CAPTURED: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys(152)

The reasons for our fight flew away on soundless wings, leaving me with no argument against the swelling swollen ache.

"All that separates my cock from your pussy is a few fragile pieces of  clothing." He drove upward, grinding himself punishingly. "You won't  stop me." There was no space, no secrets-our bodies glued together.

My mind went blank with sheer-numbing pleasure. I felt every ridge and  contour of him. From the pressure of his shoe against mine to the hot  heat in his jeans growing larger every second.

You know what he intends to do. Stop this, I screamed at my betraying  body. But it replied in force with a clenching ripple, turning my legs  to jelly.

I held my breath. His hard body was as unmovable as the wall I stood trapped against. His ripped stomach pressed against mine.

I wasn't cushy or curvy. I had no feminine attributes-I'd exercised away any hope at softness.

But it only amplified the intensity.

There was nothing to cushion the firmness of bones and sinew and craving flesh. It was visceral. All consuming.

"Tell me again you're not wet for me." His hooded eyes imprisoned mine. "Tell me another lie."

I tried to look away, but he thrust again, enticing another ripple of  pleasure. I hadn't planned on being the innocent girl. The stuck-up  princess who never self-pleasured or enjoyed men. I hated that I came  across priggish, uptight, and repressed. Those traits were a hazard of  my upbringing, and I desperately wanted to turn them into weapons.

I wanted to use them as effortlessly as Jethro wielded his wintery charisma.

My body knew what it wanted. It wanted a release. It wanted to satiate  and be sated. And it didn't give a flying arse who granted the freedom  of the mysterious orgasm. I knew who Jethro was-I knew this was all a  game to him. But why couldn't two people play? Why did I have to justify  his touch as bad when it was so amazingly good?

Death was coming. Shouldn't I try to live before I died?

Shouldn't I embrace the lack of control by throwing away my submissive behaviour and fight for what I wanted?

For once in my life.

Be true and honest and raw.

Why can't I use him? Just once be the bad girl and use the monster. Win by not fighting. Be stronger by giving in.

My pussy grew bolder, taking my unvoiced permission and growing wet,  greedy, eager to experience the cock pressed firmly against me.

I … can't.

You can.

I … won't.

You will.

Jethro ducked, nipping my jaw with sharp teeth.

I unlocked my chastity belt, and melted into him. I arched my back, deliberately pressing my breasts against his chest.

His seduction lost the calculating edge, his breath went from calm to uneven.

Something new broke free inside. Some level of embarrassment of sex-the  unapproved thoughts of being used-disappeared. I was a business woman. A  daughter. A sister. The fantasies inside weren't the thoughts of a  puritan.

Deep inside, where I never let myself go, a sexual deviant lurked. A  woman who was bold and angry. A woman beyond ready to admit she'd hidden  so much of herself-even from herself.

Jethro's hand moved to grab the back of my neck. His hips pulsed; his heart thudded hard, vibrating our tightly pressed forms.

I shivered in his hold, giving in completely to the clench between my legs.

"Answer me. Tell me the truth." His mint-fresh breath fluttered my  eyelashes as he hovered possessively over my lips. Only a tiny space  between a tease and a kiss. Only a fraction between right and wrong.

Do it. Accept it.

He paused, murmuring into my mouth, "Tell me a secret. A dirty, dark  secret. Admit you want me. Admit you want your mortal enemy."

I admit it.

"I won't." My heartbeat switched from thumping to humming; my skin prickled with heat.

I hated him. I wanted to kill him before he killed me. But I couldn't  ignore the overwhelming attraction he'd created. And it wasn't just me  affected. His breathing turned ragged; his fingers dug deeper with need.  Every pulse of his hips drew a quickening in my core. I couldn't  control it. I didn't want to control it. I was done controlling my life.

I'm free.

The longer we stood, the further we blurred the lines between debtor and  debtee. Weaver and Hawk. In that tiny moment, we were each other's  answer to freedom. A mind-blistering coupling that would surely ruin me  for life. But at least I would've lived.

I looked deep into Jethro's burning eyes, transmitting everything I  suffered. I hate you for making me acknowledge this part of myself.

His face tightened; his body slammed harder against mine. Whispering his  lips over my cheek, bringing them low, lower, lower, the tip of his  tongue tasted the corner of my mouth.

My world disintegrated with an ecliptic bang.

I trembled, eyes snapping closed on their own accord.

His hand on my hip shot downward, disappearing between our bodies.         

     



 

I gasped, jolting in his hold as his fingers scrunched up my dress,  shoving it out of the way as if it were nothing. My gasp turned to a  ragged moan as he cupped me bold and strong. My gaze flew wide, locking  onto his.

Never had something felt so good. So bad. So intensely delicious.

His gold eyes turned to a burnt sunset, filling with fire as he fingered  my knickers. "Do you think you're so perfect you wouldn't scream my  name? Do you think you'd be able to say no if I dragged you into the  kennel and fucked you?" His fingers bit into my pussy, hot and  punishing. "Because I want to. Fuck, how I want to. I want your screams.  I want you begging."

I lost myself completely, throwing myself into this new creation. The  one who had the power to do this and still retain her heart. The one who  would give Jethro her body because she wanted it. Not him.

His fingers scattered my thoughts, probing against the thin satin of my  underwear. His touch was electrifying. I wanted more. I wanted  everything.

I stepped off the cliff. "No. I'm not so perfect. And yes, I would  scream." Clawing at his shoulders, I forced myself deeper onto his hand.  "You think I'm immune? You think I'm dry and repulsed by you?" Dragging  him closer, I murmured, "You couldn't be more wrong."

Jethro's nostrils flared. His fingers twitched as he narrowed his eyes. "You think you can confuse me?"

I pressed a finger against his mouth. "Shut up."

His eyes popped wide; he growled low in his chest. His lips pulled back, revealing sharp teeth.

I didn't remove my finger. I was in charge. I was the one taking. "My  heart hates you, but my body … .I'm drenched. I'm begging. So stop your  endless questions. Stop taunting me and deliver."

Kite flew into my mind, then was gone. I'd surpassed awkward sexting, embracing physical coyness.

The world paused for a millisecond.

Jethro sucked in a shocked breath. Then his hand left my pussy, tore the  small stitches holding my knickers in place, and drove one finger so  damn deep inside me, I did what I said I would.

I screamed.

My head fell back, smashing against the wall. My heart exploded into a mess of passion and rage.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

My mouth sucked in air, but it didn't stop the swirling, blinding need  stealing my remaining sanity, giving me completely and utterly to  Jethro. I cried inside. I wailed inside. I wished I could be different.  Someone not so deprived of her animalistic needs. Someone who could  scream and call for help. Not someone who tilted their hips and moaned  at the curses spilling from Jethro's lips. Not someone who gripped the  man who tore her from her world and opened her legs wider.

But then Jethro touched a spot that made my eyes pop wide, muscles to  lock, and a need so violent to seize, I grabbed his wrist, forcing him  to take me harder. My tears turned to joy, writhing on Jethro's hand.

"Fuck. Me." His voice was sex-gruffed and so low it echoed over  cobblestones. "Who the fuck are you?" His finger worked me, pulsating  deep inside.

I melted in his hands. I opened my legs as wide as I could. I gave up on  everything, embracing the simplicity of being a sexually starved  creature.

This wasn't making love. This wasn't even fucking. This was war. And hell it felt good.

Digging my fingernails into his shoulders, I jerked him closer. "Harder," I breathed.

Jethro groaned, and in a twist of fate-obeyed. His finger drove so deep  his knuckles nudged against my swollen flesh. His thumb swirled around  my clit, smearing wetness, taking me to ever new heights.

I turned to stone before detonating into tiny pieces. Every inch of my  thoughts, emotions, and reactions were stolen by his mind-blowing touch.  I hadn't felt anything like it.

Guilt tried to claim me, reminding me this was the man who ruined my  life. But lust quickly devoured the guilt, turning it to raging passion.

"You're so fucking tight," he growled, thrusting his finger harder.

I felt as if I'd not been living. As if my world was dark and Jethro was the sun bringing me nutrition I never knew I needed.

A painful pressure burned as he tried to fit two fingers inside me.

I flinched, rocking my hips away. "Stop-"

He paused, then removed the second digit, driving a single finger deep,  dragging me back to willing. "You're a virgin. The rumours were true."