A Pirate’s Dream

Atlantis Allure

Blurb

An erotic anthology of stories set in the lost city of Atlantis, by eXtasy Books authors.  In A Pirate’s Dream, an inexperienced and gravely injured pirate finds succor… and more… at the hands of an Atlantean sex healer.

Excerpt

Material copyright Amelia June.  Feel free to share widely but don’t steal or say they’re your words.  As Wil Wheaton says, “don’t be a dick.”

Sand.  Lots of sand.
Christopher blinked a few times, but a blinding white light forced his eyes shut.  What had happened to him?  Thinking back, he could remember a fierce gale, one so strong it ripped the mainsail from the ship’s rigging and threw the boson overboard.  Soon after, Captain Little was shouting orders over the roar the rain made as it pelted the deck.  Past that, he could remember nothing.
Shipwrecked!  Of all the luck in the kingdom, shipwrecked just two months since going on the account.  Bugger that.  He spat a few times, clearing the sand from his mouth and nose.  Rolling over, Chris found his head swimming with the effort of movement.  Still, being on his back was better.  He could breathe the clean salt air and hear the sounds of the gentle waves on the shore.  The storm that had wrought his doom seemed to have passed.  Thank heaven for small blessings.
After some minutes had passed, he opened his eyes.  Squinting against the midday sun, he could see nothing but ocean in every direction.  No Love’s Alchemy washed up on some shore.  Just ocean.  He wasn’t shipwrecked then, but thrown off.  Those waisters left him for Davy Jones, and why wouldn’t they?  He was only a green deck-swabber from Scotland.  Captain Little probably hadn’t even noticed he was gone.  Nothing to be done about that now.  He had to find a way off this island.  No, first he had to sit up.
Chris took stock of his body.  His slops were stuck to every part of him, crusted with salt and blood.  The linen shirt he had stolen only two weeks ago was torn to shreds and he only had one shoe, the stocking full of water and sand.  The pain in his head throbbed dully, clouding his senses.  He noted a sharp pain each time he took in air, and a heavy, dead weight set about his bones that made him slow and dizzy.  All he knew for sure was that he was thirsty.
His youth afforded him the pleasures of strength so he was able to haul himself to standing.  He grabbed his side, pressing his hand over the worst of the pain as though trying to hold in his guts.  Waves of nausea passed over him and his throat felt as dry as the sand beneath his feet.  He scanned the meager plot of land he stood on, desperate for water.  Apart from a lone palm tree and a tangle of seaweed on the leeward side, he saw nothing at all, just sand.  Terror jabbed his heart into a rapid staccato beat.  He was stuck there with no food, no water, nothing at all for hundreds of miles in any direction.  He would surely die on that miserable little isle, with no one to take his last confession.  He would die a sinful pirate and burn in hell for his troubles.  Bugger.

Author’s Note: This is set in the same universe as my story A Pirate’s Legacy.  Christopher’s ship, the Love’s Alchemy, plays a central role in that novel.