He watches her as she crosses the sand, all bare and lithe; his own gaze is soft and hungry. But then she’s on him, in his lap again, and as she rocks her hips against him, he puts his arms around her.
“I think it must be lonely in any hammock. These men, though, I don’t think most of them have anybody.”
He suspects that a few of the pirates might be like a few men in the Watch: they seem to have each other. But he doesn’t wish to be sure of it.
After a long look, he kisses her again, a kiss like a starving man, then adds, “I love the sight of you.”
I wonder how the whale feels about the fact that it’s now a sex whale.
“I think it must be lonely in any hammock. These men, though, I don’t think most of them have anybody.”
He suspects that a few of the pirates might be like a few men in the Watch: they seem to have each other. But he doesn’t wish to be sure of it.
After a long look, he kisses her again, a kiss like a starving man, then adds, “I love the sight of you.”