Third Debt (Indebted #4)(97)

“This isn’t about dominant or submissive, Nila. This is about showing you how I feel. How earning your ultimate trust is better than any drug, better than any promise. This is about making you understand.”

“I don’t need to understand. All I know is my heart belongs to you.”

Jethro placed his fingertips over my mouth, shaking his head softly. “That isn’t enough—I owe you so much more than that. I want to show you the level of intensity I live with. I want you to know first-hand the sensory overload I suffer now that I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Fallen in love with you.

No words would ever compare.

I trembled as he stood up, gazing at my spread body. He stepped back; the bedside lights illuminated his spattering of chest hair and gleaming cock. His eyes hooded, filling with salaciously carnal intentions.

Even though I was the one tied up, he was the one bound—locked in a life that demanded so much from him. The longing on his face clenched my core, making me wet.

“You look incredible like that,” Jethro whispered. “Knowing you can’t run. Can’t hide. That you’re all mine.” He prowled to the side of the bed, dragging his fingertip over my knee, my thigh, between my legs, my belly, my breast, my chin, my mouth.

With a gentle press, he pushed his tattooed index past my lips. The thought of my initials stamping ownership on him reminded me we hadn’t done the tally for the Third Debt. I shouldn’t want something so ridiculous on my flesh, but I wanted him to sign and approve every inch of me. I wanted to be his completely and forever.

My tongue swirled around his finger.

He pulled his digit free. “Wait here. I have to get a few supplies from next door.”

Supplies? What supplies?

Ignoring my racing heartbeat, I laughed. “Where exactly can I go?”

He grinned—such a light-hearted sight. “Precisely. And that’s what makes this such fun.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “Wait for me.”

Then he was gone.

The moment he disappeared, doubt filled my mind. Did I want this to happen? What would he do?

Testing the bindings, I squirmed. Fear lurked on the outskirts of my brain, but my body only grew wetter. No matter what rational thinking told me I should want, I couldn’t deny I’d never been so turned on.

Jethro appeared again, locking the door behind him. He kept his hands behind his back, obscuring what he’d collected. “Remember you said you trusted me.”

Stopping at the base of the bed, he slowly brought forth the hunting whip he’d used the day he chased me through the forest. I recognised the diamond glinting on the handle. I’d seen it while hiding naked in the tree, begging for a chance to escape.

I flinched. “Hell, no…”

He can’t be serious.

He shook his head, his eyes flashing with pain. “It’s not what you think.” He stalked around the mattress, trailing the tip of the crop along my skin. Every touch sent my nipples pebbling, core dampening. I didn’t want this—yet my body only grew more sensitive.

A stroke was no longer a stroke but a tease.

A smile was no longer a smile but a promise. A deliciously dark, dangerous promise.

“You trust me?”

I breathed faster. How could I say I trusted him then doubt him the moment that trust was tested?

Locking eyes, I nodded.

Jethro relaxed a little, then his wrist flicked and he brought the whip down across the top of my thigh. Not hard, but hard enough that heat flared.

I jerked, panting at the scrambled messages my nervous system gave. Was it hot or cold? Did it feel good or bad? Did I want to run or stay?

I don’t know!

Jethro swallowed hard.

Can he sense my confusion?

His voice was thick as he demanded, “Tell me how it feels.”

I shook my head, drowning under another influx of sensation. There was no way to describe it.

“Try, Nila. I want to know.”

I scrunched up my face. “Um…it’s warm…tingling.”

Jethro chuckled. “No, I don’t want to know physically. I don’t care about physically.” He sat on the edge of the bed, stroking my cheek with tenderness. “I know how it feels on your body.” His stroking dropped to my breast, not touching flesh but something so much deeper. “I care about what you feel in here.” His fingers pressed firmer as if he could carve out my heart and protect it forever. “I want to know how your heart feels, your mind, your thoughts, your soul. I want everything. I want the truth.”

I gasped as his hand drifted from breast to *.

His mouth tightened as he pressed a finger inside me. “Tell me how this makes you feel.”

My hips arched, wanting him to push deeper, give me more. “I’m wet…”

He withdrew his fingers. “No.” Drawing my wetness up my belly and back to my heart, he murmured, “In here. Tell me. Go deeper than physical. Ignore mental. Tell me your deepest, darkest sensation.”

I trembled as his hand returned between my legs; his long, delicious finger pressed inside me.

I moaned. My head fell back as I clenched around his touch. He made me feel idolized and wanted, dropping all his barriers, driving me upward to a familiar goal.

My mind was a mess. I couldn’t understand the threads of racing thoughts. But he needed this from me, I would do my best.