“Hello Leon,” Cora greeted.
“Good evening, Ms. Harris. Captain. May I take your coats?”
James helped Cora out of hers before shrugging out of his. The man took both in soft, pale hands.
Cora smiled at him. “Thank you. Where are my parents?”
“Your mother is in the parlor, Miss. Your father is in his study. Shall I get him?”
Cora shook her head. “It’s fine. We’ll find them.”
She thanked him again and started to the right of the sprawling foyer.
The lobby opened to a grand stairway that looped up to the second floor and three arched doorways in all four corners, not including the exit. Each one opened to a sprawling room draped in mute, homey tones and dark wood. Everything screamed professional, sophisticated, classy, but warm, confident, and loving. Definitely not the sort of place a monster should call home.
James had never owned a home. His parents never had either. They couldn’t afford to. But when they were gone, and even after he could have settled down anywhere in the world, James had never even considered the idea. He lived on his ship, year-round, anywhere in the world he wanted. Having a home on land had become irrelevant.
But he walked through Cora’s, taking in the tastefully hung pieces of art, the neat bleed of colors melting into each other to create different feels with every new room they passed, and tried to imagine her there as a child. Somehow, he couldn’t. It wasn’t a place for children. There were too many sharp corners, too much clean, too many expensive things that could be broken. Unless the place had been redone once Cora got older, but he doubted that.
He was taken to a parlor with bookshelves for walls and a mahogany set up surrounding an antique fireplace. A bar in glossy onyx was built into the opposite wall and mirrored the sophisticated, but powerful leather and dark wood motif. It complimented the red afghan draped the length of the room.
The house of a predator.
“Cora.”
Elise rose from her place on the sofa, her movements graceful and agile. Her baby pink skirts rustled against the soft leather. The color reminded James of Cora’s ass after a spanking. It pulled an unwarranted grin from him.
“Captain?”
He quickly jerked his gaze away from her legs and focused on her face.
“Thank you for having us, Ms. Harris.”
Elise smiled as she drew closer. “Elise, please.” She pivoted her gaze to her daughter. “Everything all right? You seem a bit ... flushed.”
James bit the inside of his cheek.
“The car was warm,” Cora mumbled.
Elise hummed, but made no further attempts to prod. “Come sit. Your father’s just finishing up some paperwork and Sal should be here shortly—”
“Uncle Sal’s coming?” Cora interrupted.
“Of course. The entire family has been calling me almost every day wanting to know when they can see you.” She picked her way around the glass coffee table to her spot. “But your father has had everyone under strict orders to wait until you were situated before bombarding you.”
Cora took the sofa opposite her mother and sat, her small hands running under her backside to smooth her skirt before her ass touched the leather. James frowned, but said nothing as he joined her.
“How is everyone?” she asked.
Elise gave a dainty little shrug. “Worried. Relieved. Anxious. They all really want to see you, which is why I was thinking of throwing a little party, family, close friends only. A ... welcome home, type of thing. Maybe even an engagement...?” she hedged slowly, lips curled in a little grimace.
“Mom.” Cora chuckled. “You can’t have an engagement party after you’re already married.”
Elise frowned. “Says who? Besides, you don’t honestly think this is how I’m expected to accept this, do you? I want a wedding!”
Cora shifted. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth.
“I don’t know if that’s—”
“It’s a great idea,” James cut in.
Both women turned to him as if just remembering he was there.
“Really?” Both said on unison.
James shrugged. “Can’t deprive your mom of a wedding, can we?”
Elise squealed, delighted. Her tiny hands clapped once before bunching together in her excitement.
“This is wonderful!” She bounced to her feet. “I’m going to go grab your father, or he’ll just stay in that office the rest of the night.”
Her heels cracked in hurried sprints out the door. They heard it echoing off the walls in the corridor and fading the further she went.
Cora started turning to him. “Are you sure—?”
James swooped off the cushion before Cora could finish speaking. He went on one knee in front of her and pried her thighs apart.
“James!”
Her horrified gasp went ignored as he yanked her to him, yanked her forward on the very edge of the sofa. Her legs were thrown over the crooks of his arms.
“Lift your skirt.”
“You can’t ... not here...”
He flipped her skirt up over her stomach himself, exposing the lacy panties and her beautifully swollen sex. One bent finger dragged the material aside, opening her to the mouth he immediately closed over her clit and the fingers he hooked inside her.
“Yes!”
Cora’s head dropped back with a half sob, half groan. Her back arched as he devoured her, as he lashed his tongue inside her and cleaned her walls. He made a mess of her already soppy core, soaking her with his saliva and her own fluids. He sucked and fingered her right until the very last second, right before her thighs stiffened on either side of his head.
He stopped and pulled back to watch the erratic flutter of her pussy as it struggled to come and couldn’t. Her slit leaked in a clear, sticky trickle over the tight pucker of her ass and pooled in the leather beneath her.
He touched it, just one fingertip pressing lightly against her back entrance. He circled it, smearing it with moisture.
“Jesus...” Her emotional wail was muffled behind the hands she mashed into her face. “I can’t ... I can’t take this anymore.”
“You can.” He followed the thin patch of skin joining anus to vagina and sank back inside her. Just one finger this time. “You don’t have a choice.”
Finger glistening, he lifted it to her lips and let her suck it clean.
Only then did he regain his spot on the sofa, leaving her to right herself, to drag her skirt back around her trembling thighs. She grimaced as she shifted to a proper position.
“My seat is all wet.”
He caught her wrist when she reached for a Kleenex from the box on the end table next to her.
“Leave it.”
Her pulse jumped beneath his fingertips. Her cheeks turned scarlet, mirroring the irregular strain of her breasts rising and falling against the front of her dress.
“You’re a sick...”
He raised an eyebrow. “Fuck? Bastard? Lover?” He skimmed a hardened nipple with the pad of his thumb, making her lashes flutter. “I’ve been called worse.”
She never got the chance to reply when Elise returned with De Marco in tow.
James rose, a show of respect to her, but inclined his head once to the other man.
“Mr. De Marco.”
“Captain.” De Marco took the spot next to his wife, across from James and Cora. His gaze shifted to his daughter. “Are you sick?”
“I’m just warm,” Cora mumbled, sitting a bit too stiffly.
“Are you sure?” James prompted darkly, toying with her by scooting closer until their shoulders bumped.
One hand slipped around the back of her waist while the other lifted to touch her face lightly with his knuckles. The skin felt scalding hot where the blood blazed the brightest in her cheek, but it was nothing compared to the warning in her eyes.
He met it with a subtle slip of his palm over her hips, along the curve of her ass to glide beneath the fa
bric of her bunched skirt.
Her eyes widened in horror, but his finger had already slithered into the crack of her ass.
“Cora?” he prompted, circling her back entrance.
He added just a touch of pressure.
“Fine!” she blurted. “I’m fine.” Breathing hard, she quickly faced her parents. “Are ... are we having drinks before ... before ... before...?”
“Supper?” he supplied huskily, rubbing her lightly.
She swallowed audibly, but said nothing.
She wouldn’t.
What could she possibly say?
That he was fingering her ass?
That she was leaving a stain on the rich leather?
That he’d eaten her pussy and nearly made her come right where she sat?
No.
She wasn’t going to say anything.
“I can make drinks,” Elise volunteered. “What would you like, Captain?”
“Scotch, please.”
He lowered the hand off Cora’s cheek and set it on her bare thigh. The skin beneath his touch vibrated. The muscles coiled.
The woman herself never looked at him. Not even when he gave the supple flesh a squeeze. But her breath hitched. Barely.
“Captain.” De Marco drew James’s attention away from his brutalizing. “Have you given anymore consideration to what we talked about?”
James pretended to deliberate the question while he delved a little deeper under Cora until he could hook the first bend in his finger inside her.
She sucked in a breath that flared her nostrils.
“I did and, unfortunately, I must decline.”
Elise arrived with drinks.
James freed his hands to accept his. He didn’t miss the slump of Cora’s body in relief.
“No shop talk.” The woman passed Cora a martini and De Marco a whiskey. She held a champagne for herself as she sat. “I want to talk about the wedding.”
De Marco raised an eyebrow. “Have we decided to have one?” He took a sip, his eyes arrogant over the rim. “That’s a good start.”
“I want it here,” Elise went on. “In the gardens. A winter wedding will be gorgeous.” She sighed into her drink, hazel pools sparkling. “That could be our theme. Fire and ice. Fire for the engagement. Ice for the wedding.”
“That sounds nice,” Cora rasped.
“Unless you’ve changed your mind,” De Marco cut in. “It’s not too late.”
“Dad, please...”
The man put up the hand not holding his drink. “You can’t blame me for not exactly being thrilled to officially welcome him into the family.”
“He’s not...” Cora pulled in a deep breath that lifted her shoulders. “I want to stay. That is my choice.”
De Marco looked no less convinced that James was the devil himself. “I still think you should let me kill him.”
“Gio!”
“Bigger, stronger, scarier men have tried.” James set his untouched drink down. “You’re welcome to give it your best shot.”
“James!” Cora rounded on him.
Neither men pulled their stare away first. Not even when a fifth figure stepped into the room.
Sylvester De Marco sauntered into the parlor with the swagger of a bonafide mobster. Taller, leaner, and more angular than his brother, Sylvester radiated with a coldness that could have shamed the coldest winter. It swept off him, sucking up all the heat from the room.
But only James seemed to notice. Cora had never looked so delighted as she opened her arms to the man’s embrace. He had to step around James’s feet and bend at the waist to accept it, but Sylvester beamed as he crushed her to him.
“Hey kid.” He mashed a hard kiss to the top of her head. “Missed seeing your face.”
Cora sniffled, her smile wet. But she said nothing.
Sylvester drew back, careful not to trip on the coffee table or James’s feet.
“Sal, this is Captain James Crow,” De Marco introduce with an air of superiority that did not go unnoticed.
James rose, hand extended. His manners momentarily blinded him to the right hook that caught him completely unaware. It cracked against his jaw, a vicious blow that snapped his teeth together and filled his mouth with copper.
Raw fury rolled up his spine even as James straightened. Knuckles popped as all ten fingers curled at his sides. He raised his chin and fixed the other man with a venomous stare.
“That one was free.”
Thin lips twisted into a cold sneer. “I’ve heard all about you, Captain.” He spat the word, captain as though it were something foul in his mouth. “And I’m not scared.”
James allowed one corner of his mouth to lift. “You should be with a hook like that. Cora hits harder than you do.”
Sylvester smirked. “Yeah? Who do you think taught her?”
James hummed. “It must be one of those student surpassing teacher things.”
“Uncle.” Cora appeared between them, one hand extended to her uncle, the other pressing against the James’s chest. “Please.”
“Don’t please me, kid. I should take him out back and bury him in the roses.”
“Under,” James corrected smoothly. “I’m not Thumbelina.”
The other man’s eyes flashed a mutinous gold. “What did you say to me?”
Cora turned her chin over her shoulder, her eyes pleading. “James, please.”
Without answering her, James set his hands gently on her waist and nudged her to one side, leaving nothing between him and the man staring down the length of his slightly crooked nose at him.
“It’s purely out of respect for Elise that I don’t stain the carpets with your blood,” James told him firmly. “Next time you decide to sucker punch a guy, make sure he’s not offering you a hand. It’s weak and cowardly.”
“Gentlemen.” Elise appeared at Sylvester’s shoulder. Her pale hand seemed tiny settling on her brother in law’s arm. “Let’s not do this, hmm? Come. Dinner’s ready. Let’s eat and forget about this.”
She forcibly turned Sylvester and propelled him towards the door. She motioned for De Marco to follow before turning to James, her soft eyes assessing his face.
“I am so sorry,” she murmured. “Can I get you some ice?”
James shook his head. “Thank you.”
She continued to struggle with that for a moment before turning and following the other two from the room.
“James.” Cora stepped in front of him, her eyes filled with more concern than he’d ever seen anyone wear for him. “Let me see.”
Her fingers were cool brushing his face. They lightly drew him closer. The thumb grazed his bottom lips, taking away a droplet of blood.
She winced. “God, James.” Her hands slipped away from his face to cover hers. “This is a disaster.” Her hands lowered and she peered up at him, crestfallen. “I’m going to talk to Mom. I’ll convince her this whole engagement, wedding idea is a bad one and—”
“No.”
Her forehead creased in a clear assessment of his mental health. “That was my uncle. Can you imagine being in a room full of over fifty of my very nearest and dearest relatives? God, you and your mouth would get murdered.”
James lifted an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with my mouth?”
“You can’t stop goading!” she exclaimed. “You are incapable of not making a snide remark that will eventually get you killed.”
James considered that. He skimmed a tongue along his bottom lip, tasting blood as he studied her curiously.
“Would that be bad?”
Cora faltered. “What?”
“If I get killed, you will be free of me.”
She said nothing.
Something in him tightened at her silence. The only way to loosen it was to step around her, away from those eyes.
“Come on, sweetheart, don’t tell me you forgot you were supposed to hate me.”
Cora turned with him on the heel of her shoe. “I haven’t. I honestly don’t car
e if you ... if you die, but I happen to enjoy fucking you. It’s the only thing I actually like about you.”
He hummed quietly. “Is that all?”
She folded her arms. “Of course.”
“Just my cock, huh?”
She gave a fierce bob of her head. “Just your cock.”
He reached for her and dragged her into his chest. “Good. He happens to like you, too.”
Her face broke into a grin that ended in a laugh.
“What?”
She pulled away from him. “Now that we’ve established the approval of our genitalia, we should probably find the others.”
Her long strides carried her halfway to the door before he caught up to her. His fingers hooked into the swirling hem of her skirt and he tugged her to a stop.
“James.”
His answer was the trail of his fingertips up the supple curve where the back of her thigh met the rise of her ass cheek.
Cora sucked in a breath. “You know, this is becoming very unfair. How would you feel if I kept getting you hard and then...?”
She trailed off when the same finger caught into the material of her panties, the scrap of fabric stretching between her legs and pulled it away from her skin.
“You always get me hard,” he drawled into her ear. “I look at you and all I think about is being inside you.”
Her breath stuttered in her chest. He wasn’t sure if it was from his words or the panties slipping between her lips to press against her clit. He didn’t ask.
“Walk.”
Misty eyes lifted and found his. “What?”
“Walk,” he repeated, louder in case she missed it again.
She ran a tongue over her lips, momentarily distracting him. “But you—”
“Unless you’re offering me your butt, stop butting me.”
Cora giggled. “You’re holding my panties.”
“I know.” He gave a teasing little jerk that wiped the grin off her face and replaced it with a perfect O of her mouth. “Now, walk.”
She did.
She put one foot in front of the other. She only got three steps before the material caught and pulled against her. She staggered to a stop with a sharp gasp.
James joined her side and brushed his nose against her ear. “I didn’t tell you to stop.”
Blood Script Page 28
