Second Debt (Indebted #3)(40)

Then, he melted.

His fingers slinked from my cheeks to the back of my skull. I cried out as his tongue tore into my mouth and his hands fisted in my hair. With fingers full of my black strands, he tugged my head back, forcing me to open wider, kiss deeper—give him everything.

I’d like to say I retained some resemblance of myself. I’d like to admit that, while I’d fallen, I still knew who I was.

But that would’ve been a lie.

There was no me without him.

No Nila without Jethro.

No Threads without Kite.

I knew that now.

And it butchered me in ways no threats or torture ever could.

Tears leaked from my eyes as our lips danced and tongues tangoed.

Our murmurs and moans intertwined until the serenade of our desire overshadowed the music from outside and our racing heartbeats. Every sweep of his taste left a glowing fire around my heart, my skin, my soul.

He demanded everything but gave more in return.

In my arms, I held the real Jethro. The one I’d seen but never believed was true. He was strong and brilliant and kind.

And he cared for me. So much.

Never untangling our lips, Jethro bent a little and gathered the material of my dress. Shoving it upward, he groaned as I wriggled and helped, forcing the fabric to bunch around my waist.

He froze as he found the lace garter and wickedly sharp dirk. His eyebrow raised; very slowly, he slid the blade from against my flesh and held it in his fingertips.

I tensed, daring him to berate me for such precautions.

His mouth opened to speak then his eyes darkened with approval. “Use this wisely—if you need to.” Throwing the blade to jab upright in the dirt, he murmured, “But I’ll never give you a reason to use it on me.”

We fell together again. Our lips melded into one slippery seal. I conquered his body—running my fingers over every inch of him. His nipples peaked as I stroked them beneath his shirt and his back bowed as I reached down and cupped his hot erection.

Sweat slicked our skin as our finesse perished, turning into fumbling urgency.

With swift hands, Jethro shoved my knickers to my ankles and waited as I kicked them away.

His eyes incinerated me as he grabbed my arse and hoisted me, pinning me in his arms against the scaffolding.

His lips claimed mine again, eating my every moan. I pressed my fingers into his rock hard biceps, relishing in his strength. Then I lowered my touch to undo the button and zipper of his jodhpurs.

His forehead furrowed as my fingers slid inside the dark heat of his boxer-briefs and captured his scalding cock.

“I’m going to fill you,” he murmured, thrusting into my hand. “I’m going to give you what I’ve been told all my life I couldn’t give.”

I bit my lip as I fumbled with pushing the tight material over his hips. I didn’t need to ask what he couldn’t give me.

It was obvious.

It wasn’t physical or even emotional.

It was more than that.

The catalyst of what made us human.

The ability to adore.

“I want to spill inside you, Nila.”

My eyes snapped shut. My body sung with dark music, twisting me, moulding me into some wanton creature. I opened my eyes and kissed him. “What are you waiting for?”

He positioned me so he could hold me with one arm. With his free hand, Jethro cupped my cheek, running a calloused finger across my lips. “Nothing…not anymore.”

My blood turned into a river of molten hunger.

With fumbling hands, I freed his cock, running my thumb over his slippery crown.

Jethro threw his head back, rocking into my palm.

My mouth watered to lick at the glistening sweat at the base of his throat.

I stroked him, harder and faster as pleasure hijacked my body.

Jethro shook his head, his eyes squeezed closed. “Stop. I’m too close…too f*cking close.” His hands clutched at my arse again, spreading me shamelessly, presenting my wet * that was so close to his cock.

“Guide me inside you.” His eyes flashed. “Please, Nila. Let me f*ck you.”

Unashamedly, I opened my legs wider.

Jethro breathed in my ear. “Today, you’re all mine.”

I bit his lobe, clamping my teeth harder than I intended. He flinched as I whispered, “Not just for today.”

His body shuddered. His movements became jilted and eager.

Without a sound, I positioned his cock between my legs and lowered a fraction, angling him inside.

Oh, God.

My eyes rolled back as Jethro growled, “Fuck, you feel so right.”

The words wrenched me from my stupor, granting me another clue.

I didn’t feel good or wet or warm—or any manner of things a man might say to a woman as he entered her.

I felt right.

Right to him.

Home to him.

Sucking in a breath, he thrust, sliding inside me.

The friction of the scaffold behind me bruised my spine as Jethro held me firmer in his arms. Instinct made me wrap my legs around his hips as he buried himself deeper and deeper.

He groaned as I rocked on him. My desire stole the pain of his size, twisting it into a heady aphrodisiac that made me cry out with longing.

Every inch of him invaded me—stretching me, claiming me.

Jethro bit my neck, trailing teeth down oversensitive skin. “I belong in you.”