My legs stiffened as he took me ruthlessly, never stopping his angry thrusting.
I couldn’t control my body. I didn’t want to.
With a scream, I came so fucking hard I almost passed out with vertigo. Ecstatic spasms of bliss undid my world as surely as threads from gossamer. My mind fluttered like a flimsy ghost, deprived of itsold home—decimated by euphoria.
The room swam. I felt sick and overjoyed and ruined.
Jethro cupped my throat, linking his fingers through my diamond collar as his eyes shot black. His jaw locked as he witnessed me falling apart. I held his gaze, even though I wanted to look away and hide just how shattered I was.
I was possessed, enraptured.
Another wave of paradise shuddered through my core, making me jerk with spent muscles.
Jethro didn’t stop. The minute my pussy stopped clenching around him, he gave himself permission to follow. I moaned as his hips pounded unforgivingly into mine, punishing me with heavenly corruption.
The tip of his cock hit the top of me with every lunge, bruising me, ensuring I would feel the ache of his possession for days afterward.
With every thrust, he grew in size, throbbing hotter, thicker, harder, driving toward the finish he craved. His face etched with danger, his eyes positively beastly. His self-control was non-existent as he hurled himself over the edge.
He orgasmed with a primitive snarl of feral ecstasy, his release splintering him into pieces.
“Shit, shit, shit!” His voice echoed with ferocity and vulnerability at coming completely undone. Pulling out, he grabbed the base of his cock and fisted himself as ribbons of white liquid shot through the air and splattered against my pubic hair and lower belly.
His stomach rippled as spurt after spurt drained him, marking me with musky threads of semen.
Breathing hard, he looked down at the mess he’d made—the evidence of our betrayal to hatred, family, and debts.
We couldn’t deny what’d just happened.
It wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t just lust.
It was somethingmore.
I expected him to leave. To hate me.
But he folded over me, planting his slippery cock against my belly, smearing the now translucent mess until we stuck uncomfortably together.
My core cramped and trembled from such abuse, but I’d never felt so languid or tranquil.
Slowly, hesitantly, I brushed my lips across his, comforting him.
He didn’t say a word, nor did he kiss me back. His head fell forward, nuzzling his damp face into the curve of my neck.
I froze as his strong arms wrapped around me, crushing me against him.
Tears raced into being as my heart twisted and pulverised. I couldn’t handle him holding me like that—especially after what’d happened. I needed him to be cool and aloof if I had any chance at keeping my soul in one piece.
Liar.
It was already shredded, like shards in a breeze.
Jethro’s heart hammered against mine, beating hard, slowing its drumming the longer he held me.
We stayed like that for a long time. Too long. Both of us acknowledging wordlessly what we would never be able to do with conversation.
We were stripped. Naked. Exposed.
Woefully defenceless against each other.
