Third Debt (Indebted #4)(78)

But then anger slapped the nausea away.

He should’ve been the one to stop this. If only he’d given up trying to fit in and realised that he would never be the man his father wanted. If only he could see the truth.

Now, it’s too late.

“Scream,” Kes whispered.

“Fucking, ride my dick, bitch,” he yelled.

“Stop. Oh, my God. Stop!”

My body rocked backward, seeking a release against all rationality. Kes panted in my ear, his cock throbbing and hot between my thighs. I pressed my legs together, giving him friction to rub against.

“Goddammit, don’t do that.” He pulled away, pressing himself against the small of my back. “You’re f*cking beautiful.” His fingers worked me harder. “Shit, I wish I could climb inside you for real.”

His words clenched my core. An orgasm I never expected brewed into being.

I moaned as my wrists hurt, being squashed every time Kes thrust.

“I’m losing it,” he muttered. “I need this to end before we both get into trouble.”

His gruff voice attacked my nervous system, sending me into quakes. My body took over; my toes curled with building pleasure.

Kes grasped my wrists, tugging on the sash, arching my back.

He nipped at my throat, running his warm tongue down the top of my spine. His fingers quickened, along with his hips. My thoughts disintegrated as his touch slipped on my clit and found wetness.

“Fuuuuck.” His thrusts turned erratic and savage. His fingers lost uniformity.

I moaned.

I couldn’t help it.

It felt good.

I wanted to cry.

I wanted to embrace it.

I wanted to die for who I’d become.

The covers shifted and clung, no doubt making it seem as if Kes took me with nothing barred. My mouth opened to breathe faster. Kes surprised me by sealing his lips completely over mine.

I stiffened.

I didn’t know what to do.

A kiss was somehow even more intimate than the fake-f*cking we indulged in. Then his fingers tickled from my clit to entrance. I moaned. I couldn’t decide if it was a beg to stop or permission to keep going.

The fear that any minute he might stop being a gentleman trying to save me and f*ck me against my will added the element of danger.

He shuddered as he slipped a fingertip barely inside me.

The taboo. The forbiddenness. The wrongness of what we were doing consumed me.

I couldn’t stop the detonating bliss just like I couldn’t stop my blood from flowing.

I came.

The second my body exploded around his finger, his tongue entered my mouth and I didn’t fight it.

I welcomed it.

For one delicious spiralling moment, I let go of right and wrong. I forgot about Jethro and ignored the messy aftermath.

I gave into pleasure.

Kes pulled me back against him, pleasure and need rumbling in his chest.

My fear completely subsided.

I trusted him.

All this time he’d been there guiding me. Looking after me.

His hand clutched my hip, forcing me to rock against his fingers. His cock branded my back as my core contracted again and again, heaven shooting through my system.

He spooned me harder, his legs entwining with mine. “Shit.”

I let out a cry of ecstasy as my orgasm took me high, high, higher before snipping me free and hurtling me back to earth.

My ears rang. My heartbeat was a noisy jackhammer.

His lips sought mine again and I kissed him back. Our tongues tangled and I catalogued the difference between brothers. Jethro was fierce and controlling. A dominant, mysterious man through and through. Kestrel was eager and ferocious, taking everything with boyish charm. “Fuck, I don’t want to come. I promised myself I. Would. Not. Come.”

I believed him. I understood his decency and I couldn’t thank him enough.

But there was one thing I could do to show him my gratitude.

It was a gift I could give on my own accord.

I forced my hips back, crushing his cock against his stomach. His mouth opened wide; his body jerked as he poured curses down my throat. “Fuck, don’t do that. I’m going—”

“It’s okay,” I breathed. “It’s okay.”

A guttural grunt tore from his lungs as he lost all reason and rode my back.

His body bucked, his arm wrapped tight around me. The sheets glued to our mutual sweat as heat enveloped us. Remembering the performance, I cried loudly, “Stop. Please stop!”

He grabbed my wrists, locking them at the base of my spine.

For a split second, pain blared in my back.

“Shit, I can’t. I can’t f*cking stop.” The bed creaked and his hand rose to cup my breast. He tweaked my nipple, gasping as my body bowed into him. “Fuck, he’s gonna kill me for this.” Then a hot wet spurt stuck us together as his legs twitched around mine.

Every tiny tremor vibrated his body.

His orgasm went on for a while, each jerk of his hips gluing me further to him. Our heartbeats raced, and the outside world ceased to exist. In that second, we cemented a deeper bond. Not of lust or love or even erotic connection—but a trust that would be forever lifelong.

We hadn’t had sex, but something had happened between us.

Something no one could take away.

He’d gone against his family. He’d saved me in the only way he could.