Chapter 4: 'Rummed'
"Are you still.." her eyes looked over at him – confused, lost within their own depths. It seemed by now there was no hope in looks. She had to ask to receive his full understanding. "Rummed?" She continued, once glance at him before back at the wet bed sheets that by now had been hidden under for days.
His eyes did not return her glance but begged at the floor for his balance, tottering uneasily upon wobbly legs. "No..just hung over." His voice was calm and bland, there was nothing that could be heard from his tone of speech which was as equally dissatisfying as his answer, head spinning too much to look up.
He had been just that calm. Just that drunk back then when it had all started, assuring himself it was just a phase. It was just a phase. Wasn't it?
…then her head hit the door frame and her eyes sunk back into her head, mesmerized by the touch of what she felt against her clothed body like a lightening bolt of extreme shock to her whole system. She couldn't function.. she couldn't feel.. anything for seconds then it hit. Jack was against her. The smell of rich endorsed spices and herbs of all sorts. The taste of salt and muddled rum between his curved moustache and lips. Her lips were returning his equal passion and lust over Elizabeth and neither voice spoke any words for fear the words may have left them unfulfilled. The young governor's daughter hadn't a clue what was happening to her. Not one single inch of thought until her arms had already lay low along his back, circling movements of up and down notions only pulling him closer between her thighs and nothing, no mere miracle could have stopped them before..
"..help." He had finished her previous sentence of concluding she didn't need his assistance, nor his speech nor his.. Eyes did not move and mouth hung lowly open, staring – oscillating for seconds until she snapped and that rich toothed smirk came into view. Soft dark eyes glanced her back and a hand traced the edge of her arms length before he turned away and sat by his office chair guzzling another of his bottles.
No more, no less, that was all.
Eyes did not break the staring habit though for moments she could not take her gaze of his – unbelieving of the event that had just occurred, just to silence her, just to calm, just to soothe, just to ease her.. and.. that was all.
"I..your cabin is.. c..cold." She was shivering from the feeling of him held there against her – him, against her. Jack Sparrow, not her beloved William Turner.
Another mistake.
He stood, picked coat off his chair and then.. "no no.. no, I must.. go." Her own eyes had been lost with worry and pain for the thought that now – Jack, so easily tormented and teased by women – seductive on every aspect to every wench and worse of woman of Tortuga had, had his lips around hers. It felt.. dirty.. unclean.. Elizabeth had sat there in her cabin for hours weeping over it all before she had came to a conclusion. One she would never repent from.. one which she had no choice but to abide by and one of which was something which she had been running from a long time, since the day she had met Jack.
It felt.. right.
She had ran, slamming the door behind her leaving Jack dangling there, alone with his long and tattered captain's coat in his hand dangling loosely and eyes of sorrow and worries. Had he hurt her.. again?
"Lizzy?"