First Debt (Indebted #2)(72)

My willpower to stay away had snapped this morning when I’d seen her disappear into the gardens with a hungry haunt in her eyes.

I liked to think that look was for me.

But then she’d kissed my f*cking brother.

Nila’s hands flew up, her fingers slipping through my hair. She moaned, sucking on my tongue, driving me mad.

My stomach swooped as my cock instantly thickened.

If she was hungry, then I was f*cking ravenous.

Her cheeks were pliant beneath my fingertips. Our tongues meshed and parried. Her soft moan echoed in my chest, and I couldn’t stop myself from walking her backward to the bed.

Countless evenings Cut had told me how I was to f*ck her the first time. A game plan of pain, torture, and no pleasure permitted for her. That was part of the Third Debt—amongst other things.

But here I was again. Disobeying.

Fucking disobeying everything I was, just for one little taste.

My cock wasn’t supposed to go anywhere near her for months. How did this happen? How was I so weak when it came to her?

Nila cried out as the back of her legs crashed against the bed. She tumbled from my grip, her cheeks pinpricked with red from where my fingertips had dug into her flesh.

My dick had never been so hard as she clambered onto her knees and looped her arms around my neck, jerking me close.

I should stop this. I should walk out the f*cking door and lock it. Better yet, I should strike her and make her cry—instil a healthy dose of fear into the woman who was supposed to be my toy. Not my master.

“Jethro—please…stop thinking. I can hear your thoughts; they’re so loud.”

I reared back. “What?”

If she could hear my thoughts, why the hell wasn’t she running? Couldn’t she see the danger? Didn’t she understand the nightmare this could turn into?

I not only played with my life but hers, too. Death wouldn’t be given lightly if Cut found out. He’d make her beg for it. He’d tear her apart piece by piece for every delicious feeling she invoked in his firstborn son.

Every kiss, every touch—I was sentencing her to worse than any debt she could repay. And all for what? Because I was f*cking weak. Weak. Weak.

You can have today.

I’d premeditated this—that was how addicted I’d become.

‘Someone’ had spilled something sticky onto the security hard drive; a new part had to be ordered before the cameras in the Weaver quarters would be operational.

I calculated two days, possibly three, before it was replaced.

Two or three days to f*ck her as much as I could, before going cold-turkey and forgetting that this ever happened.

“Kiss me,” she murmured, her black eyes glittering with lust.

A smile tugged the corner of my mouth. “Aren’t those the two words that got us into this mess?”

She grabbed the front of my shirt, her expert fingers undoing the buttons in record time.

My head fell back as her tiny hands splayed on my chest and tickled their way around to my spine.

She pulled me close, sealing her lips over mine.

The second her taste entered my mouth, I snapped again.

I couldn’t help it.

She was a f*cking drug.

Grabbing the diamond collar, I shoved her hard. Toppling from her knees, her nails scraped my ribcage as she fell backward on the bed. The moment her ballerina legs spread, I pounced.

I couldn’t resist anymore—it was futile.

Ripping my shirt off my shoulders, I kneeled on the bed and grabbed her hips to drag her body beneath mine. Pressing myself over her, we both shuddered in delight.

Her belly fluttered like a dying creature; while her heart pounded so hard, it rearranged my own beat.

I’d never enjoyed kissing anyone as much as I enjoyed kissing Nila. I felt her tongue in my mouth but felt it stronger on my cock. I’d never been high on the taste of another person. It wasn’t just chemistry sparking between us or the battle of willpowers or even the knowledge of how this would all end.

It was different, and I had no urge to put a description on it. The moment I knew what it was, was the moment I would have to run from it.

Her tongue stroked slow and inviting with mine, dancing like liquid silk.

My hand fell between her legs. The jeans she wore were my worst enemy as I attacked the button and zipper.

She giggled against my mouth, shoving my fumbling fingers away to release it with one twist of a single hand. “Now you can get rid of them.”

My stomach clenched at the need in her voice. “Thank f*ck for that.” Rolling off her, I yanked the offending material away and bent my head over her hip to tear at the black lace knickers she wore. Ripping them off, a groan echoed in my chest.

“Hey! You keep doing that and I won’t have any underwear left.”

My cock lurched at the thought of her spending the rest of her days walking around with nothing on beneath her fancy skirts and dresses. I liked the idea way too much.

An image of her dressed in that gorgeous black and feather gown when I’d stolen her from Milan filled my mind. I wished I’d brought it with us, instead of leaving it on the sidewalk, tattered and dirty. Nila was the type of beauty who deserved to wear decadence every day.

I couldn’t deny I liked seeing her in shorts and regular clothing, but there was something overwhelmingly sexy about a woman in corsets and garters.