I clenched around him, proud and smug at having him inside me. He’d taken me, but I’d taken him. I held him in my body. I was his home.

His fingers switched to hands, holding my hips as he thrust again. And again. His strokes stretched nerve endings until the fluttering wings of another release begged to form.

His entire body hardened, his arms trembling, his suit whispering with every thrust.

Pulling out to the very tip, he rammed hard inside me. Over and over. Sweat decorated his forehead from being fully dressed as he let euphoria claim him.

His groan was primitive and so low; it slipped into my chest, wrapping around my heart. “Christ, you feel so incredible.”

His hold tightened as his thrusts turned to fucking. The bed moved with his knees and my breasts bounced from his furious claiming. Every hot drive nailed me to the bed as he fell over me—turning from standing to squashing.

Having his body blanket mine, having his cock scatter my thoughts, turned me molten.

Pleasure rippled through me again and again. Keeping time with his fucking, pushing us up and up.

I gave myself over to ecstasy.

Harder.

Harder.

Long, invasive strokes.

Every second I came undone, losing my sense of self.

Burying his face in my neck, Jethro held me so tightly, he almost stopped my breathing. Our torsos glued together, but our bottom half worked harder, faster. We fucked each other to heaven.

“I’ve never been so hard.” His lips found mine, his tongue driving into my mouth. “Never been so fucking deep.”

He pounded into me, never breaking his pace.

I mewled and begged and said things I would never remember.

I was helpless.

I was powerful.

I was desperate.

I was sated.

My orgasm switched into a storm, drenching me with raindrops, turning me into a river.

Holding my hair, his thrusting turned vicious. The crown of his cock stroked my inner walls, stretching my ache, coaxing my orgasm to teeter on the final pinnacle.

“Come, Nila.” His teeth captured my bottom lip as he groaned long and low. His own orgasm started slow, thrusting inside me with calculated possession.

His back arched; the base of his cock rubbed my clit perfectly.

The first splash of his cum set me off.

I climaxed in one quick unravelling, wave after wave, milking him as he came. The release magnified as Jethro kept fucking, kept claiming.

His arms suffocated me, his body pinning me as his hips continued to pump until he spent every drop of his desire.

Minutes and heartbeats became uncountable as we lay there, hot and sticky but more in love than ever. His lips whispered over my jaw to my ear. “I married a goddess.”

I chuckled. “No, you married a Weaver.”

He nipped my lobe. “And now she’s a Hawk.” The flash of his grin stopped my heart, then like a defibrillator, restarted it in this new world he’d given me.

Rolling onto his side, we both winced as his cock slipped out, lying spent on his lower belly. Following him, I rested my head on his chest, letting the heavy thud-thud of his heartbeat rearrange my own.

My arms and legs quivered with residual pleasure, melting me boneless onto him. “Did we really just consummate our marriage?”

Jethro’s arm banded around me. A kiss landed on the top of my head. “I think fucking each other close to death is more the correct term.”

Raising my eyes, I smiled. “Well, your destiny was always to kill me. If you do it by orgasm, I won’t complain.”

His eyes narrowed, filling with past debts and things I no longer wanted to think about. The love he held for me couldn’t be denied as he gently kissed my lips. “My destiny might’ve been to kill you, but I’ve rewritten fate. Now, I’m going to do everything in my power to make you immortal.”

My heart skipped at the passionate vow in his tone. “How will you do that?”

He nudged my nose with his. “By turning our duo into a family.

“By making you a mother.”

Six Weeks Later

MARRIAGE WAS BETTER than any other gift, wealth, estate, or luck combined.

Being married to Nila made my life, my very fucking world, complete.

The past six weeks had been a chaotic mess of building new goals, guiding our dreams forward, and slipping into new patterns of normalcy.

Tex had found Jacqueline.

Nila and Vaughn had stared at the photo of their sister for days before deciding to set up a meeting.

They’d all agreed to meet somewhere neutral. A restaurant two weeks from now.

I feared how fraught everyone’s emotions would be that night, but I would be beside her every step.

Not a day went by where I wasn’t fucking awed by Nila. She handled her sister’s reappearance, her new world, and my need for her emotional comfort with ease. She guarded my condition when we were out in public. She knew exactly how to treat me so I felt loved but not mothered.

And she let me do everything she did for me in return. She allowed me to provide a home for her, deliver gifts in both physical and emotional capacity.

Together, we’d found a new happiness, and I lived in its bubble every second of every day.

After our wedding and honeymoon in Santorini, Nila had returned to her craft with passion. She sewed late into the night while I completed ledgers and created new loyalties. We would often work side by side, sometimes in the Weaver quarters where all her fabric, supplies, and mess still lived; sometimes in the front parlour where I liked to drink up the sunshine, and sometimes in bed. A lazy afternoon where we stayed hunkered in warm covers and did the bare minimum of adult responsibilities so we could play beneath the sheets for the rest of the day.