Wheeling Gull Isle the beatings will continue until morale improves

Her breath touched the one part of himself he could not do without, and he would not be able to hide from her eyes the bob of his throat as he swallowed, though his own unwavering eyes were steel as he returned her stare. For a moment, he thought he was done, that his grand scheme would be his grand folly, but then her mood switched, and she rubbed herself against the length of him, accepting his offer.

He uttered a soft arr as his lips became the devil's own, twisted up in his relief, his excitement, and his triumph. He had to part with more than he had wished - his dignity, and his solo, patriarchal reign - but in the end, after baring himself to her and risking mutilation and death, he had gotten what he had wanted. Mostly. Enough that he was satisfied, and felt smug that he had been so clever as to allow her to rage upon him in order that she may be gentled once she had.

But perhaps his inward celebrations were premature. She had demanded to be given back what he had stolen, and his arrogance was quick to think she wanted the sort of sex she had proferred after the ship's christening. Now, however, an afterthought had made him pause, and he fixed her with a scrutinizing and daring look. "I have given ye me dignity, and power over me that no one else has had, and now I have given ye position, to stand beside me an equal. Do not be greedy," he warned, but he once more wore the demon's smile and reached forward to pass his tongue along the soft flesh between her jawbones with a growling croon.

"The rest of the days are ours."