Lust in the Caribbean Read online

  Lust in the Caribbean

  Noah Harris

  Contents

  Lust in the Caribbean

  Disclaimer

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  Lust in the Caribbean

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Notes from the Author

  More Books by Noah Harris

  Dark Romance City of Sinners Series

  All Rights Reserved

  © 2017

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Disclaimer

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are all invented. Any similarities to real places, events or people, living or dead, are unintentional.

  This book contains sexually explicit content that is intended for a MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY.

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  On a ship traversing the dangerous seas in 1710, surrendering to the swashbuckling pirates of The Manhunter will yield the most pleasurable of outcomes.

  Thomas Treadwell takes to the high seas as a sailor on a merchant ship as he searches for freedom, a difficult thing to find for a man such as himself in the 18th century. While he must hide his most essential self in the daylight, his forbidden desires are allowed brief tastes of clandestine passion under the cover of night and with faceless partners. It’s not the freedom he’d hoped to one day find, but it was better than most realities for a catamite. Caught in the taboo act aboard the VIrtue, a pious ship captained by the sanctimonious Captain Temperance Stone, Thomas faces death for his crime of finding pleasure with a fellow sailor.

  But his fate changes in an instant when the Virtue is caught and boarded by the notorious Manhunter, a pirate ship purportedly manned by men just like him, men who desire men. The ship of criminal misfits offers him safe harbor as a guest, and what was always forbidden is accepted and celebrated. Celebrated heartily and with many of his newfound sailing companions. But when he stumbles upon their mysterious secret, passions and suspicions are aroused. Thomas must decide whether to join their ranks for good, making him a criminal in his own eyes.

  Lust in the Caribbean delivers sexy scenes and high adventure, transporting readers back to a faraway place and time. Dive deep and experience the journey right alongside Thomas, as he discovers the meaning of acceptance, loyalty and the rule of love over law.

  Western Atlantic Ocean, 1710

  The whip lashed down on the sailor tied to the mainmast, forcing a grunt from deep within his gut. The man was barely conscious, his chin resting on his arm. His arms were tied together around the thick mast as if he were pulling it into an embrace. He was stripped to the waist, sweat pouring from his body from the strain, the fear, and the scorching summer sun beating down on the deck of the merchant ship Virtue. Blood dripped from his back in a steady patter like rain.

  The whip came down again, and this time the man didn’t grunt but let out a little cough.

  Thomas Treadwell, sailor, knew that the man would be dead soon. His face had gone pale and he had long since stopped struggling. The first mate, who had been performing the whipping, had grown tired and had switched arms so he could continue to give the sailor more lashes. The burly and brutish second-in-command of the Virtue looked almost as exhausted as the man he was slowly killing, but he persisted. Captain Temperance Stone stood nearby with a placid look on his hard but handsome face. The entire crew assembled in a circle around the scene of the punishment. Some looked pale, others gleeful, while others looked as though they would be sick.

  But no one looked away. The captain had ordered every sailor on his ship to watch this man get whipped to death, and no one dared disobey an order from Captain Stone.

  Thomas Treadwell did not look away, either. He couldn’t. He was tied to the mizzenmast in the same fashion as the sailor being killed before his eyes.

  Archibald, Thomas reminded himself. Archibald Cook of Suffolk. Remember that name. He died because of you.

  And you are going to die because of him.

  The first mate had caught them touching each other in the privy the night before. Late at night it was the custom of some of the men—a custom never spoken of in daylight hours and in only hushed tones between those engaged in the act—to sneak off to the privy and find some release at the hands of another man. The privy consisted of two tiny cabins at the prow of the middle deck, the holed seats emptying to the ocean below. Between the two seats was a partition, but someone had loosened one of the boards so it could be removed, allowing access to the adjoining seat.

  Thomas had woken in the middle of the night to the sound of someone departing for the privy. The soft pad of bare feet on the middle deck where Thomas and the others had slung their hammocks wouldn’t have awoken most men, but Thomas Treadwell wasn’t like most men. When in port he never sought out the low taverns where doxies sold their bodies and time, and back home in Kent he had never tumbled in a hayloft with any of the sweet farmers’ daughters who made themselves available to the village swains.

  No, he had preferred the touch of fellow men. When rumors to this effect began to be whispered at the hearths and market stalls of his village of Buckland, Kent, he had departed for the sea.

  And there, he had found some men who shared his inclinations.

  But even on the Virtue one had to be careful. Temperance Stone was a dour, religious man, and his first mate, although in truth the Devil’s own son with more sins to his name than the entire population of Clink Prison, was his personal lapdog. Captain Stone paid him well and gave him a steady supply of victims for his harsh justice. The smallest infraction was met with swift, brutal correction.

  So, when Thomas had eased himself out of his hammock late last night, he had taken care. To be caught in such an act meant hard punishment anywhere on land or sea, but to be caught on the merchant ship Virtue touching another man, well, that would be unthinkable.

  He had tiptoed past the snoring, suspended forms of his shipmates in their hammocks and travelled the narrow corridor past the quartermaster’s stores to the privies.

  Thomas tried one of the doors, but it was shut from the inside with the short bolt of wood used to give a man the only privacy he could expect on a ship at sea. He entered the other door and closed it behind him.

  He sat down on the seat, smelling the salt air rushing up from around the cover placed over the hole of the toilet to keep the occasional high wave from throwing wate
r inside. The interior of the privy was dark, the only light shining from under the crack in the door, coming from a lantern kept burning in the passageway,.

  Thomas was met only by the low rush of a quiet sea and the steady creak of the ship, his world otherwise silent.

  Thomas let out a little cough. His heart fluttered when a cough came from the adjoining stall as a response.

  There was a pause, and then the board was removed from the other side, creating an opening about twelve inches long by four inches wide.

  The man in the other stall had already lowered his trousers and sat on the covering like Thomas did. A little light filtered through the bottom of the doorway of the other stall too, but still Thomas could barely see. What he did see was a stiff, erect cock within easy reach.

  Thomas licked his lips, feeling his own member swell inside the confines of his trousers. He hurried to pull them down. As he did so, a hand reached through the opening and grasped his private parts.

  Thomas let out a sigh and reached through to do the same for the unknown man in the other stall, his arm resting on the arm of his companion.

  All the cares of the day fell away as Thomas felt the strong, calloused hand of the sailor work at his meat, while he felt the smooth, stiff flesh of the man’s piece in his own hand.

  They stroked each other for a time before Thomas made a slight movement to indicate he wanted to change. The hand withdrew and Thomas stood, pushing his cock through the partition.

  In the strange, unspoken language of the privy that Thomas had come to learn, a few moments of hesitation would signal that the man was unwilling to take Thomas’s meat in his mouth.

  But this man was willing. Oh, was he willing. Thomas shivered as his eight inches of thick manhood got expertly encased in a hot, wet mouth. He could feel the end of his cock sliding down the man’s throat before he pulled back and the man’s tongue played with the bulbous head.

  Thomas pressed his forehead against the board and relaxed further. Heat flushed his body as the man’s mouth worked his organ. Slowly, the man worked Thomas up to a fever pitch. He was near the brink, but as he approached his final few seconds before orgasm, Thomas pulled away. He didn’t want to shoot yet. No, some things were better unhurried.

  Thomas got down on his knees. His companion had already understood and his cock stood stiff and proud through the partition. Thomas still didn’t know who this man was. That was the way many sailors liked it, including Thomas himself. It was so hard to see in the privy at night that one could always deny one had been there. However, there was no denying the attraction of that stiff six inches of meat before his face.

  Thomas paused, allowing the musky scent of a man who had worked hard all day in the sun to fill his nostrils. He relaxed further, reveling in this gentle submission. During the day, the lads were all swagger and vigor, and that was fine by him because he liked a man’s man, but there were times when Thomas wanted to express a gentler side. How he would love to cuddle up next to some strapping fellow and sleep without fear of the law.

  At least he had this. Parting his eager lips, he took the man’s organ into his mouth.

  It was then that the first mate had come barging into Thomas’s stall.

  Thomas had forgotten to bolt the door.

  The man’s massive hands grabbed him by the shoulders and flung him into the hallway as if he weighed nothing more than a down pillow. With a swift kick, he smashed the door to the other stall to splinters and hauled out Thomas’s companion. It was only then that Thomas saw who it was—Archibald Cook of Suffolk, a fine sailor with fifteen years of service at sea, five of them on the Virtue. The first mate gave them each a punch that left them sprawled on the floor.

  They had pleaded with him, had attempted bribes and threats, all to no avail. The first mate had hollered out their crime in a loud, braying voice that brought the crew and the captain running. Thomas and Archibald were thrown in chains into separate cells down near the bilges to await their fate.The whip coming down once more brought Thomas back to the present. Archibald was slumped against the mainmast now, not even making the smallest sound as the whip lashed his back. Again, and again it fell, and even from his vantage point several paces away, Thomas saw the blood fly with every stroke. The first mate’s face and bare chest were flecked with it. The fellow didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he was grinning.

  After a few more lashes, the panting officer motioned for the ship’s doctor to approach. The older man, dressed in a civilian coat rather than the simple shirt and trousers of the sailors, felt Archibald’s wrists. Then he placed two fingers on the man’s neck. After a moment, he turned to the captain and shook his head.

  Thomas’s heart sank. Archibald had been killed for nothing more than giving pleasure to another willing man. Thomas had watched the whole execution, trying to catch Archibald’s eye, but the man wouldn’t look at him. He had seemed ashamed of what he had done.

  Thomas glared at the captain. Temperance Stone was a tall man, well over six feet, with a powerful frame and a craggy yet handsome face. If he hadn’t been so evil, Thomas would have lusted after him. Despite his religious demeanor and a rigid code of ethics that would rival any Puritan colony in the Americas, rumors had it that Captain Stone was a hypocrite. Whispers told he used that handsome face and strong body, along with the hefty fortune he had made with the numerous ships he owned, to tumble with many a maid in ports all over the world.

  It was all conquest for him. Once he had taken a woman’s maidenhead, he discarded her to raise the fruits of their passion alone and unaided while he went in search for the next conquest. Dozens of impoverished, fatherless children in as many ports would grow up with the face of Temperance Stone.

  “You may proceed with the next execution,” the captain declared.

  The first mate nodded, panting, and took a huge drink from a bucket of water one of the sailors handed him. He dumped the rest of the bucket over his head to cool himself and with a grin approached the mizzenmast where Thomas was tied fast.

  “Are you tired?” Captain Stone asked his first mate.

  “Not so tired that I can’t send this catamite to the Devil.”

  The captain smiled a self-righteous smile. “Then go to it, man, and may the Lord guide your hand.”

  Thomas tried to be brave. It would be a slow, excruciating death. He knew this, but what he truly feared was what would come after. Like everyone else, he believed in Heaven and Hell, God and the Devil. He had heard in sermons how men who bedded with other men were doomed to eternal damnation, and yet in those same sermons he had heard that God had made man in his own image, had given each man his own characteristics and talents. It was God’s will, for example, that Captain Stone was handsome, and that his first mate was as strong as an ox. It was God’s will that one man was good at singing while another was a fast runner. So, if God had made him attracted to men and not women, did this not mean that God wished it so? When playing with his companions in the privy he had sensed that some were hesitant, unsure of themselves, not through fear but because of the strangeness of fondling another man. He sensed these fellows were looking for some relief between the woman they found in ports. Eager, skilled fellows like Archibald and himself, however, were the true man-lovers. They would never even think of bedding a lass. They had no attraction to such a body. Surely that must have been God’s will?

  Perhaps he wasn’t going to Hell as everyone said. Perhaps he was going to Heaven.

  He’d soon find out.

  The first mate got into position behind him and raised his whip.

  “Ship ahoy! Look to starboard!”

  The call from the crow’s nest made everyone turn. Thomas had to crane his neck painfully to be able to look in that direction, scraping his chin against the mizzenmast as he did so.

  There was, indeed, a ship on the horizon, coming in full sail from the northeast as the Virtue tacked into a facing wind.

  “Fetch my glass!” the captain ordered.

/>   A sailor hurried to do his bidding. Once he returned with the spyglass, the captain studied the ship in the distance.

  “It’s bearing down on us. No honest vessel would approach in such a manner. I suspect pirates.”

  A worried mutter went through the crew.

  “Well don’t stand there lollygagging! Helmsmen, hard about. Rigging crew, get up there and open all sails! We’ll outrun her!”

  Thomas doubted that. The mysterious ship practically danced over the waves, moving under full sail with a strong wind, and as she approached she looked like a fine vessel, expertly built for speed and maneuverability. She appeared to be a three-masted brigantine, although the deck was flat like a sloop. The Virtue was a fine ship too, but she was a stout merchant vessel built for steadiness and carrying capacity. She wasn’t built for speed and currently, she was weighed down with a full cargo.

  Thomas knew that his captain had discerned all this too. In his few years at sea—for Thomas Treadwell was still a fresh-faced young man—he had seen many a sailor and many a captain at their work. He had hopped from one ship to another, the goal to gain experience on various seas, and also to find a crew where there were men like him. So strange that he would find such men under the command of such a captain! And in all that wandering under all those captains, he had never met one as skilled as Temperance Stone.

  The captain and his crew did their best as they hauled the ship about in as tight a circle as she could go, and unfurled the sails in the blink of an eye. Soon the wind filled them, and propelled the Virtue to cut through the waves as fast as any man on the Seven Seas could make her go.