But it didn’t matter, because in that moment, I was in the heart of the iceberg, and all I found was passion.
Our rhythm lost its sedateness, straining toward a frenzy to mate. To dominate.
His pace picked up, bruising me in all new ways. “Fuck, I want to come.”
My neck arched, rising off the mattress. “Then come.” Searing pleasure split me in two as he drove explicitly hard.
A gleam of masculine smugness filled his eyes, knowing he had me completely in his control, completely submitting.
He groaned as my core rippled around his cock.
Then, he lost it.
His lips descended fast and hard on mine as his hips surged upward, driving my spine deeper into the mattress.
My mouth popped open as every nerve-ending zeroed to my womb, to the melting liquid coating Jethro as he claimed me.
Then, pain.
Glorious, furious, mind-numbing pain as he thrust harder and harder, faster and faster.
Every inch I screamed with agony. He was too big, too long, too damn much. Even with the slow acclimatization and gentle welcome, I wasn’t wide enough, long enough, prepared enough.
I cried out as he drove never-endingly into me.
There were no more walls, no more locks or secrets. This was him. Caught up in lust—both sexual and savage. He gave me what I wanted. He gave me himself with nothing hidden.
His lips opened beneath mine as he thrust again, hitting the entrance of my womb. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. His incessant need to take never ceased, his kisses never stopped.
Sweat sprinkled my skin as he drugged me body and soul. The room fogged with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and heavy breathing.
But then, the pain disappeared, switching into exquisite pleasure.
My body deliquesced, adjusting to his huge invasion.
My hips arched to meet his.
His heart thundered against mine.
We drove again and again and again, our grunts and moans and groans plaiting into one angry battle.
I scraped my fingernails down his back, grabbing his behind, driving him harder still.
I didn’t think I’d survive it. I worried we’d end up killing each other before we finished.
The pleasure was too much!
The dark promise of finding a satisfying ending seemed an impossible task.
A curling, unfolding orgasm barrelled from nowhere. I tensed, moaning beneath his invasion.
My legs stiffened as he took me ruthlessly, never stopping his angry thrusting.
I couldn’t control my body. I didn’t want to.
With a scream, I came so fucking hard I almost passed out with vertigo. Ecstatic spasms of bliss undid my world as surely as threads from gossamer. My mind fluttered like a flimsy ghost, deprived of its old home—decimated by euphoria.
The room swam. I felt sick and overjoyed and ruined.
Jethro cupped my throat, linking his fingers through my diamond collar as his eyes shot black. His jaw locked as he witnessed me falling apart. I held his gaze, even though I wanted to look away and hide just how shattered I was.
I was possessed, enraptured.
Another wave of paradise shuddered through my core, making me jerk with spent muscles.
Jethro didn’t stop. The minute my pussy stopped clenching around him, he gave himself permission to follow. I moaned as his hips pounded unforgivingly into mine, punishing me with heavenly corruption.
The tip of his cock hit the top of me with every lunge, bruising me, ensuring I would feel the ache of his possession for days afterward.
With every thrust, he grew in size, throbbing hotter, thicker, harder, driving toward the finish he craved. His face etched with danger, his eyes positively beastly. His self-control was non-existent as he hurled himself over the edge.
He orgasmed with a primitive snarl of feral ecstasy, his release splintering him into pieces.
“Shit, shit, shit!” His voice echoed with ferocity and vulnerability at coming completely undone. Pulling out, he grabbed the base of his cock and fisted himself as ribbons of white liquid shot through the air and splattered against my pubic hair and lower belly.
His stomach rippled as spurt after spurt drained him, marking me with musky threads of semen.
Breathing hard, he looked down at the mess he’d made—the evidence of our betrayal to hatred, family, and debts.
We couldn’t deny what’d just happened.
It wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t just lust.
It was something more.
I expected him to leave. To hate me.
But he folded over me, planting his slippery cock against my belly, smearing the now translucent mess until we stuck uncomfortably together.
My core cramped and trembled from such abuse, but I’d never felt so languid or tranquil.
Slowly, hesitantly, I brushed my lips across his, comforting him.
He didn’t say a word, nor did he kiss me back. His head fell forward, nuzzling his damp face into the curve of my neck.
I froze as his strong arms wrapped around me, crushing me against him.
Tears raced into being as my heart twisted and pulverised. I couldn’t handle him holding me like that—especially after what’d happened. I needed him to be cool and aloof if I had any chance at keeping my soul in one piece.
Liar.
It was already shredded, like shards in a breeze.
Jethro’s heart hammered against mine, beating hard, slowing its drumming the longer he held me.
We stayed like that for a long time. Too long. Both of us acknowledging wordlessly what we would never be able to do with conversation.
We were stripped. Naked. Exposed.
Woefully defenceless against each other.
With every second that passed, I tried to repair the damage he’d done. I felt him trying to do the same, gathering the pieces of his façade, gluing them unsuccessfully back into place.
Moment by moment, our connection drifted, slipping us further and further away.
My skin turned to goosebumps, exchanging sweaty lust for aftermath regret.
Finally, Jethro pulled away, climbing off me, tainting any illusion of togetherness. Not making eye contact, he whispered, “What just happened can never happen again. If it does, they’ll see the truth, and I won’t have any power to keep you.”
His powerful neck convulsed as he swallowed. “We’re fucked, Nila Weaver. Well and truly fucked.”
GODDAMMIT.
I needed to get out of there.
I needed to fix myself, find my ice.
I need to destroy the camera footage.
No one must know. No one.
Not looking at Nila, I grabbed my jeans off the floor and jerked them on. I couldn’t get a grip on my breathing. Everything inside me had switched upside down, and just the thought of walking away from her, after something so life changing, brought me to my fucking knees.