23. Cora
Chapter twenty-three
Cora
L ooking at my reflection in the mirror, I can’t stop smiling. It’s foreign, almost strange, to be this excited about a date. A real date. The kind where you’re wined and dined, and the banter is flirtatious and fun. My conversations these past few years have mainly featured phrases like “Put your shoes on, Leo” and “Take that out of your mouth, please.” I chuckle, shaking my head. I once caught Leo trying to eat dirt from one of my indoor plants when he was younger.
But this—tonight—is different. It’s been so long since I’ve been on a proper date that my hands tremble as I rummage through my wardrobe, looking for the perfect outfit to knock James’s socks off.
I’ve spent way too much time on my hair and makeup, carefully recreating the sultry look from Eden. My long hair flows down my back in soft waves, and the eyeliner frames my eyes just right.
It’s been a while since I’ve felt like this—alive, desirable, more than just a mom with a to-do list a mile long. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be seen as a woman, to be looked at the way James looks at me. There’s a glint in his eyes that awakens an unfiltered need. Dangerous. Addictive. And I’m not sure how to balance that with everything else.
As I apply my lipstick, my complicated feelings for James resurface. There’s no denying we have an intense sexual connection, but beyond that, what else is there? Do we have anything in common other than the fact that we share a child?
I hate that I’m even asking myself these questions. It’s not like I have room for complications right now, not with everything I’ve got on my plate. But James… he’s not just another guy. I can’t ignore the pull between us, no matter how hard I try. And that’s what scares me the most—letting him in. Letting him see the parts of me I’ve kept hidden. What if I let him too close, only to get burned in the end?
The questions grip me, and my hand falters, leaving a smudge of lipstick on my cheek. I quickly wipe it away, but the thought remains, heavier than before.
Then there’s the elephant in the room—Malta. Leo. How do I even bring that up? Hey, have you ever been to Europe? Oh, you have? That’s great! Fun fact, I spent some time in Malta. Oh, you did too? Here’s a story: I hooked up with a ridiculously hot guy one night and got pregnant. Pretty sure that guy was you. Surprise!
The thought makes my insides clench. I can’t tell him tonight. I can’t risk seeing his face twist in shock, then maybe fall in regret. What if he doesn’t want kids? Or what if he freaks out about the scandal of it all and rejects Leo? I don’t want to face it—not tonight. I’m not ready to share Leo with anyone—not even his father. Not yet.
The sound of small footsteps makes me smile, and I turn just as Leo bounds into the room. His wide brown eyes light up when he sees me all made up.
“You look so purty, Momma.”
I grin, crouching down to plant a big kiss on his forehead, leaving a perfect lip print behind.
“Ew, gross!” Leo scrunches his nose, trying to wipe the lipstick away with the back of his hand.
“Go see what Grandpa’s up to,” I say, gently nudging him toward the door.
Once he’s gone, I slip into my black lace lingerie—a matching bra and panty set, complete with garter belt and stockings—which I haven’t worn in ages. It feels strange and exhilarating all at once. I pull on an emerald satin dress, which leaves just the right amount of cleavage on display, and slide into my stilettos. When I look in the mirror, I can’t help but do a little happy dance. I feel… beautiful. Alive.
Stepping into the living room, I do a dramatic twirl for Dad and Leo, who are lounging on the couch.
“Wow, you look stunning, darling.” Dad rises to give me a warm hug.
“Momma!” Leo adds, his little voice filled with awe.
I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in months. “Thanks, boys.”
Dad pulls back, holding me at arm’s length and looking me over with a soft smile. “Enjoy tonight. You deserve it. Don’t worry about anything.”
His words hit me harder than expected, making my throat tighten. I’ve been carrying such a big load these past few years—raising Leo, taking care of Dad through his illness, the financial stress. One night of freedom feels like a gift.
“Thanks, Dad. I’ll try.” I blink back the sudden tears threatening to spill and give them both a playful warning. “Alright, behave yourselves and don’t stay up too late.”
Leo giggles, and they both respond in unison, “We won’t!”
Their cheeky smiles make my heart swell, and I leave the house excited for the chance to be a woman for a few precious hours.
***
When the driver drops me off in front of James’s gated mansion, I suck in a quiet breath. This isn’t just a mansion—it’s an estate. The kind you only see in movies or magazines. The gates swing open, and a man in a black suit seated in a golf cart greets me, introducing himself as security. He escorts me up the long driveway, and as we approach the house, my jaw goes slack.
Venetian-inspired architecture. Manicured gardens. Expansive views of the harbor. It’s all stunning. Overwhelming, even. I’ve stepped into a world where I don’t quite fit—a world of privilege.
As we near the entrance of the villa, I spot James waiting for me. Our eyes meet, and my breath escapes in a rush. He looks incredible—dark jeans, a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showcasing his powerful forearms. His hair is slicked back, still damp from the shower, and the sight of him sends a flutter of nerves through me.
“Hey.” His smile is breathtaking as he reaches for my hand, helping me out of the cart. His eyes rake over me appreciatively. “You look gorgeous.”
I bite my lip, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. “Don’t sound so surprised,” I tease.
“Not surprised. Just impressed.” He keeps my hand in his as we walk toward the villa. “Want a tour?” he asks, amusement dancing in his eyes.
“Oh my God, yes! This place is insane,” I reply, glancing around in awe.
James guides me around the estate, and I’m not sure what impresses me more—the grandeur of his home or the way he seems genuinely relaxed, like the weight he carries day in and day out has lightened. As we stroll through the lavish rooms, our hands remain clasped, his thumb brushing over mine in a way that feels intimate, natural. I steal glances at him, marveling at the softer side he’s letting me see. This isn’t the cold, guarded man I’ve gotten used to. This is someone else—someone kinder, more open, yet still exuding that undeniable dominance. This is my stranger from Malta.
The tour ends in the courtyard, where a table has been set up under the stars. The soft glow of candles casts a warm light over the scene, and I’m struck by how beautiful it all is.
“I didn’t know what you’d like, so I had the chef prepare a little of everything.” James gestures to the table overflowing with food from seemingly every cuisine.
I let out a soft laugh. “Wow, you weren’t kidding. It looks delicious, but I’m not sure how much you think I can eat.”
He grins as we take our seats and pours us both a glass of wine.
The conversation starts light, flowing effortlessly. Until James asks, “So, tell me about your family. The Rossi clan?”
I tense, trying not to show it. The question is innocent enough, but it touches on dangerous ground. I’m not ready for that yet.
“It’s just my dad and me,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “My mom passed away a few years ago. Car accident.” The words are easier to say now, but they still sting. “And Dad’s battling cancer, but he’s doing well. They caught it early.”
James leans forward, his fingers brushing mine. “That’s great news. I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been for you.” There’s a flicker in his eyes, a flash of pain.
I nod, offering a small smile. “Yeah. He’s strong.”
His hand retreats, and his jaw tightens slightly, almost imperceptibly. There’s a momentary shift in the air between us, like he’s somewhere else for a heartbeat. “What about you?” I ask.
He eases back into his chair, smiling, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ve got a younger sister and an adorable niece and nephew. My parents are obsessed with them. Can’t get enough.”
The warmth in his eyes returns, and for a second, the strain fades. The way he talks about his family makes my heart squeeze. There’s a tenderness there, a love that’s hard to miss.
We fall into easy conversation after that, talking about everything from our favorite foods to childhood memories—everything except the one thing looming between us: Leo. Malta. But that’s fine by me. I’m not ready to deal with that just yet.
By the time we’ve finished our second bottle of wine, the sexual tension has become distracting. My thoughts are no longer on the conversation but the way his gaze lingers on my lips.
Suddenly I’m standing, moving around the table to straddle him. His words trail off as I settle in his lap, my dress riding up to reveal my garter and stockings.
“Hey there.” His hands cradle the back of my head, pulling me closer.
“Hey yourself,” I whisper, our lips brushing.
There’s no need for more words. I press my lips to his, deepening the kiss as my hand works to undo his jeans. I trail kisses down his neck, tasting the salt of his skin, and he groans when I finally free his hardness from the confines of his jeans.
Not wanting to lose the heat of his body against mine, I slide my panties aside, my breath catching as I position myself over him. I don’t wait for a condom. I know it’s risky—considering what happened five years ago—but I can’t wait another second. I just want him, every inch, just us. The pill will have to be enough. With a slow inhale, I sink down onto him, the slick warmth of my body letting me take him all at once.
I rock against him, my hips moving instinctively, grinding down on his lap. The delicious stretch is all-consuming, and the feel of him buried deep is a sensation I’m becoming addicted to. I arch my back, leaning into the pleasure as his hands tighten on my waist, guiding my movements, controlling the rhythm.
“Fuck,” he groans. His fingers dig into my hips, pulling me down harder, faster, the need between us escalating.
I don’t care that we’re out in the open, the remnants of our dinner still spread across the table and his staff no doubt lingering in the shadows. Nothing matters except this. His touch is fire, and I’m burning alive for him.
His mouth finds mine again, the kiss deep and demanding. I moan into his lips, the pressure coiling tighter with every thrust. The steady slapping of our bodies coming together echoes in the night air. His hands slide up my thighs, brushing the garter straps, before one hand tangles in my hair, pulling me closer. He slaps my ass hard as I bounce on his cock and the sting of pain is exhilarating.
But it’s not enough. I need more.
I pull back, my breath hitching. “I need… deeper,” I whisper, thick with desperation.
He doesn’t hesitate. With a grunt, James stands, lifting me effortlessly as I cling to him, our bodies still locked together. In one swift motion, he sweeps his arm across the table, knocking plates and glasses to the ground in a clatter. The sound is jarring, but I hardly register it, too focused on the clenching in my core.
He lays me down on the edge of the table; his eyes predatory, as he looms over me. With a rough thrust, he hits a spot that has me gasping for air.
“Oh, fuck,” I cry out, trembling.
His jaw clenches, his hands gripping my thighs as he pounds into me, each thrust more powerful than the last. The heat in my core intensifies until it’s almost unbearable. I dig my nails into his forearms, holding on as the tide breaks.
My body convulses, and for the first time in my life, a gush of liquid releases from within me. My eyes squeeze shut and I let out a strangled moan, my entire body shaking with the force of my orgasm.
The wetness between us is undeniable, soaking my panties and his jeans, but I don’t care. All I can think about is how good it feels—how good he feels, filling me, claiming me.
James’s lips curl into a wicked grin as he thrusts even harder, driving into me with renewed strength. His breath is ragged, the muscles in his arms taut as he pushes us both toward the cliff.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he growls low and rough. “Mine. You’re mine.”
His words send another shockwave through me, and I tighten around him, strangling his cock. He’s relentless, his hips slamming into mine with a pace that has me on the verge of another climax. My hands grip the edge of the table, desperate for something to hold on to as he pushes me higher and higher.
“Come for me again,” he orders.
I bite my lip, trying to hold back, but it’s no use. My body obeys, shuddering as another orgasm rips through me, my pussy clenching around him in pulses. It’s too much, too tender, and I can barely breathe as I cry out his name, my voice hoarse.
James isn’t far behind. With one final, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside me, his body trembling as he finds his release. He throbs inside me, unloading, filling me up as he groans into my neck, his breath hot against my skin.
For a few moments, we stay like that—his body pressed against mine, our breathing labored, hearts racing. The world feels hazy, distant, as we come down from the high, still locked in the afterglow of the moment.
Slowly James pulls out, careful and gentle. The loss is immediate and a soft whimper escapes my lips at the emptiness left behind. His seed trickles out, and I reach for a napkin on the table to clean myself up, but his hand catches my wrist.
“No,” he barks. “Leave it.”
My eyes widen, but the look in his eyes has me frozen in place.
“I want you to feel it. To feel me ,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over my swollen clit, making me jolt. “I want you to feel my cum slowly drip down your thighs and be reminded of who owns this pussy.”
His words send tingles dancing across my skin, and I nod. My heart races again, a fresh wave of arousal washing over me, despite the fact that I’ve just come twice.
“I hope you recover quickly,” I say, breathless, my lips curling into a playful smile. “Because your pussy is hungry again.”
“Greedy little thing, isn’t she?” His eyes gleam, but beneath the shine, I can still see the lust lurking. “Your wish is my command.”
Without warning, he lifts me into his arms, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me inside. The smashed remnants of our dinner are forgotten, left behind in the courtyard, but I don’t care. All that matters is the feeling of James’s strong arms around me, the press of his lips against mine, the promise of more to come.
As we stumble into his bedroom, I laugh against his lips. For the rest of the night, we lose ourselves in each other, our fucking shifting from rough and frantic to softer, sweeter, almost reverent. We don’t stop until the early hours of the morning, when exhaustion finally catches up with us.
***
As dawn breaks, I slip out of James’s estate, my body sore in all the best ways, my heart still fluttering from the night we shared. But as I slide into the back of the taxi, the real world begins to worm back in. I rest my head against the cool window and watch the city rush past as we weave through the quiet streets. No matter how much I try to cling to the euphoria, there’s a quiet fear I can’t quite shake. James is dangerous—not just in the way he touches me, but in the way he makes me feel like I’m his. Like I could fall, and there’d be no coming back. Keeping him out of my heart is going to be harder than I thought. And I’m afraid it might be too late. I have to protect my heart from this man. Because he has the power to destroy it.
Utterly annihilate it.