I rocked and thrashed and screamed.
I screamed for Jethro. For our future. For every day of our lives unwritten.
“Fuck.” Jethro’s five o’clock shadow sandpapered my inner thighs as he granted me such a delicious release. “Again.”
Every inch of me burned and tingled. “There’s no way.”
Jethro took my denial as a challenge. “There is a way.” He blew hot air over my swollen pussy. The warm breeze did nothing to temper raw and throbbing nerves.
My legs trembled to close. I wanted to rest. I needed to rest.
The tip of his tongue licked my folds, granting tenderness after a feral finishing. “You will come again. You’ll come as many times as I command. After all, tonight is our wedding night, and I love watching you come apart. I love knowing I bring you pleasure. I love hearing you pant and moan. I love the way your cunt clutches my fingers as if afraid I’d ever leave you.”
His three fingers slowly moved in and out of me, spreading my wetness, forcing my body to spindle into another climb.
He didn’t rush me this time, taking every second and stretching them until my satedness gave way to hunger. The steady gathering made me breathless, my body tightening and quickening under his erotic conducting.
“Come for me.”
My toes curled as he increased his pressure, but I wanted something more.
“I can’t…I need—”
“What do you need?”
I rocked my hips, giving myself over to the creature he’d made me. “I need your cock. I need you riding me. I need to feel you claim me completely.”
His teeth nipped my clit, a rumbling growl spilling from his mouth.
“I need you to come with me, Kite.”
In an effortless move, he leapt from knees to feet. His cock was a javelin, proud and hard, while his slacks hung precariously on his hips.
His face set into a sexual scowl; his eyes demonic with need as his fingers grabbed my arse and arched my spine. His features set into stone, skin lashed over bone far too handsome for my heart. His golden eyes glowed with grey shadows, dilating with the need to break all boundaries, embrace every want and no longer limit himself with control.
He’d made me come. He’d ensured my body would accept his size with no hardship. He wouldn’t hold back.
I didn’t want him to hold back.
My mind segmented. Part of me paid attention to this incredible man about to fuck me and part turned animalistic. Spreading my legs, I welcomed him closer.
The bed jerked as his knees hit the edge. I went to scoot higher so he could climb on, but he stopped me, yanking my hips upward.
“No. Like this.”
With gritted teeth, Jethro bent his knees, and in a seamless move, the tip of his cock found my drenched entrance.
My gaze riveted to his fully clothed body. The sheers of my pantyhose wrapped around his hips, the crumpled silk of his white shirt and the diamond pin glinting on his blazer.
Our eyes locked as he slipped inside me.
My mouth fell open as his immense length hit the top of me and stretched me wider than any finger.
I shivered; goosebumps sprouting as he sheathed himself balls deep. So possessing, he stole any remembrance of who I was.
Staring into his eyes, I knew he would take me hard and fast. My fingers clutched the sheets, preparing myself for how he would use me.
When he didn’t move, I licked my lips, rocking my hips a little.
His head fell back, the tendons in his neck stark and tense. “Christ…”
“Fuck me, Kite.” I moved again, enticing him to take. “I want you to fuck me.”
Anticipation hovered like a curtain waiting to be shredded.
Temper swelled and I wrapped my legs tighter around his hips. “Fuck me, Jethro. Fuck me. Please, fuck—”
He didn’t let me finish. Pulling out, he slammed back inside, penetrating in one fierce thrust.
I gasped as shooting stars arched out from where we joined. The connection was far too intense. Far too deep and demanding. He was so big, so hard, so so deep.
He’d taken me with everything. Nothing bared. I’d never felt him so open, so completely controlled but treasured at the same time.
Jethro’s domination of my heart and body exploded my desire until I begged for another release. I needed another orgasm, and I needed it while we were both raw and wounded by love.
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 dest
iny 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.
And today, all that hard work had come to fruition.
My heart burst as roses spewed from all around us, kissing our feet.
Nila clung to my forearm, breathing hard, combating any vertigo spell she might endure.
I’d done my best to find a cure for her. I’d scoured website after website, consulted doctor after doctor. Some said it was an iron deficiency, so I stocked her up on vitamins and minerals. Some said the brain would eventually cease granting dizzy spells as it grew to equalize. However, seeing as she’d had it all her life, I didn’t see that happening.
The best solution I’d found so far were a series of exercises called the Canalith technique. It helped, but hadn’t fixed her.
But we had time, and I wouldn’t stop trying.
For now, I would be her anchor, holding her close in a sea of tilting worlds.
“They adore you, Needle.”
Her face met mine, painted with camera flashes. “They adore the collection. Not me.”
I shook my head, looking over the carpet of journalists, photographers, and celebrities.
Fashionistas and reporters from all over the world had come to witness Nila’s Rainbow Diamond Collection. The collection she’d started when she’d stood naked on Hawksridge lawn about to run for her life through the forest.
She’d told me being naked that day and wearing only diamonds had given her the strength to run. It’d also been the inspiration to create her best showpieces and couture designs yet. Her brand, Nila, graced not just the high fashion world but shops and local department stores, too.
I’m so fucking proud of her.
Tonight, she hadn’t shared the limelight with any boutique or label. The entire two-hour production had been piece after piece she’d created at Hawksridge and a few pieces she’d saved from Bonnie’s wardrobe made courtesy of Emma and her ancestors. Those vintage pieces were heralded as a fashion comeback and the words ‘Victorian lace’ and ‘crinoline skirts’ wafted on the warm air inside the theatre.
“You did it. Be proud.” I nuzzled into her neck. My teeth ached to bite, but I restrained myself. Tonight. Tonight, I would bite her and show her just how fucking proud I was.
“I couldn't have done it without you.” She leaned into my embrace, bringing her scent of vanilla and orchid perfume.
“That’s not true, but thank you all the same.” I kissed her ear, careful not to disrupt the intricate up-do Jasmine had helped her with. The past few weeks had flown by and the shorter cut I’d given her in the stables had grown, thick and glossy—the perfect length to fist while her mouth fitted around my cock.
I hardened, remembering her swirling tongue last night.
We’d arrived two days ago in Milan—in the very same theatre where I’d stolen her all those months ago.
Time had its own strange irony.
I’d ended her life in this place.
And yet she’d come back to life here, too.
A year ago, I’d come to steal her from the limelight and prevent anyone from enjoying her creations. Now, I shared her with those who valued her skills and fought each other for the prestige of wearing her art.
All around us stood the models from tonight’s show. The Rainbow Diamond collection truly was spectacular. Pastels, pinks, purples, teals, yellows—an array of fabrics Nila had educated me on and cuts and gathers and fancy needlepoint she’d explained every time she worked.
Standing beside her, I couldn’t for the life of me remember a single stitch’s name. All I could remember was how much I loved her and how stunning she was in a gown made of bewitching smoke.
Obviously, it wasn’t smoke but silk and tulle and any number of materials she forced me to recall. But the panels of midnight down her tiny waist and the glitter of black beads down the front made her the crown of the show, the black diamond of her empire.
Every time she swished in front of me, I wanted to throw my tuxedo jacket over her shoulders to hide the scrumptious line of her spine and the swell of her arse below.
I appreciated the skill and design of the dress, but I didn’t appreciate the way men gawked at my wife.
One of the boutique shops that’d already bid at auction and won Nila’s new collection climbed on the stage and presented her with a bouquet of white roses. The dark-skinned man kissed her cheek, smiled at me, and faced the audience to reinvigorate the clapping.
For once, I didn’t mind being in a crowd this size. Not because Nila was beside me and I’d become accustomed to tuning into her thoughts when in a gathering such as this, but because everyone had one focus: impressed awe.
Nila waved at the cameras, bowed—hiding the little wobble by digging her fingernails into my cuff—and turned to leave.
Not so fast.
I held her a second longer. I wanted to bask in the moment. I wanted to absorb every thought and feeling because tonight was special for Nila but special for me, too.
Tonight was my thirtieth birthday.
I’d made it.
Nila wasn’t beheaded, her body wasn’t rotting on the moor with her ancestors, and I wasn’t dead at the hands of my father.
We’d turned evil into benevolence and lived a life worthy of deserving.
“Come on, it’s time to go.” She tugged on my hold, swaying in her stupidly high heels.
I cupped her elbow, turning her to face me. Unfortunately for her, she couldn’t keep surprises and I knew tonight she’d already planned a birthday party for me. I didn’t know where or what it would entail but I felt her excitement at surprising me and her enjoyment at celebrating such a huge milestone. A milestone we both feared would never come to pass.
However, there was something else, too.
Something
she guarded and protected. Something that meant a great fucking deal to her and she hadn’t told me.
For the past couple of weeks, I thought it was the collection. The fact she’d finished the entire wardrobe of twenty three dresses and other apparel was a huge feat.
But now…now, I knew it wasn’t that because the secret still glowed bright inside her.
Nila looked once more at freedom, sensing my determination to make her tell me. I hadn’t meant to trap her on the runway and force her to spill in front of the world of fashion. But where else was she the most vulnerable?
I held her up. I kept her imbalance at bay. The least she could do was—
“I have a secret and I can’t keep it any longer.” Nila sighed, fighting a smile. Camera flashes continued to go off along with the stray rose thrown as the models paraded one last time behind us.
I let out a breath. About bloody time. “I thought as much.” Bending my knees, I stared directly into her eyes. “You’ve done a good job at hiding it from me.”
I froze as she raised her hand, brushing aside my salt and pepper hair, showing the world the utmost affection between us. We were private in that respect. After the Vanity Fair article at our wedding, we avoided all mention and interviews.
I sucked in a breath as she cupped my neck, bringing me closer. “You haven't been able to guess?”
I shook my head, my hair mixing with hers. “No.” I let myself dive deeper into her thoughts, searching for the answer to her hoarded truth. Her emotions were murky, mixed with bone-deep contentment and a sense of quiet achievement for all that she’d done tonight.
She swayed a little in my arms. “Is this truly the first time you can’t guess? You don’t know what I’m about to say?” Her lips pursed. “Because I already know you figured out my surprise about your birthday party tonight.”
I laughed. My body relaxed, melting into her the more we spoke. I forgot where we were. I ignored the thousand other thoughts and human psyches. It was just us. Needle and me.
My wife.
“Instead of teasing, how about you put me out of my misery?”
Her eyes glittered, mimicking the diamonds around her throat. “I rather like having a secret for once. I think I might enjoy it a little longer.”
Indebted Epilogue Page 4