A/N: Here's the finale! Comments and feedback are greatly appreciated :) if you want any more between these two, let me know! I'd be happy to keep writing them. Enjoy!
Joanna's chocolate eyes shimmered. Somewhere deep within him, James found it rather cute that this young, little slip of a woman believed she had the upper hand. Her statement presented like a promise, when really he knew better. It was a threat, and an empty one at that. One used to rouse his dominance.
Dominance he had yet to truly to exercise.
Slipping back to allow herself just enough room to move, Joanna gave him one final, coy look before she spun around in his lap. Her toned, slender back to him once more, she inched herself backward until the firm swell of her rear settled against his stiff length.
She smirked in triumph at his hoarse grumble from the contact of her bottom rubbing his erection, before she stilled. Awaiting his next move.
Molten green eyes burned holes into her back, the vein in his temple pulsing in tandem with his aggravated cock. Teased almost to completion, it twitched against her buttocks with impatience beneath the waters surface.
Yet where his neglected nethers lacked patience, James himself possessed it in spades. He allowed Joanna her fun, but now as they both well knew, was the time for the Commodore to assume control once more.
I'll reign this wild little filly in yet.
A sigh of bliss bled through her lips, the sound music to his ears, as long, lean arms wrapped around her front to draw her in closer to his chest. It felt natural, how well she fit in his arms, how delicate she was in contrast to his masculinity.
It was the first time James loosened restraint, and touched her, basking in the sensation of her porcelain smooth flesh, warm and supple in his hands. He tested the waters by dipping his head to nuzzle her temple, inhaling her aroma of warm spices, jasmine and lily. The under swell of her petite breasts grazed his forearms with how he enveloped her in his embrace, a temptation he ignored.
He needed to keep his focus about him, if only for a little while longer.
She returned the gesture, lulling her head to lean into him with a delighted hum. James allowed himself to indulge in that moment of reprieve for a beat longer, before he launched his assault.
His hot breath misted against her ear, forcing goose bumps to raise at the low rumble of his whisper. His lips were close enough to plant a kiss there, or better yet, to coax her decorated lobe between his teeth and give her a nip. True to his stubborn nature, and the rekindled desire to make her squirm like she did him, he only touched her by way of his breath on her wet skin.
"It's become evident to me, Miss Francis, you've yet to be put in your proper place."
And squirm did she. The moment now deliciously taut, stoking the blaze at her core, Joanna tossed her chin over her shoulder. "Is that so?"
"Quite." It was now James' turn to damn the rules of engagement. She felt his large palms and long, sinewy fingers snatch her around the waist. So narrow in his grasp that the tips of his fingers could touch even with her in between. He deftly hoisted her up and spun her around, forcing her to face him once more. "A deficiency I intend to rectify.
He cupped her roughly about the hips, aiding her as she climbed back into his lap, her nimble fingers sweeping over his broad chest to steady herself. His length pulsed emphatically between his thighs at the sight of her on top of him, golden and glistening, the flicker of candle flame reflected against her wet flesh. And in her dark, cat like eyes, wide and glossy with lust for him.
It fueled the ache in the pit of his stomach, that liquid heat scorching him from the inside out. A white hot burn coiling tighter and tighter from many years of neglect, now morphing into pure need. A need turned all the more insistent because of her.
A need that would have to wait that much longer. James wanted to tame that wicked, insolent flame before it consumed them both. In order to tame her, he needed to break her in first. He wanted her to beg for him.
Without further teasing or banter, he pinned her still in his lap and bent his neck, dropping his hungry mouth to her chest. He took the dusky peak of her nipple into his mouth, latching onto the sensitive tissue with an expertise alone that made her blush. In a bid to assert his power, when he flicked his tongue over her roseate bud and hallowed out his cheeks to suckle, he forced eye-contact throughout it all. Eyes glazed and lids heavy, he watched her.
Snaking his arms around her back while she writhed, her reddened cheeks burning hotter, whimpering while James' teeth nipped down around the pillowy flesh of her breast. Sucking with more force, he didn't let up his hold, keeping her right where he needed as he lavished her tit.
And every time she dared to peer back at him, those wicked green irises were right there waiting for her. Blazing with greed. Watching as she came undone in his arms.
Adding insult to injury was the wolffish grin he flashed her around the nipple he still latched to, unyielding and possessive. He groaned into her as he sunk his teeth in, a raw, guttural sound from deep in his chest. Not even in her wildest dreams did she think the Commodore would be animalistic, primal. With the low gravel of his voice, it only seemed to suit him more.
Her fingers twisted in the damp locks at his nape and yanked in response. Her nubile body wriggling in protest to his exquisite torture.
"C-commodore, please, I beg of you!" She whined, shuddering in his arms from now his scruff rubbed her skin raw.
The thought of at long last sheathing himself to the hilt inside of her drove him all the more feral. His cock throbbed, sore and heavy with lethargy between his thighs, the stitch running up his sack puckered impossibly tight in anticipation to empty. Her noises only worsened his condition, teasing his ear with kitten mewls and sighs.
James released his hold on her nipple with a pop, placing a gentle kiss to her now blotched peak. He dragged his gaze up and down her heaving chest, face twisted in a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment.
"What is it you beg for, darling?" His tone husky, the pet name made her choke out a sob of frustration. Commodore Norrington had never addressed her as anything other than Miss Francis, or Miss Joanna. At least never directly to she herself, that was. Hearing him call her something so affectionate was her final undoing. "I'm afraid you will have to state all of your needs rather plainly, lest I misunderstand your meaning."
At this she laughed, rueful and indignant. "And you call me wicked."
James loosened his hold on her to trace his fingertips teasingly up and down the curve of her spine, relishing her shivers. The Commodore was smug as he was wolffish. "I'm merely following your lead, my lady."
Joanna smirked, leaning forward to mold her front to his, wrapping her arms around his neck. He lounged back against the washtub, taking her with him. "Then allow me to commend you on your adaptability," she purred into his ear, flicking the tip of her tongue against the lobe. "Cruelty becomes you."
James grunted into the humid air, before chuckling in vain at next feeling her silken cunt brush his girth. "I'll not let it be said that my cruelty is unjust." His palm found the nape of her neck, knotting his fingers into her roots. With his hold firm and pressure gentle, he pulled her head back. Forcing her to face him. "I'm of the mind to grant you your every request. All you have to do is ask nicely."
"Please, Commodore Norrington, I ache to be filled by you."
The expression on his face shifted from arousal, to one of slight agony. A flicker of the stoic man, with whom she was infinitely more familiar, resurfacing. "I am to be your first? Truly?" Quite literally scruffed like an unruly kitten by his grasp, all she could do was nod in silence. James swallowed hard, imbued with severity. "The last thing I mean to do is dissuade you, but there will be some pain."
He felt her palm cup his cheek, the tip of her thumb stroking over the prominent bone there. She then whispered to him in the dark. "I want your pain."
Needing no more assurance and unable to stall further, James released his hold. Both hands dipped below the waters surface to once more guide her hips to the proper position, moving her with great care and deliberation.
Joanna's heart nearly burst out of her chest the moment his head nudged at her folds. Even submerged in the water as she was, Jame's could still feel how slippery her petals were, slick with her need for him.
Holding her breath, her claws dug into his shoulder and the back of his neck for purchase. A high, keening whine seethed from her twisted pout as he worked her down his shaft, inch by inch.
"Good God." James huffed through his grit teeth, tossing his head back, his chest constricting with shallow breaths. Though he didn't keep his eyes from her for long, unwilling to miss even a moment more than necessary of how she fared in taking his intrusion.
She took a moment to adjust to him, arched in his lap and mewling like an alley-cat. Her nails carved angry red lines over the contours of his collar and down the tensed musculature of his pectorals.
He wasn't in a hurry himself, basking in the sensation of her core scrambling to accommodate his swollen mass. Trying not to rip her apart, and eclipse her pleasure with pain.
He was true to his word; there was pain. A sharp pinch, a searing burn in her loins. Even still, to her that felt divine in comparison to the nagging ache that plagued her previous.
She fit him like a glove, kneading and massaging his impressive girth with every twitch of her walls.
"Yes you are." Joanna then gasped, stars speckling across her vision. He bottomed out within her, despite how slow and steady he fought to keep the pace.
She was a petite woman for the size and scope of man he was, which did nothing to quell her ambition.
Her body soon took over, and began to move in a motion that felt natural. She rolled her pelvis forward and back, her hips rocking against his body like waves lap a shoreline, rhythmic in its provocation. The bath water rippled out from around her torso, gently splashing up his chest with her every gyration.
He couldn't remember the last time he experienced this bliss. The pillowy velvet of her cunt, warm and maddeningly tight around him, twitching and puffy from his entry, fanned his flames.
A knot of white hot need, the product of his festered neglect, was now a molten core in the depths of his pelvis. It burned hotter with every spasm of her around him, every gasp and moan that tumbled listless from her pursed lips.
He didn't relinquish his firm hold, either on the situation, or Joanna herself. His calloused palm, large and unyielding, swept upwards the front of her body to her neck. Only he didn't grab or squeeze, he simply held her throat, grazing the erratic flutter of her pulse with his fingertips, tracing the delicate cartilaginous structure with his thumb.
James didn't handle her with bruising strength, he didn't need to. The weight of his hold on her alone was heavy with unspoken intent. The implication of his dominance absolute by the way he bent her to his whim without having to do much at all.
Though it was she who was on top of him, she now knew her place. He was in control.
A true leader need not reign by force, or aggression. Simply by his presence would those under him fall into line. That's exactly what James did. Who he was. And Joanna was happy to oblige his authority.
"That's a good girl." His hushed, rumbling purr of praise electrified every fiber of her being, earning a delicious squeeze of her virgin walls around him. Still cradling her throat with one hand and holding her hip with the other, he groaned. "You feel just as I imagine heaven might."
If James believed himself worthy of salvation, he now knew it was delivered in the form of Joanna.
He was surprised to find her sharp tongue dulled and quiet while in the midst of their tryst. So quick was she to wield her silver tongue otherwise, now that they were joined in the way that she ached for, all she could muster were moans and gasps. Obscene, shrill chirps and squeaks that echoed his much deeper, much heavier grunts and sighs.
The water of the washtub had grown cold, yet the chill didn't reach them; their bodies burned. The sea rocked and dipped The Dauntless in a rhythm that matched theirs, while the rain fell gently against the ship around them.
Once James felt she was adequately adjusted, he began to buck his hips, none too gently, his glazed eye full of the way it jostled the perkiness of her chest. She cried out for him into night, struggling to remain steadily mounted as he all but bounced her in his lap. He didn't move fast, but where he reserved his speed, he more than made up for in exertion. He snapped his hips into her, his growls and groans increasing in ferocity.
It was around then, when the arching starvation in the pit of his stomach almost consumed him, did he then decide he needed the physical control just as much as the emotional.
His hands roamed up her back to cup the tops of each shoulder. Shifting both of their weights, he lowered her to lay back in the tub while he maneuvered himself on top.
Joanna peered up through the veil of her lashes, eyes full of him, glossy lips parted. Tendrils of loose hair swayed in the water beneath her at her neck and shoulders.
James paused, taking that moment to feel himself pulse within her velvet confines, which squeezed down hard around him in response. Drawn in by the sight of her lips, it had occurred to him only then he had yet to kiss her. She spoke up and broke his distraction, drawing her legs up to lock her delicate ankles at the small of his back.
"I do believe it's a little late for cold feet now, of all times." She goaded, but it was playful. Her voice cracking from having sang his praises long and hard.
James smirked, clicking his tongue down at her. His tone was a low, hushed rumble, one she felt in the quivering, delicate bud hidden between her folds. "You won't be getting off that easy, Miss Francis. I'm nothing if not a strict disciplinarian."
Not allowing her the opportunity to retort with something cheeky, James began to thrust, his speed gradual. He couldn't help but pick up his pace, the way she wrapped herself around him, how she milked him, how she moaned his title like a prayer. It was itself a dangerous intoxication uniquely its own.
His one hand outstretched in front of him to grab ahold of the tubs ledge by her head, his other support her by her bottom, helping her to angle her own hips against his for as much friction between them as the water would allow.
If ever there was a time his God truly listened to him, it was then. Unsure of how much longer he himself could last, he breathed a sigh of relief into her hairline, feeling the beginning twitches and tell-tale signs she was succumbing to the build-up of her release.
Her nails embedded themselves into the meat of his back. Her thighs quivering around his hip and waist as her body began to jerk and tremble, as if possessed, she howled like a she-wolf. In a trance like state, she was a mere slave to her throes of ecstasy.
James was not far behind, yanked down into the depths of his own climax by the insistence of her spasming core. He emptied himself deep within her, shaking like a sick hound as he tightened his grip around her petite frame.
For a good long while they simply held onto each other in the cold bath, the only sound between them their panting, and the rain fall.
Now finding himself on the other end, the clarity was sobering. Just as James had thought to berate himself for the lapse in his resolve, to perhaps apologize, she spoke up.
When at last the silence was broken, as usual, what she chose to say was always what he least expected to hear.
"You called me Jo, the other evening. Do you remember?"
James winced. He didn't think she had heard, but he should have known better. He felt her eyes, those cat like eyes, on him always.
Even when he couldn't see her. He should know she was always there.
The incident in question was when he assumed, foolishly, he had a private moment with Mr. Dalton, some nights ago. Some of the men had been behaving in a way that could only be categorized as out of line.
"Not to excuse their behavior, sir, but I do believe it's due to Miss Joanna's... presence onboard. It's been a lengthy voyage and she er...," he cleared his throat. "Makes 'em rowdy."
James snorted, dry and mirthless, as he looked out into the ocean. "Quite. Jo does seem to have that affect, doesn't she."
It was improper to address her as such, and he hadn't even noticed his own slip up.
If Mr. Dalton had, he had the good sense not to draw attention to it, uttering not a word.
James gingerly went about untangling himself from her, half-expecting her to shy away from him. She didn't. Choosing instead to hold out her hand for him, looking dazed and utterly content, as he helped her back into his lap to snuggle into his chest.
"Apologies. It seems as though you make me forget myself often."
Her finger-tips trailed lazily over his chest, raking through the hair and stroking whichever scars happened to be in her way. After a moment he followed suit, noting how she still shivered from the way his fingers traced up and down her spine.
She giggled, low and throaty, almost like a kittens purr. "I'd like for you to call me that again."
He didn't answer, but she continued. Her voice much quieter, wistful even, she simply mused aloud, as if addressing no one in particular. Though he knew she spoke solely for him. "My grandfathers name is James," she began. "My grandmother is who I was named after. She died when I was very young... but everyone called her Jo. The only person to ever call me that... was my grandfather."
She spoke, and he listened.
There was still so much about her he didn't know, frustrating him to no end. But these details were deeply... personal, and she volunteered them. In that light they were no longer a mere triviality, or crumbs to string him along. James now knew something about her. They felt earned.
Before he realized what he was doing, he found himself bending his neck to place a kiss into her hair at the top of her head. The act of intimacy earned him her snuggling in deeper.
"He always turned a blind eye to my sister and I when we were up to no good."
James chuckled into her hair. "You? Mischievous? I don't believe that for a moment."
To this she laughed, audibly, and he found he quite liked the sound. It was sharp and genuine, still not without her overt femininity, it seemed less... guarded, than he was used to a woman's laughter. Less reigned in.
Though he felt victorious in having gleaned this new insight into her life, her history, there was still that itch she had yet to scratch. Be it from the fog of their affair furthering to cloud his prudence, he couldn't stop the words in time.
"You still have not deigned to humor me with your business in Port Royal, your relation to Governor Swann." He cleared his throat. "Who it is that you even are."
Joanna shocked him for the umpteenth time, but with her silence. Dreaded, uncharacteristic silence.
"Well, for one thing, I hear you have the sun there." Her eyes sparkled in bemusement, pointedly dodging his question, while ignoring the one about her identity altogether. Well aware that was something they both recognized, unbothered to even mask it. "And you."
James shook his head, but caught a wry grin creeping onto his face. Nonetheless, it did not match his dour tone. "I suppose the knowledge that you are but one more elusivity in my life will have to suffice."
At this, she turned in his lap to look up at him, her eyes pleading. "Is it not enough to simply have me, here and now, dutifully in your arms, Commodore?"
James found himself ensnared once more by those endless feline eyes. They begged him even still, but this time it wasn't for his touch. It was not to pry.
The Commodore did not relinquish his authority. He did not concede on much, if anything at all. Where there was a lead, he chased it unceasingly. He would go to the ends of the Earth to apprehend Jack Sparrow, as he would do just so to get to the bottom of Joanna Francis.
And yet when he looked into her eyes, everything in him looked to abandon instinct. Surrender to her his very nature.
"If it pleases you," he stopped himself, his chest tight. He then sighed in defeat, uttering throatily. "Call me James."
"James." She sighed his name aloud, tasting it on her tongue. She smiled. "James."