Debt Inheritance (Indebted #1)(44)

Do it. Accept it.

He paused, murmuring into my mouth, “Tell me a secret. A dirty dark secret. Admit you want me. Admit you want your mortal enemy.”

I admit it.

“I won’t.” My heartbeat switched from thumping to humming; my skin prickled with heat.

I hated him. I wanted to kill him before he killed me. But I couldn’t ignore the overwhelming attraction he’d created. And it wasn’t just me affected. His breathing turned ragged; his fingers dug deeper with need. Every pulse of his hips drew a quickening in my core. I couldn’t control it. I didn’t want to control it. I was done controlling my life.

I’m free.

The longer we stood, the further we blurred the lines between debtor and debtee. Weaver and Hawk. In that tiny moment, we were each other’s answer to freedom. A mind-blistering coupling that would surely ruin me for life. But at least I would’ve lived.

I looked deep into Jethro’s burning eyes, transmitting everything I suffered. I hate you for making me acknowledge this part of myself.

His face tightened; his body slammed harder against mine. Whispering his lips over my cheek, bringing them low, lower, lower, the tip of his tongue tasted the corner of my mouth.

My world disintegrated with an ecliptic bang.

I trembled, eyes snapping closed on their own accord.

His hand on my hip shot downward, disappearing between our bodies.

I gasped, jolting in his hold as his fingers scrunched up my dress, shoving it out of the way as if it were nothing. My gasp turned to a ragged moan as he cupped me bold and strong. My gaze flew wide, locking onto his.

Never had something felt so good. So bad. So intensely delicious.

His gold eyes turned to a burnt sunset, filling with fire as he fingered my knickers. “Do you think you’re so perfect you wouldn’t scream my name? Do you think you’d be able to say no if I dragged you into the kennel and f*cked you?” His fingers bit into my *, hot and punishing. “Because I want to. Fuck, how I want to. I want your screams. I want you begging.”

I lost myself completely, throwing myself into this new creation. The one who had the power to do this and still retain her heart. The one who would give Jethro her body because she wanted it. Not him.

His fingers scattered my thoughts, probing against the thin satin of my underwear. His touch was electrifying. I wanted more. I wanted everything.

I stepped off the cliff. “No. I’m not so perfect. And yes, I would scream.” Clawing at his shoulders, I forced myself deeper onto his hand. “You think I’m immune? You think I’m dry and repulsed by you?” Dragging him closer, I murmured, “You couldn’t be more wrong.”

Jethro’s nostrils flared. His fingers twitched as he narrowed his eyes. “You think you can confuse me?”

I pressed a finger against his mouth. “Shut up.”

His eyes popped wide; he growled low in his chest. His lips pulled back, revealing sharp teeth.

I didn’t remove my finger. I was in charge. I was the one taking. “My heart hates you but my body….I’m drenched. I’m begging. So stop your endless questions. Stop taunting me and deliver.”

Kite flew into my mind, then was gone. I’d surpassed awkward sexting, embracing physical coyness.

The world paused for a millisecond.

Jethro sucked in a shocked breath. Then his hand left my *, tore the small stitches holding my knickers in place, and drove one finger so damn deep inside me, I did what I said I would.

I screamed.

My head fell back, smashing against the wall. My heart exploded into a mess of passion and rage.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

My mouth sucked in air, but it didn’t stop the swirling, blinding need stealing my remaining sanity, giving me completely and utterly to Jethro. I cried inside. I wailed inside. I wished I could be different. Someone not so deprived of her animalistic needs. Someone who could scream and call for help. Not someone who tilted their hips and moaned at the curses spilling from Jethro’s lips. Not someone who gripped the man who tore her from her world and opened her legs wider.

But then Jethro touched a spot that made my eyes pop wide, muscles to lock, and a need so violent to seize, I grabbed his wrist, forcing him to take me harder. My tears turned to joy, writhing on Jethro’s hand.

“Fuck. Me.” His voice was sex-gruffed and so low it echoed over cobblestones. “Who the f*ck are you?” His finger worked me, pulsating deep inside.

I melted in his hands. I opened my legs as wide as I could. I gave up on everything, embracing the simplicity of being a sexually starved creature.

This wasn’t making love. This wasn’t even f*cking. This was war. And hell it felt good.

Digging my fingernails into his shoulders, I jerked him closer. “Harder,” I breathed.

Jethro groaned, and in a twist of fate—obeyed. His finger drove so deep his knuckles nudged against my swollen flesh. His thumb swirled around my clit, smearing wetness, taking me to ever new heights.

I turned to stone before detonating into tiny pieces. Every inch of my thoughts, emotions, and reactions were stolen by his mind-blowing touch. I hadn’t felt anything like it.

Guilt tried to claim me, reminding me this was the man who ruined my life. But lust quickly devoured the guilt, turning it to raging passion.

“You’re so f*cking tight,” he growled, thrusting his finger harder.