I HAD NO words for what I was doing.
Seriously, no words.
Part of me hated myself for being drawn to Jethro even now—especially after he’d hunted me down and punished me like some animal. But the other part—the bigger part—loved the woman I was becoming. I didn’t have anyone to rely on. I had no one saying what was right or wrong. The rules of everyday life had no place in this new existence, and if Jethro thought I would play byhisrules, he was a fucking idiot.
His erection leapt in my hands, hot and scalding—the only part of him warm.
His golden eyes were blank of all feeling, and for one blessed moment, he stared at me with lust. Only lust.
Then anger saturated him, his fingers latching around my invading wrist. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
I tugged the waistband of his boxer-briefs with my free hand, twisting my other from his grip, and sliding my fingers into the dark heat of his underwear. He locked his jaw as I traced the length of his cock.
“I’m paying you back. This is what you had in mind, right? An orgasm for an orgasm?”
He growled low in his chest, his eyes narrowing with hate and need.
Don’t lie to me, you bastard.
He opened his mouth, but no words came out. I squeezed himhard—hard enough to cause shooting pains in my palm.
He jerked in my hold. “Jesus.”
That one word switched the rage splashing my insides into lust-blazing gasoline. The hardness of him sent electricity humming in my fingertips. The anger brimming below the surface turned my insides into hot liquid.
This.
This power.
This body-consuming connection.
It was pure.
Simple.
Intoxicating.
The whipping he’d given me hadn’t made me wet. I’d never associated pain with pleasure. Sure, I’d read the books and heard rumours about how exciting a BDSM relationship could be with someone you trusted implicitly, but that was the key difference.
I didn’t trust Jethro.
At all.
This was a battle.
Every time we touched, licked, and eventually fucked, it would be war.
And only one victor would come out alive.
I have every intention of winning.
Sex to me didn’t come with past perceptions or notions. Sex wasn’t wrapped up with love or sweetness in my brain. In a way, I had my father to thank for keeping me secluded and untouched. I’d uncovered an aptitude for delivering pleasure—an affinity for the basest of need.
I trembled, glowing so damn bright inside, I felt as if I’d swallowed the stars.
Jethro wanted me.
He couldn’t deny it. He didn’t want to deny it.
