I pass Smee who is finally paying attention and skirting Blackbeard’s Cay. I want the entire island talking about the Jolly Roger before we drop anchor. Though I’m not too invested in my own legend anymore, I’m keen for everyone to take a lesson from what happened to Anne. To fuck with the crew of the Jolly Roger is a suicide mission, one I’ll happily assist with if there’s anyone foolhardy enough to try it.
Epilogue II
MOIRA
“Idon’t think I’m going to fit into this dress after I ate that entire loaf of breadandthe beef stew.” I hold my breath as Widow pulls on the stays.
“You’ll fit just fine.” She wrestles the corset into submission. “Am I being too rough? Are you all right?”
“I’m good.” I look down at the stitches on my chest. “If you collapse my lung again, though, I think Hook might actually keel-haul you.”
She shudders. “Ugh. I’ll be more careful.”
Once she has it laced up, I step back and look at myself in the mirror. “How do you wear these things all the time?” I smooth my hands down the top.
“I love them. Keeps me interesting.” She turns me around, then rubs something along my lips. “Now, look.”
I turn back to the mirror. “I look … spicy.” I smile at myself.
“You look like a pirate queen.” She fusses with my wings. “These aren’t bound up, are they?”
“No.” I wiggle them. “They’re perfect.”
“You can move and get to your knife?” She pulls at the high slit up my thigh, the crimson fabric parting scandalously at each hip.
I reach down and grab my knife, then slide it into its sheath on my garter. “All good.”
“Well, my work here is done. Now go on up. I’m going to get ready and meet Starkey to row over.”
“You two getting serious?” I tease.
“Absolutely not.” She shoos me from her room.
“There’s my princess!” Cookson calls as I pass the galley.
He puts a smile on my face, and I climb to the upper deck. The light breeze rustles through my hair and tickles my wings.
When I look up at the wheel, my breath catches. Hook stands there, his gaze boring into me. He wears a crimson jacket, white tunic, and black leather pants that fit him so well it makes my mouth water.
He takes two steps, grabs onto the upper rail, propels himself over, and jumps down to the lower deck.
Before I can even react, he grabs me in his arms and kisses me hard, bending me backward as his hands rove down to the slits in my skirt. A growl rumbles through him, and he yanks me up, wrapping my legs around him as he carries me into our cabin.
Slamming the door behind him, he sits me on the desk and yanks my skirt up.
“Where are your panties, lass?” He meets my gaze as his hands go to his belt.
“I didn’t realize panties were required for a pirate ball. I guess I should go get a pair—” I start to scoot off the table, and he grabs my throat.
“No, lass. You’re right. Pantiesaren’trequired.” He grazes my lips with his, then presses his cock head at my opening.
With a hard thrust, he seats himself inside me, and I gasp as he yanks my hips forward, pinning me to the edge of the table.
“But you’ll have to pay the price if you go around flaunting that hot cunt in front of me.”
“Filthy.” I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him as he pistons inside me, his cock hitting me in all the right places.
With a harsh movement, he pulls out, then he’s flipping me over, pressing me down onto the table.
