pacing the deck, waiting as we climb out of the rowboat.

"Go," he pats me, sending me away from the visible rage surrounding Captain Cormac. His deep scowl is trained on me, a terrifying flicker in his eyes as he watches my steps.

Finding myself in the same position, again, I tuck into the corner and wait. It only takes a minute for the screaming to start. They aren't in the cabin this time, so I can't hear anything but the sound of their shouting voices and several loud thuds.

I have every confidence in Cooper. My mind wonders back to how fearful I was the last time I sat in this exact position.

Today, I'm not.

He won't let anything happen to me.

Eventually, the fighting stops, and the anchor is drawn up. Peeking out of my small window, I watch the sky. I feel so calm. Outside, there is nothing but clear blue. Inside, I am here, on The Sirens Call with Cooper.

A quiet tap on my door and the shuffling of feet outside make me smile. I already know what is about to be asked.

Potter and Mick are outside, standing in the galley, when I crack the door open.

"Dinner?" Mick shrugs nervously with a sheepish grin.

Nodding, I come out into the messy cabin. None of the supplies have been put away yet, and there are crates everywhere.

"We can help you," Potter quickly starts grabbing crates and loading them onto the shelves.

"You must be starving if you're willing to help in the galley!"

The three of us make quick work of storing everything so that I can begin lunch. I know potatoes fried in lard are Cooper's favorite, so everyone gets those.

When the first group is called to eat, I wait in nervous anticipation for Cooper, but he doesn't come. Captain Cormac does, and the sight of him makes me gasp. A bruised eye and a busted lip are the least of my concerns. The raw, bloody cuts on his knuckles are all I care about. What was on the receiving end of those punches? Hopefully not Cooper's face.

He sits in the corner, leaning against my door. I'm certain he hasn't blinked the entire time. He just sits, watching me, angrily stabbing at each bite before shoving it in his mouth.

Shifting uncomfortably on my feet, I wait for him to finish and leave.

When his plate is empty, I hold my breath, but he doesn't stand. Several members of the crew are also finished, but they're still sitting, waiting.

"Second," Mick yells suddenly, calling down the next group. Only when they loudly stumble through the door does the first group stand. My heart flutters in my chest. They stayed for me. To keep me safe.

When Cooper walks into the cabin, the tin dish I was cleaning falls loudly to the ground.

His eyes are dark and bruised, with a cut on his brow.

Rushing forward, I grab him, studying his injuries. Captain Cormac scoffs behind us, pulling himself up and storming away.

"I'm fine, Niamh," Cooper grumbles.

"Let her fawn over you, lad." Big Jones laughs. "The touch of a woman will cure all that ails you."

He lets me fuss over his injuries and press kisses to them for a moment before shooing me away.

"When the sun goes down, stay in the room," he whispers. "I'm on the first watch. Mick is going to sleep against the door, so don't open it."

I almost protest, but I stop myself. It's probably best that someone is nearby.

Finishing my chores quickly, I take a small pot of warm water into the room to wash. My cheeks heat even though I'm alone. I try to convince myself that I'm washing just for the sake of cleanliness, but I know better. I have hopes for tonight. Hopes that he will touch me.

Lying on the floor in the dark, his hands creep into my mind. Even in my dreams, he is all I think of. My body buzzes, desperate, and achy for the way he makes me feel. I'm flooded with warmth all over me, surrounding me. His fingers slip down between my legs, rubbing.

Pressing back, I feel him pushing himself against me. Moaning, I flex my hips, creating more friction against his fingers.

My eyes flutter open, and I realize that I was asleep but I wasn't dreaming. He's on the floor behind me, his hard body pressing against mine. His arm is wrapped around my waist, and his hand is inside my pants.

Gasping, I press back against him just as he circles his fingers again.

"You were moaning in your sleep," he groans, dipping lower to push one of his fingers inside of me. "What were you dreaming about, Niamh? You're so wet."

"You. I was dreaming about you!" I'm already panting and desperate.

"What was I doing?"

"You were touching me like this." I choke as he starts to bend his fingers. Everything is building, heat and pressure.

He groans and moves his fingers faster, and my brain seems to freeze. Everything is happening all at once, I can't move, breathe, or think beyond the intense feelings that buzz beneath my skin.

Each graze of his thumb and curling motion of his finger pushes me up higher, out of my body.

"That's it." His deep, smooth voice forces me over the edge so unexpectedly and with such force that I cry, loudly, into the air.

When he pulls his hand out of my pants, I turn, rolling to face him in time to watch him suck his fingers into his mouth. A quiet hum, a satisfied sound, rumbles in his chest and makes me blush.

This is the second time he's tasted me.

Sitting up, I look at the hard bulge in his pants.

His lips tug into a smile. "What are you thinking about?"

"Do women please men with their mouths?" I blurt out.

His head falls back onto the ground, and he groans, gripping himself in his hand. "Yes."

"Can you teach me how to do it?" I sit nervously on my knees between his legs. I have no idea what I'm doing, but I want to try.

"Fuck, Niamh." He pants and pinches his eyes closed.

With trembling hands, I reach out and untie the front of his pants. Tugging on the front, he slips out, hanging above his stomach.

Reaching out, I take him gently into my hand. The muscles in his stomach clench, and his soft panting breaths make his chest rise and fall rapidly.

"You can lick it, or suck it into your mouth." The strain in his voice excites me as I lean down.

Pausing for a moment to calm my nerves, I just move my hand, watching his muscles tense. It's dark but the lantern gives just enough light to make out that his eyes are open, watching me.

Bending further, I nervously lick it from the bottom to the top. He hisses from the corner of his mouth, and his thighs tense beside me.

He seemed to like that, so I do it again, but this time, when I get to the top, I put my mouth around him.

"Be careful with your teeth." He groans as he fists a handful of my hair.

Holding him with a firm grip, I slide him in and out of my mouth, going slightly farther down each time. I won't be able to fit it all in, but I'll go as far as I can.

My nervousness starts to disappear as his hips flex and he moans and grunts. Staring into his eyes while I have him in my mouth makes me feel powerful. I may not know exactly what I'm doing, but he likes it. I am able to make him feel good.

The wet, sticky sound my mouth is making reminds me of the sounds our bodies made together, and it makes me throb between my legs. When I moan, his body jerks, and he lets out a low growl.

"Fuck," he moves the strands of hair that have fallen in my face. "Keep going."

A slightly salty taste starts to spread over my tongue, as he squirms against the ground.

"Put your hand down between your legs, Niamh." He begs. "Touch yourself."

Slipping my hand under my pants, I rub my fingers against the slick, wet, aching place that I'm longing for him to fill.

"Little circles, do it just how I do." He chokes out his encouragement. Each word is forced out between groans and panting breaths.

When I moan again, he slams his hand into the ground as he roars, likely waking the whole ship. He jerks in my mouth, spurts of his warm, salty release filling my mouth until I can't hold anymore and it starts to drip out.

As soon as I sit back on my heels, he grabs me, pulling my body up as he stands. His fingers begin to work my pants down my legs.

"My turn." He growls and drops to his knees, lifting my thighs up to rest on his shoulders. "I'm going to drown in your pretty little cunt tonight."

I would have blushed if I had any decency left in me, but his filthy promises only excite me now.

When he dips and his lips suction around me, I drop my head back against the wall and bite into my arm to silence the loud cries that want to escape.

It's going to be a long night.

⚡️Mark of the Damned is COMPLETE on my Patreon plus unlock access my entire library of over 30 adult romance titles.

Visit patreon.com/MyrandaRae 🧡

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