Then a drawn out keen of welcome vibrated in her chest.
My eyes snapped shut as her body gave in to me, stretching, inviting.
Fuck.
My hands fisted harder in her hair. The foreplay had drained us of everything. This would be hard, fast—bloodthirsty.
“I’m going to fuck you now, Nila.”
“Yes.” Her fingernails sliced deeper into my lower back as I thrust into her. I rammed inside over and over, balls-deep and buried. I wasn’t just fucking her body but her mind and soul, too.
She let me in everywhere.
She dropped everything, letting me bulldoze through her defences.
My heart bucked at the preciousness of what I held—the gift in which she gave. It fucking tore my innards out and turned me hollow.
The connection was too acute. Physically, spiritually. I’d never wanted to belong…always been an outcast and outsider, but between the legs of my Weaver Whore, I found….redemption, salvation.
She clamped around me, dragging a ragged groan from my chest. I ground my hips harder, deeper, faster.
We locked eyes.
I shouted at her silently.
Cursed her wordlessly.
You feel me inside you?
You feel me claiming you?
You feel me destroying you?
My muscles went rigid as her eyes recognised my message and shot one of their own.
You feel me around you?
You feel me undermining you?
You feel me making you care?
I slammed forward, drawing a primitive sound from her. “God, you—you feel…”
“What? What do you feel?” I growled.
“Good. Too good. I need—I need to come.”
You and me both.
I couldn’t do this anymore. I needed it over, so I could run and hide. So I could fix everything that was wrong with me. So I could find the man I’d been for fifteen fucking long years.
She made a helpless sound of need, grinding herself on my cock. We dripped with sweat, our skin slipping and slicking against each other, our lungs desperate for air.
Tightening my hold on her hair, I increased my rhythm. Nailing her to the bed, I fucked with wild savagery.
Her orgasm came from nowhere and with no warning. One second she rode me as hard as I rode her, the next she went stiff and taut. Her mouth fell wide. A moan that twisted my heart fell around us as her pussy fisted my cock with strength that tore me into pieces.
My own release percolated like a typhoon inside, howling and buffeting my every cell.
“Fuck.” Grabbing her hip, I tilted her body so she was angled for even deeper punishment.
Tears of delirium trickled from her eyes as I drove my cock further inside her. Her face squeezed tight as I hit the spot where I could go no further. Her body halted any deeper claiming.
The moment she finished coming, I couldn’t stop.
Pleasure surged through me with every thrust. I turned to stone as fiery release exploded from my balls and splashed inside her.
Fuck, pull out. Pull out.
Lurching upright, I wrapped my fingers around the base of my dick and fucked my own hand as I shot thread after thread of release onto her belly.
The second it was over, the guilt came back.
The fear.
The anger.
We were now doubly fucked, and I had no clue how to fix it.
Nila looked at her stomach, and in the boldest, sexiest move, ran her fingertip through my release and sucked it into her mouth.
Fuck. Me.
My entire body tingled.
“If sex with you is like that every time, I have a horrible feeling we’ll end up fucking each other into an early grave.”
An icy gust skittered down my spine. If only she knew how true that sentence was.
She had no clue what I would do to her the next time. She’d had me twice with only skin between us. The next time…shit, I couldn’t think about what I’d do without getting hard again.
The joy at what I planned trickled into my double-crossing heart, and I knew this was the beginning of the end.
We would keep on ruining each other.
We would keep on desecrating debts and vows.
And we would keep on fucking up our future until nothing but horror remained.
LIFE HAD TURNED from manic to surreal.
I still lived in a den of beasts, with fear around every corner and dread in my future, but my present had never felt so right.
I had obligations to talk to my father and brother before they appeared with guns blazing.
I had messages to reply to Kite.
I had bridges to mend with Kestrel.
But for some reason, I couldn’t bear to leave the insanely comfortable mattress of the Weaver quarters.
The ceiling above was obscured by the bolts of Persian material, and the scent of freshly spun fabric was the best air freshener I’d ever smelled.
I stretched, basking in the echoing pain of being used by Jethro once again.
He’d shown me how much passion was hidden beneath his wintry shell, and I knew he’d only just started to thaw. The thought of more sex, better sex, deeper, soul-blistering sex made me shiver in both excitement and nervousness. I meant what I said about killing ourselves with pleasure. I didn’t think I could stand much more. But nothing on earth would stop me from willingly walking to my demise if it meant I could take Jethro with me.
Don’t forget the plan.
I froze.
My goal of seducing him had worked. He’d changed and for some reason, had let me worm my way into his affections. But by letting me inside him, he’d stripped me of my defences. The moment when my body stretched around him, letting him take me fully, I’d felt something give inside. More than just an invitation or coy come-hither to destroy him—it had been real, and I’d had no willpower to stop him from invading.
You’re playing such a dangerous game.
My heart crawled up my throat at the thought of losing.
What can truly happen, though?
I already lived with a death sentence. So what if I died with a broken heart as well? It wouldn’t change my fate. It would only grant fullness to a life while it was still mine to enjoy.
Common sense didn’t like my conclusions, but I switched off my thoughts.
I rolled over, inhaling the scent of his woodland leather from the pillow he’d rested upon.
After we’d crashed back to earth, he’d spent an hour just lying there. Regrouping or thinking or just being himself…once he’d gathered his façade, he’d wordlessly disappeared and not come back.
All my belongings had already been transferred, and I noticed my phone, recharged and no longer in pieces, blinking with incoming mail on the duck-egg-blue bedside table.
Not only had Jethro given me my phone, but he’d left it on and waiting for me to use.