A Pirate's Life

By Rosalyn Coleman

This is a 20,000 word novella.

At the age of fifteen Madeline crossed from England to stay with her Admiral father in the Caribbean. On the crossing she falls in love with a midshipman named Flynn Savage, a love that was never to be.

At age seventeen she elopes with a blacksmith to Tortuga and by age twenty she's realized she's made a terrible mistake. A chance encounter with Flynn gives her hope--hope that is dashed to pieces when he betrays and abandon's her.

Madeline is a fallen woman on the run, taking up piracy to avoid her past. But Flynn won't give up on her that easily, and even the most hardened pirate heart can be softened and tamed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Luna Erotica Wilder
• Release date: Sep 26, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310420498

Rosalyn Coleman

Cats, tea, old stuff, and books.

Book preview

To Love a Pirate

By Rosalyn Coleman

Copyright 2014 by Rosalyn Coleman

Smashwords Edition

Cover art by Pzaxe

Cover Design by Leigh Wilder

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Part 1

Tortuga, 1715

The sounds of clanging metal rang out through the forge. John was sweating like a pig from the heat of the fire, and wondered why on earth any man would want to be a blacksmith in the middle of the tropics. His hammer crashed against the anvil as he made horse shoes. One after another.

It was a far cry from the swordsmithing he used to do. Sure, once and a while there was an order for a sword. But mostly it was horseshoes and nails. Often a man would come in with a broken something or other from a ship, and John would have to figure out how to repair it or make a new one.

Making swords for a living had been a dream, he realized. As a smith for the English Navy he had worked under their swordsmith, growing in skill both in the craft and use of the sword. But eloping with the Admiral’s daughter had been disastrous. He reminded himself time and time again that fleeing to the Buccaneer island of Tortuga was better than a hanging. After all, he still had his Madeline.

Darling, Madeline called from the doorway. She was wearing a simple blue dress and a big white apron, a far cry from the lady she had been born as. She was brown as any native from working outdoors, and her hands were nearly as rough as his own. Still, her natural beauty remained in her slim figure and delicate features. And they were happy. Neither had any regrets.

Yes, my dear? John replied, tossing his head back to get his hair out of his face, sweat droplets flying in all directions.

It’s time to eat. Get washed up. She hurried back to the house before him.

At the well John stripped down to just his breeches, washing quickly from the bucket with the soft soap Madeline made herself. They had been married three years, and in that time she had gone from knowing nothing more than needle point and making sweetmeats, to running a household as well as any other working class wife. She could even help out in the forge, and at her own insistence was learning how to make swords and fight with them. She could butcher a boar, shoot a pistol, and had no fear of the rough men inhabiting the town of Cayona. Sometimes, in the latter respects, he wished he was less capable. Her lack of fear worried him. Plenty of trouble could be gotten into in town, and he worried Madeline did not take danger seriously.

Back at the fort where he worked and her father was stationed she had been bold and headstrong. She hated the life of a lady and he wondered at her sneaking away from the household for sword fighting lessons. When they married he feared she would find the life of a blacksmith’s wife as tedious as her large white house and servants, but she had settled into the role nicely.

John crossed the yard to the little house behind the forge, carrying his shirt, his breeches and hair soaking wet. The house was just one room, but it was all they needed. Madeline had supper set out on the table, and she was waiting for him with a smile on her face. I'm not wearing any petticoats, she told him.

He pulled her close to him. Is that so? he asked, burying his face in her neck, kissing up to her ear. You tell me this right before we sit down to eat?

The food always tastes better cold-eaten naked.

I wouldn't know. It's been so long since I've had a hot meal.

They fell together into bed. Every day was as exciting as the first with Madeline, whose appetite for sexual congress had always been strong. He pulled his breeches off, suddenly too tight at the groin area, and stripped her dress off as quickly as possible, wanting so very badly to get to the soft flesh beneath.

She lay before him naked and beautiful, her small round breasts rising and falling with her breath. I can't get enough of you, he whispered, covering her body with his.

Fuck me, John.

John winced. He hated it when she used such harsh language.

Madeline needed no preparation, no cream or grease to prepare her for his cock. She was wet and willing. Other men had frigid wives who refused the marriage bed, or had to be forced or coerced. He was lucky to have such a lusty wife, so unlike the cold, high-born navy wives and daughters he had met during his time there. Madeline wanted him. Needed him. He thrust into her, hard and ready, and she cried out as he filled her and began to pound into her.

She writhed and moaned underneath him as he ground his hips against hers over and over. Oh, I wish you didn't have to stop, Madeline breathed. She thrust her hips forward to meet his own, clutching at the bedclothes.

I don't, John assured, pumping even faster. He wasn't going to last long. He never did when she wanted to be 'fucked.'

No, get off of me.

Madeline, please, he begged as his release grew, but he knew there was no point in arguing. She pushed against his chest and he pulled out, wanting to cry in frustration, wanting to hold her down and fuck her until his seed exploded inside her womb.

Her hand wrapped around his sex-wetted cock and she began to stroke him hard. He came almost immediately, and spilled himself all over her stomach.

Too close, Madeline whispered