I smiled, licking her harder.
“I won’t do it.”
I didn’t reply, only sucked her clit into my mouth.
She spasmed, shuddering uncontrollably.
“It all ends with one little word, Ms. Weaver.”
“I won’t. Not until you call me Nila.”
My tongue drove into her tight pussy; her muscles clenched viciously around me.
“How about a tr—truce?” Her voice strained as her legs stiffened, toes curling.
“A truce?”
“Two winners.”
I breathed hot, drenching her inner thighs with everything boiling inside me. “Fine.”
“You go first.”
I chuckled, so turned on with need, I rapidly lost the skill for conversation. “No chance. Beg.” I pressed my mouth and nose hard against her, inhaling deeply until my lungs were soaked with her smell.
“Jethro!”
My heart raced. My breathing made every word clipped and breathless. “Say it—put us both out of our misery.”
Her head twisted to the side, pressing her cheek against the sheets.
“Do it and I’ll do what you want. I’ll use your name. I’ll climb on top of you. I’ll spread your legs and drive my cock so deep and fast inside, you won’t be able to walk for a week.”
We both groaned at the mental image. Fuck, she better beg. Otherwise, she would win another round. I was two seconds away from taking her.
My impressive self-control—the same restraint that had protected me all my life—had disappeared.
Her hips churned as I dragged my tongue through her quivering pussy. “Beg, Ms. Weaver. Beg.” Her velvet skin against my tongue sent all thoughts of family and consequences far into the stratosphere.
I sucked her clit again, my ears straining for her to give in to me, but still she resisted.
I stuck my tongue deep, driving her toward an orgasm. Her cunt convulsed, milking my shallow penetration.
I groaned. Sweat ran down my temples, and my back ached from tension. My hips rocked against the mattress, driving my cock into the surface, seeking relief from the quaking pleasure-pain.
“Beg, damn you!” I hissed against her clit. I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Use my name and I will.”
Fuck, we wouldn’t get anywhere. We were both too strong. Too damn stubborn.
Panting hard, I looked up into her blazing eyes, glassy and intoxicated with desire. “Together.” It was the first time I’d conceded a truce. I didn’t like it, but if it got me inside her, so be it.
Nila froze, her mouth falling wide. Finally, she nodded. “Together.”
Pressing a kiss onto her pussy, I climbed her body and settled between her legs. Locking my fingers in her hair, I held her firm with nowhere to go. My cock twitched, resting against her entrance, imploring to slide inside.
Our hearts matched with racing beats, our breathing just as threadbare and frayed.
Her lips moved; sound spilled. “I’m begging you to fuck me, Jethro Hawk.”
My eyes snapped shut as a full body shudder took me hostage. “Again.” I swallowed hard. “More, Nila. Beg.”
The moment her name fell from my mouth, she let go of everything she’d been holding back. Her hands fell to my arse, digging her nails and drawing her knees up. With a fierce burst of power, she jerked me forward, forcing my tip inside her.
We both moaned. Loudly.
“Fuck me, please. I’m begging. I need it. I need you. I’ve never needed anything as much as you filling me.” She tried to reach up to kiss me, but my hands in her hair kept her open and honest and stripped bare.
“Jethro, I’ll die if you don’t fuck me this very minute. I’m hungry. I’m starving. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just know I’m itchy and achy and weepy and so damn angry that you won’t give me what I want.”
“And what do you want…Nila?”
She shivered. “I want your cock. Now.”
And you can have it.
I thrust.
There was no gentle easing like last time. My self-control was done. Over. Finite. I sank inside with a barbarous impale.
She screamed.
I groaned.
We both collapsed into one another.
Falling. Falling. Swirling. Swirling. We took each other prisoner. Punishing our bodies, focused on one blistering goal.
“Oh, God, no…stop,” she cried. Her hips tried to dislodge my size.
“I can’t stop.”
“It hurts.” Her breath was cool against my fevered flesh.
“Let me in.” I thrust again, gritting my teeth as a wash of pleasure shot into my balls.
Her mouth opened to scream again, but I clamped a hand over her lips, silencing her. Her cheekbones were stark, skin stretched with lust. Her eyes were so dark they mirrored my reflection, showing a man I didn’t recognise. A man who’d well and truly passed the boundary of right and wrong.
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.
Why did Jethro want me to use it? Wasn’t he jealous that I had an affinity with Kes/Kite? You have to put a stop to that. It wasn’t fair to confuse Kestrel by flirting with him via messages only to pull away in person.
I had too much to juggle with dealing with Jethro; I couldn’t enter into another masquerade with his brother.
Grabbing the device, I skimmed through my emails and opened text messages.
There were a few from Vaughn, a couple from my father, and one only an hour old from Kite.
My heart skipped a beat as I read.
Kite007: I dreamed of kissing you last night.
I reclined against the pillows. Ordinarily, I would’ve loved to respond and tease. Now, I felt as if I was cheating on Jethro.
Needle&Thread: Sorry I haven’t been in touch. I—I think…it’s time to end this. Don’t you? We both know who each other is. It’s too complicated to keep pretending.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. My heart ached at pushing him away, especially as I’d relied on Kite to be neutral. Giving him up, even though I knew the truth, seemed like I’d pulled away from the last remaining part of my past.
Kite007: End it? As in the thought of sleeping with me was so abhorrent, you’re done?
Needle&Thread: I just…I’m sorry.
Kite007: Fine.
Needle&Thread: We’ll still be friends. I’ll still see you every day.
Kite007: Sometimes, having a relationship entirely based on seeing each other stops us from learning the truth. Sometimes, the only way to see that truth is to block off all other senses but the mind. Goodbye, Needle. Guess you weren’t ready to see the truth after all.
Four hours had passed since Kite’s text, and I still hadn’t shed the pain inside my soul. What had he meant? And why wouldn’t he reply to any of my messages?
I’d frantically sent text after text, asking for forgiveness and an explanation.
But nothing.
It was only hunger that drove me from my room in search of lunch.
I hadn’t seen Jethro again, and the burn between my legs was the only reminder that something irreversible had happened between us last night.