First Debt

I breathed hot, drenching her inner thighs with everything boiling inside me. “Fine.”

“You go first.”

I chuckled, so turned on with need, I rapidly lost the skill for conversation. “No chance. Beg.” I pressed my mouth and nose hard against her, inhaling deeply until my lungs were soaked with her smell.

“Jethro!”

My heart raced. My breathing made every word clipped and breathless. “Say it—put us both out of our misery.”

Her head twisted to the side, pressing her cheek against the sheets.

“Do it and I’ll do what you want. I’ll use your name. I’ll climb on top of you. I’ll spread your legs and drive my cock so deep and fast inside, you won’t be able to walk for a week.”

We both groaned at the mental image. Fuck, she better beg. Otherwise, she would win another round. I was two seconds away from taking her.

My impressive self-control—the same restraint that had protected me all my life—had disappeared.

Her hips churned as I dragged my tongue through her quivering pussy. “Beg, Ms. Weaver. Beg.” Her velvet skin against my tongue sent all thoughts of family and consequences far into the stratosphere.

I sucked her clit again, my ears straining for her to give in to me, but still she resisted.

I stuck my tongue deep, driving her toward an orgasm. Her cunt convulsed, milking my shallow penetration.

I groaned. Sweat ran down my temples, and my back ached from tension. My hips rocked against the mattress, driving my cock into the surface, seeking relief from the quaking pleasure-pain.

“Beg, damn you!” I hissed against her clit. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Use my name and I will.”

Fuck, we wouldn’t get anywhere. We were both too strong. Too damn stubborn.

Panting hard, I looked up into her blazing eyes, glassy and intoxicated with desire. “Together.” It was the first time I’d conceded a truce. I didn’t like it, but if it got me inside her, so be it.

Nila froze, her mouth falling wide. Finally, she nodded. “Together.”

Pressing a kiss onto her pussy, I climbed her body and settled between her legs. Locking my fingers in her hair, I held her firm with nowhere to go. My cock twitched, resting against her entrance, imploring to slide inside.

Our hearts matched with racing beats, our breathing just as threadbare and frayed.

Her lips moved; sound spilled. “I’m begging you to fuck me, Jethro Hawk.”

My eyes snapped shut as a full body shudder took me hostage. “Again.” I swallowed hard. “More, Nila. Beg.”

The moment her name fell from my mouth, she let go of everything she’d been holding back. Her hands fell to my arse, digging her nails and drawing her knees up. With a fierce burst of power, she jerked me forward, forcing my tip inside her.

We both moaned. Loudly.

“Fuck me, please. I’m begging. I need it. I need you. I’ve never needed anything as much as you filling me.” She tried to reach up to kiss me, but my hands in her hair kept her open and honest and stripped bare.

“Jethro, I’ll die if you don’t fuck me this very minute. I’m hungry. I’m starving. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just know I’m itchy and achy and weepy and so damn angry that you won’t give me what I want.”

“And what do you want…Nila?”

She shivered. “I want your cock. Now.”

And you can have it.

I thrust.

There was no gentle easing like last time. My self-control was done. Over. Finite. I sank inside with a barbarous impale.

She screamed.

I groaned.

We both collapsed into one another.

Falling. Falling. Swirling. Swirling. We took each other prisoner. Punishing our bodies, focused on one blistering goal.

“Oh, God, no…stop,” she cried. Her hips tried to dislodge my size.

“I can’t stop.”

“It hurts.” Her breath was cool against my fevered flesh.

“Let me in.” I thrust again, gritting my teeth as a wash of pleasure shot into my balls.

Her mouth opened to scream again, but I clamped a hand over her lips, silencing her. Her cheekbones were stark, skin stretched with lust. Her eyes were so dark they mirrored my reflection, showing a man I didn’t recognise. A man who’d well and truly passed the boundary of right and wrong.

Then a drawn out keen of welcome vibrated in her chest.

My eyes snapped shut as her body gave in to me, stretching, inviting.

Fuck.

My hands fisted harder in her hair. The foreplay had drained us of everything. This would be hard, fast—bloodthirsty.

“I’m going to fuck you now, Nila.”

“Yes.” Her fingernails sliced deeper into my lower back as I thrust into her. I rammed inside over and over, balls-deep and buried. I wasn’t just fucking her body but her mind and soul, too.

She let me in everywhere.

She dropped everything, letting me bulldoze through her defences.

My heart bucked at the preciousness of what I held—the gift in which she gave. It fucking tore my innards out and turned me hollow.

The connection was too acute. Physically, spiritually. I’d never wanted to belong…always been an outcast and outsider, but between the legs of my Weaver Whore, I found….redemption, salvation.

She clamped around me, dragging a ragged groan from my chest. I ground my hips harder, deeper, faster.

We locked eyes.

I shouted at her silently.

Cursed her wordlessly.

You feel me inside you?

You feel me claiming you?

You feel me destroying you?

My muscles went rigid as her eyes recognised my message and shot one of their own.

You feel me around you?

You feel me undermining you?

You feel me making you care?

I slammed forward, drawing a primitive sound from her. “God, you—you feel…”

“What? What do you feel?” I growled.

“Good. Too good. I need—I need to come.”

You and me both.

I couldn’t do this anymore. I needed it over, so I could run and hide. So I could fix everything that was wrong with me. So I could find the man I’d been for fifteen fucking long years.

She made a helpless sound of need, grinding herself on my cock. We dripped with sweat, our skin slipping and slicking against each other, our lungs desperate for air.