Debt Inheritance (Indebted #1)(15)

I wanted to deny the flutter in my heart and the intense heat billowing in my core. I wanted to be outraged at his crudeness and blatant sexual thrill. But I couldn’t. Because despite never entertaining the idea of violence with sex, I couldn’t stop the undeniable allure.

Pulling back, Jethro whispered, “Don’t turn timid on me. Say it. Say what you want.”

I was no longer human; I was liquid. Hot, pliable liquid just waiting for some force to reshape me. Everything he’d said flared a need inside until a fever broke across my brow, but I couldn’t speak so dirtily. Only if you have a phone in your hand, wimp.

Dropping my eyes, I whispered, “I want…I want…”

Jethro tightened his fingers on my jaw. “Say it.” His eyes flashed and the misconception that he didn’t know passion dissolved. He knew it. He wielded it. He hid it beneath layers and layers of mystery I would never hope to unravel.

Taking a shaky breath, cursing the damn corset, I said, “I want your mouth.”

He nodded. “Fine. But I’ll have yours first.” His thumb stroked my lips again, breaking the seal of my red lipstick, and penetrating my mouth.

I froze, eyes wide and locked on his. “Where do you want it?” His voice dropped to a barely murmured curse—impossible to ignore, deadly to my ears and body.

He didn’t care about the waitress or that anyone on the darkened street could see us. He just pinned me with unswerving golden eyes and hooked his thumb against my tongue.

I couldn’t speak. His large palm held me immobile while his finger rendered me silent. I didn’t know what to do. Should I suck? Bite? Do nothing?

Jethro smiled, it wasn’t his usual icy edge, but it wasn’t soft either. “Follow your instincts. You want to suck, so suck.” He forced his thumb deeper into my mouth, eyes darkening.

He so easily placed me into a position of submission, but I’d never felt so powerful. Closing my lips, I sucked. Once.

His jaw clenched, but nothing more.

I did it again, licking his finger with an eager tongue. My mouth filled with liquid, tasting him. Wanting him. Every suck sent a wave of insatiable need to my core, making me wet.

Jethro’s shoulders tensed. “See? You didn’t need to tell me what you wanted. Your body does that for you. You’ve surprised me, and that isn’t an easy thing to do.” My dress rustled as he wrapped an arm around my waist, dragging me against his hard body.

I went willingly, trapped in so many ways. My mind was consumed with only him. There was peace in that moment. Lust yes, feverishness definitely, but also serenity at the complete attention he demanded. I didn’t have to think of my family, my company, my endless work schedule.

I was nothing but flesh and blood and bone.

I was need personified, and only Jethro could put out the fire he’d cajoled.

His lips brushed against my ear again. I tensed for the bite of teeth. “Know what else your body tells me?”

I shook my head, swirling my tongue around his thumb. My core clenched; my mind blanked. The moment of intense privacy happened on a very public couch in a café window.

“You need something. You want something that you’re not ready to understand.” Jethro placed a delicate kiss against my jaw. “You need it so bad you’d allow me to run my hand up your knee, between your legs, and sink my fingers deep inside you this very second. You’d open your innocent thighs, even with witnesses, and moan as I sank my cock deeper than anyone.”

A bubble formed in my chest, twisting and glistening with a mixture of denial and agreement.

His thumb pressed hard, pinning my tongue below.

I jerked, eyes tearing wide.

“You’d let me drag you into some sleazy alley, tear off your dress, and…”

I didn’t want to hear the rest. But I did. Oh, how I did. He’d taken the power of speech away. I couldn’t deny anything he said. And I didn’t want to. For the first time in my life I had something real. Cheap and shallow, just like Kite, but hot-blooded and absolute.

I would willingly trade my flawless reputation for one night of sordid incredibleness. What does that make me?

I flinched, answering my own question. Lonely. I hated that word more than any other in the dictionary.

Jethro’s thumb slinked slowly from my mouth, holding me firm. “You’d let me make you scream, Ms. Weaver, and because of that willingness, I would never bow to what you want.”

The heat generated from the intense conversation dispersed, faster and faster. He curled his lip. “Whatever would your father say if he knew his daughter secretly wanted to be f*cked against an alley wall by a stranger?”

The crudeness of his words slammed me back to reality.

He dropped his hand, and plucked a napkin from the table. Imprisoning my gaze, he slowly wiped his glistening thumb, before tossing the tissue into his empty coffee cup. “I dare you to deny any of that. Or pretend you didn’t want every inch of me.” He smirked at the double entendre.

The flush of mortification crested over my breasts to my cheeks. My tongue bruised from his rough handling, my mouth empty from tasting him. I couldn’t sit there and be ridiculed any longer. I’d been selfish and allowed this egotistical maniac to cancel my plans with Vaughn and father, all for nothing.

This was karma, and it stung like hell.

Grabbing the mountains of fabric wedged around me, I tried to stand—unsuccessfully. “I’m leaving. I can’t—”