Rogue Booty

  Rogue Booty

  Golden Angel

  Golden Angel LLC

  Cover Designed by Bianca Sommerland

  Edited by Personal Touch Editing

  * * *

  Copyright © 2021 by Golden Angel

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Foreword

  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

  About the Author

  Other Titles by Golden Angel

  Foreword

  Thank you for picking up my tale of pirates, spankings, and passion!

  Rogue Booty originally appeared in the Pirates, Passion, and Plunder anthology and I am thrilled to have it out in the world on its own. If it seems familiar, you may have read it there.

  I owe its epic name to Bianca Sommerland, the cover designer. When I saw the cover she’d made, I absolutely had to have it, and I asked that she make no changes other than adding my name. The hilarious title and tagline are all hers.

  A massive thank you to my beta readers: Katherine, Sir Nick, Marie, Annie, Karen, Marta, Candida, and Jessica. You keep me on track and in line, and every book I write has been made better for your involvement.

  And a final thank you to my husband, who not only dresses up like a pirate with me for Renn Fair and Pirate Festivals, but enjoys it as much as I do. I wouldn’t want to sail the seas of life with anyone else.

  And thank you, dear reader, for picking up this book. I hope you enjoy!

  Stay Sassy,

  Angel

  Chapter 1

  Blythe

  “That’s the bloke you want.” The whore nodded her head to indicate Blythe’s target, rather than pointing. Pointing would draw attention, which wasn’t something either of them wanted.

  Casually, Blythe shifted her weight so she could see the man the whore was indicating, just a little way down the road in the crowd. Even on a lane full of rogues and reprobates, he managed to stand out. Tall, commanding, and not conventionally handsome, but definitely striking. He had black curly hair, dark eyes like the devil, and his skin declared his mixed heritage. The sheer confidence and aura of raw sexuality he gave off were enough to draw the attention of nearly every woman who laid eyes on him.

  “That’s Captain Jake Raw?” she asked quietly, her eyes skirting back to the redhead she’d paid for information. The buxom beauty shook her head, and Blythe frowned.

  “That’s his brother and first mate of the Rawbone, Mack Raw,” the woman explained. She leaned into Blythe. “It’s said they like to share their women between them, and they’re as good at pleasurin’ as they are at plunderin’.” The salacious tidbit obviously intrigued the whore. “Ain’t that something? I wouldn’t even charge for a ride like that.” She grinned widely, her eyes still on Mack Raw as he prowled down the street away from them.

  The man did have a shapely ass.

  Startled by the thought, Blythe shook her head. That wasn’t why she was interested in him. She just needed an introduction to his brother.

  The Rawbone was the most feared pirate ship sailing the seas. They were ruthless but not merciless unless the ship they boarded was a slaver. Those crews were slaughtered, the slaves freed, then the ship patched up and added to their growing fleet. Merchants surrendered immediately rather than fight, and as long as they did, they lived to sail another day.

  Most merchants—just not those sailing into Antigua.

  The crews of those ships were treated as harshly as the slavers, and it was rumored the governor of Antigua had put a massive bounty on the head of each member of the crew, with the highest on Captain Jake Raw himself. It seemed there was bad blood between Antigua and Captain Raw.

  Blythe certainly hoped so.

  “My thanks,” she said to the whore, passing her a coin, which was swiftly tucked into the woman’s ample bosom. Nodding, the whore ambled off, looking for more clientele. Hitching the satchel where she’d stored all of her worldly possessions, Blythe moved after the first mate of the Rawbone.

  Mack

  He was being followed.

  The hairs on the back of his neck tingled, like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

  Casually, Mack turned the corner, glancing back, but no one immediately stood out. A man didn’t earn a bounty on his head without learning a few tricks. A few more turns, he realized the buxom brunette he kept overlooking was the one on his tail. It had taken him longer than usual because he’d been expecting a man, perhaps a spy from Antigua or even an official.

  If she was a spy, she was the prettiest spy he’d ever seen. He couldn’t quite imagine Hopkins sending a woman to do his dirty work, though as far as Mack had seen, the Governor of Antigua thought women were only good for two things.

  So, why was she following him?

  Curious to see how far she’d go, he strolled into The Rusty Pot. No woman in her right mind would enter the tavern unescorted. It was a place for drinking and making deals, not whoring. If she did come in, he’d have to either claim a meeting with her or watch her be raped and killed, but he didn’t mind doing the former. He wanted to know why she was following him, anyway.

  Absently greeting several of the men he passed, he made his way to the bar.

  “Ale,” he said to the barkeep, flipping him a coin. The man nodded and turned to grab a mug while Mack moved around to the far side of the bar, giving himself a clear view of the door. It also put him somewhat in the shadows, which would give him an opportunity to observe the woman if she came in.

  Several long moments passed, his ale arrived, and Mack sighed with a tinge of disappointment. He’d been looking forward to a bit of excitement. Seemed he’d have to go looking for her once he was done with his ale… or not. Perhaps she’d be outside waiting for him.

  There was a small stir in the crowd when the door opened, and the brunette stepped in.

  Unmistakably a woman, despite the breeches she was wearing, her very presence changed the atmosphere in the room. Every man’s gaze was drawn to her and not in a friendly manner. Sensing their animosity, her chin tilted in defiance, her eyes scanning the room, looking for him, he supposed.

  Before she found him in the gloom, a large, brawny man stepped in front of her. Mack didn’t need to see his face to know he was leering at her. Topping her height by a full head, the man loomed over her, his words clearly heard since all conversation had halted at her entrance.

  “Well, well, lass, ye’ve wandered into the wrong place, haven’ ya?”

  Sighing inwardly, hoping he wouldn’t have to fight the big swizzler, Mack got to his feet to intervene.

  Blythe

  The foul-smelling male in front of her was completely schnockered, cheap whiskey heavy on his breath. Blythe wrinkled her nose at the stench but didn’t step back. Retreating would likely only heat his blood further.

  She knew the Rusty Pot’s reputation and had almost turned away but hadn’t wanted to lose Mack Raw again. There was no knowing when the Rawbone might leave port, and she was determined to be on the ship when it did. If she approached him here, at least he’d know she was deadly serious.

  Inwardly sighing, she decided to try for a peaceable interactio
n. “Excuse me,” she said politely. “You’re in my way.”

  Uproarious laughter met her words, not just from the man in front of her, but everyone within earshot. Leering down at her, the man reached out and grabbed her, pulling her in close to him.

  “Oh no, lass, ye’re in my way...”

  Daft bastard.

  He was big, but he was also drunk and slow.

  Blythe lifted her knee, fast and hard. His breath came out in a shocked “oof” as he lurched forward. Twisting, she helped his face’s descent, right into the second strike of her knee, then shoved. He toppled over like a tree, landing on the floor with a loud thud, making pathetic wheezing noises as he clutched at his bleeding face with one hand and his groin with the other.

  With his large frame out of the way, her eyes adjusted to the dim interior, she was able to see her target in the back of the room, already on his feet and staring at her with shock. He wasn’t the only one looking at her that way.

  “My name is Blythe O’Malley,” she announced, hands on her hips. “And I’m here to speak with Mack Raw.”

  Head held high, she paced toward the man in question while the pirates whispered her name in awe. Not her full name—the name they knew her by.

  Bonny Blythe... it’s her. It’s Bonny Blythe.

  Chapter 2

  Mack

  Mack Raw was in love.

  He’d heard of Bonny Blythe O’Malley, of course. There wasn’t an abundance of women who took to the pirating life, so when one did—especially one as successful as Bonny Blythe—word spread.

  Gossip said she was a siren of the waves, beautiful and deadly. They said she was responsible for the sack of Fort Carolina after she seduced its general and opened the gates for her crew. Women were not usually welcome aboard a ship, but Bonny Blythe... well, Bonny Blythe was said to be a good luck charm for any crew lucky enough to draw her attention.

  She was a wisp o’ wind, drawn this way and that, and no one knew how she chose her next berth.

  It looked like Mack might be about to find out. If he’d known who was following him, he wouldn’t have gone into the Rusty Pot.

  As she approached, he turned back to the barkeep. “Another ale.”

  He might not be a gentleman, but he did have some manners. The smile of appreciation he received from her was its own reward. She was a comely woman in general, but when she smiled, she became radiant. The blue pools of her eyes were deep enough, a man could be tempted to dive in and never come out again.

  “You’re Mack Raw,” she said, her husky voice lilting a bit. He wondered how it would sound when she moaned—preferably his name. Regretfully, he put the notion aside… for now. The Rusty Pot was for business, not seduction. “First mate of the Rawbone.”

  “Aye,” he said, handing her the mug of ale the barkeep returned with.

  Taking it from him, she sipped almost daintily but didn’t even wrinkle her nose at the bitter taste. Mack had to admire her fortitude. The ale was barely drinkable, even by his standards, which were admittedly low.

  “I want to join your crew,” she said simply.

  Jake was going to shit his pants.

  Jake

  There was a certain feel to every ship, as though she had a mood of her own. A good captain could gauge that mood, could feel when it changed, when something disturbed her usual disposition.

  Which was how Jake knew something was amiss even before he left his cabin and stepped onto the deck. He rubbed the scar across his cheek, the way he often did when something felt off. The one time he’d ignored his instincts, he’d gotten the scar to remember it by.

  His instincts were so spot-on, he’d overheard his crew whispering he must have the Sight. As far as Jake knew, he didn’t, but he couldn’t deny he and Mack sometimes got feelings. Often their feelings had to do with each other. Sometimes they didn’t.

  Right now, his instincts were telling him something big was happening, but he didn’t feel as if he was in danger. No, this felt important in some other way.

  “Cap’n, Cap’n!” Big John came rushing over as soon as he saw Jake, more excited than Jake had ever seen him. The master gunner was a gruff, unfriendly man most days, protective of his men and his cannons, but unlikely to say more than a sentence or two at a time—at most. Grizzled, grey-haired, and missing his left arm from the elbow down, he was an intimidating barrel of a man... but right now, he looked more like an excitable youth. “She’s here.”

  “Who is here?” Jake asked, slightly alarmed. He’d never seen Big John excited about a woman. In fact, he was fairly sure the man had no interest in any kind of relations. He’d never indicated an interest in a woman or a man before.

  “Bonny Blythe.” The man’s tone was almost reverent.

  Blinking in shock, Jake picked up his pace, moving past Big John toward the crowd gathered midship. He could see the top of his brother’s head, standing slightly higher than the rest of the crew’s, but not who was standing in the space next to him.

  “No women on board!”

  He recognized the voice of Nate, their quartermaster. Unlike Big John, Nate loved the ladies, but only in their proper place—the brothel. Men had tried to find reasons to bring women aboard in the past for celebrations, and Nate had been the leader of those who voted against the practice. So far, they’d always won out.

  If this was Bonnie Blythe... Jake had just heard some new information in town that changed his immediate plans for the future, and he could use all the luck he could get.

  “Cap’n, coming through,” Big John roared out from him.

  The crew parted ranks, turning to watch his approach and giving him a clear path to Mack and the woman standing next to him. She wasn’t quite what he expected.

  Tall for a woman, she still only came up to Mack’s shoulder. Her eyes were big and blue and thickly lashed, without a trace of fear in them, despite being surrounded by a crew of misfits and rogues. Brown hair pulled back in a tight bun revealed the strong lines of her face and shoulders. She was wearing a loose-fitting shirt, wrapped with a wide band of green fabric, and breeches, similar to what most of his crew was wearing. None of it hid her curves.

  When she smiled up at him, it was like the sun breaking through the clouds, and she went from attractive to almost angelic.

  “Captain Jake Raw, I presume?” she asked in a husky contralto made for the bedroom. The woman could have charged a fortune as a whore and still had a line out the door, no matter her prices.

  The Siren of the Seven Seas, indeed.

  Although it remained to be seen if she was as deadly as she was beautiful.

  “Aye,” he acknowledged, dipping his head slightly. “And who are you?”

  “This is Blythe O’Malley,” Mack said cheerfully, confirming her identity as Bonny Blythe. He would. Mack was one of those who wanted to be able to bring a woman on board the ship when it suited him. Jake had always voted against. He could tell his twin already knew the winds were changing.

  “No women on board!” Nate repeated stubbornly, glaring at Mack. “No matter who she be. We voted.”

  “I say we vote again,” Big John interjected, causing a ripple through the crew when they realized who was challenging Nate. Jake couldn’t remember if Big John had ever demanded a vote or spoken for a side when one was held. “Bonny Blythe tain’t no normal woman.”

  There was a murmur of agreement through the rest of the crew members, and Jake held up his hand to stall any further outbursts. Rather than looking at his men, he looked at Blythe.

  “What can we do for you, lass?” he asked.

  “I want to join your crew.”

  The crew in question exploded in shouts at her words, descending into chaos. Usually, the crew was about split when it came to the question of a woman on board. Jake couldn’t tell if the superstitions around this particular woman changed anything because it was too hard to make out what anyone was saying. He could barely hear himself think.

  He held up his hand aga
in, and it took about a minute, but the crew finally fell mostly silent. A few grumbles were to be expected.

  Rubbing his scar, Jake looked at the sky for a moment, then back at her. This was either going to be a major complication or a blessing, and he couldn’t tell which. Still, a man didn’t become a pirate without enjoying some risks.

  “Miss O’Malley—”

  “Mrs.,” she interrupted, correcting him. “But I prefer Blythe.”

  “Well, Blythe, let’s speak privately, where you can make your case to me, then the crew will have to take a vote.” He looked at Big John and Nate. “Gather the men. After we vote, we sail, with or without Bonny Blythe.” Jerking his head at Mack to join him, he turned back toward his cabin.

  Chapter 3

  Blythe

  She wasn’t surprised by Captain Jake’s request.

  Some crews took to her immediately, others wanted nothing to do with her, and some—like the Rawbone—were divided. And no matter how the crews felt, a lot of the captains were wary about taking a woman on board. Others wanted something else from her. She couldn’t tell which category Captain Jake fell into.

  Most of the time, she turned down those who wanted something else. Sometimes she didn’t, mostly when the captain had something in particular she wanted.

  Captain Jake met that qualification. For the first time since her husband died, she was almost looking forward to earning her place on the ship. Mack stepped into the captain’s quarters behind her, closing the door, and the whore’s words ran through her mind.