#LiveYourRomance | Thalassophile In Blood Script
How easily his eyes could make her forget that he was her captor.
Not her savior.
I had fun writing BLOOD SCRIPT. Maybe too much fun. James Crow knew all the right things to say to keep my keys on the keyboard. 😜 If you’ve grabbed your copy, you know exactly what I’m talking about. If you haven’t, I highly recommend a night with a pirate in your bed, or sofa, or wherever you like to cuddle up and read. My personal favorite is on a porch swing with a throw and a cup of hot chocolate. 😊
Seriously, where’s your favorite reading space?
So, in case you were curious about the title (or maybe you hadn’t noticed. No judgment), but Thalassophile means someone who loves the sea, which, for a sea captain seems like the most obvious title choice … right? I’ve also found this Youtube video pronouncing the word, in case you were interested.
Also, never let it be said that I never gave you weird and random information, or that my title choices aren’t fitting.
A lot of ups and downs went into writing Blood Script. There were a lot of changes, rewrites, re-covers, re-titles. What a nightmare. But ultimately, I have to honestly say that I really love the end results. James and Cora were so dysfunctional, stubborn, and snarky that they matched perfectly, which is why I think it took so long to get them just right on paper.
When I was going through the questions you guys asked, I noticed there weren’t very many, but the one that was asked the most was about James’s revenge process, so, let’s talk about that.
Blood Script Most Asked Question
The idea of revenge, particularly in movies, seem so simple. We see the making of the plan and a lot of explosions and deaths until it’s just the hero and the villain facing off. In the end, the hero wins and everyone lives happily ever after.
Considering that James and Giovanni De Marco are both clan leaders of their respective organizations, it’s not entirely so cut and dry. James can’t just march in, kill Giovanni, and go home. There’s a process, a ladder. Gio is as heavily guarded as James is. His men wouldn’t simply let James waltz in and take out their employer. But yes, James would have absolutely had his revenge one way or another. 😉
BLOOD SCRIPT
©2017 by Airicka Phoenix
All rights reserved.
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Her fingers reached to touch the neat interlocking series of hearts forming a delicate chain he held out to her. The light sparkled off the cluster of tiny diamonds hugging the curves and fell on the only charm hanging off the end, a tiny anchor shaped in a J.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, mesmerized by its beauty. “It’s gorgeous.”
“It’s yours,” he said. “But I want something in return.”
Cora looked past the gift to the man watching her, eyes dark and hungry.
“What?”
She found herself forced against the wall with his mouth a demanding lock over hers. His tongue tasted of cool mint when it invaded. The flavor had her taste buds tingling and her fingers reach up to close in his hair. She gripped him to her as he kissed her with a raw vengeance that was more punishing than romantic.
But she accepted it.
Needed it.
She opened to him.
Relinquished all for him.
She was so lost that she didn’t react right away when his free hand snapped open her jeans, when it slipped inside until his fingers were forcing apart her lips.
“James…?”
His name faded into a welcoming sigh with the first invasion of his fingers. Two sank inside her to the knuckle.
Cora responded by opening her legs wider and rolling her hips into his palm. Her eyes closed and her head dropped back against the wall with a dull thud.
“I need your come,” he murmured into her ear. “I need it on my fingers. Come for me, Cora.”
It took the assault of his thumb grinding into her clit, but she came with a choked little whimper and a rush of heat that he pumped all over his fingers.
Soaking them.
Coating them.
He caught her when the removal of his hand had her sagging. He held her against him, the knee he wedged between her trembling thighs, and the wall.
“Look at me.”
She forced her eyes open, forced them to find his face and stick.
Fingers wet with her release were brought to her mouth, a mouth that automatically opened. But he had no interest in that. The tips were used to paint her lips, coat them glossy with her own juices. Once he was satisfied he’d done a proper job, he slipped them into her mouth to suck clean.
“You can have the bracelet,” he told her. “But only if you return wearing your own taste on your lips. I want to lick it off when I see you.”
Cora sucked in a breath. “All day? What … what if I drink, or—”
“Reapply, as often as necessary, but I want to know how many times you fingered yourself.”
“Jesus…” She stared at him, horrified, and turned on to the point of pure madness. “You’re so twisted.”
“Am I?” His eyes glittered darkly. “Then why are you getting wet?”
She was wet, or at least, wetter. She was almost certain it would start leaking through her jeans.
“You’re turning me into a pervert,” she decided, painfully conscious of the slippery state of her lips with every word.
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