CAPTURED: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys(153)

I shook my head. "No."

"No?" He grabbed my chin, holding me firm, driving his finger harder. I  cried out, letting my head loll on my useless neck with bliss. "How are  you this tight and not a virgin?"

"Once. I only-" I stopped, consumed with every pulse of Jethro's finger. "I'm-"

I gave up.

I was completely illiterate-unable to form words.

"If you're not a virgin, prove it." His fingers tightened around my chin. "Pull out my cock."

My mind blanked out. I hung onto the precipice of my good girl ways  before throwing myself head first into a woman who would do anything to  feel alive.

"Pull out my cock, Ms. Weaver." He thrust against me, battering me with the hardness in his jeans.

My eyes flared wide. My stomach hollowed out at the same time it swooped upright as he thrust his finger.

"Goddammit," he growled. "Do it. I'm not going to come in my fucking jeans like an idiot."

Would he fuck me? If I took out his cock, would he take me?

Sex? With him?

I …

I couldn't have sex with him. This cold-hearted monster. But my raging heart and bubbling blood said yes. God, yes.

Shutting off my thoughts, I dropped my hands from his shoulders and fumbled with the buckle of his crocodile belt.

The hardness of his erection burned my fingertips. Jethro didn't help my  concentration, driving his touch deeper. "Hurry up. I need your sweet  fingers jerking me off. Goddammit, I don't know-" His voice cut off as I  undid his button and zipper.

I gasped as his cock sprang out, escaping the top of his grey  boxer-briefs. He shuddered, groaning in relief. The tip glistened with  wetness, slightly red, slightly swollen.

My eyes grew wide, fear chasing away the lust in my veins. I looked up, swallowing hard. "You're … I can't-"

He scowled. "Too late to back out now, woman." Grabbing my hand, he  placed it roughly around his thick, hard massive cock. I had no  experience to go on, but he would never fit inside me. He wouldn't fit  inside any woman.

"Shut up and stroke me."

I opened my mouth, unable to form words. "It can't-there's no way-"

In a lightning fast move, he jerked his finger from my core, smearing my  dampness on my cheek as he pinched me hard. "You're out of excuses, Ms.  Weaver. You were the one who started this. You're the one who rode my  fucking finger as if you'd never come before." His voice dropped to a  dark whisper. "So shut up, wrap those little fingers around my cock and  stroke me, otherwise I swear to God I'll throw you on your hands and  knees and fuck your tight little cunt right here."

My heart lurched; terror pinged in my blood. There wouldn't be anything  erotic about that. It would hurt. He would split me in two.

Biting my lip, I cupped the exposed head, spreading the sticky residue  at the top down his hot shaft. Locking eyes with Jethro, I pushed my  hand into his boxers, following his long, long length.

His eyes snapped closed as my timid fingers latched round him.  "Fuuuuck," he groaned. His forehead smashed against mine, hips pulsating  into my hand. "Stop taunting me. Harder, goddammit."

That was asking for the impossible. I couldn't get my fingers to connect  around his girth. My grip was useless around the throbbing heat-the  only hot part of him. Holding my breath, I wrapped my hold as hard as I  could.

Jethro grunted. "Squeeze it. Stop being a fucking tease. Was I teasing  you?" His hand suddenly disappeared up my dress again, his middle finger  thrusting so hard and quick inside me, he sent a galaxy of stars  exploding behind my eyes.

Then he glided upward, smearing the wetness around my clit. My legs  tried to scissor closed; all my attention shot between my legs.

I went rigid. Having him touch me inside was amazing. Having him rub that small bundle of nerves was incredible.

"Return the favour, Ms. Weaver. Make me come. Right here. Right now. And  I'll drive you so wild you'll beg and never want anyone else."

Coming. The blissful end of sex. Was that what the sharp sensation was?  Growing tighter and tighter in my core? If it was, I wanted to come.

Badly.

Winding my fingers as tight as possible around his girth, I squeezed  until a jagged pain erupted down my palm. I didn't have the strength. I  didn't know what to do. Did I just squeeze and let him thrust into my  hand? What else was I supposed to do?

With a low growl, Jethro stopped stroking my clit. He turned to granite. "That's your idea of making me come?"

I swallowed, jerking my hand away, dropping my eyes. The thrill of being  touched and touching faded, rapidly replaced with despair.  "I'm-yes … uh."

"For fuck's sake." Rolling his eyes, he removed his hand from between my  legs and stepped back. With a grunt, he yanked his trousers back into  place, but not before I caught a glimpse of just how huge his cock was.  It was flawlessly straight, veiny, silky, so proud and rigid-just like  its owner.         

     



 

It terrified me.

I didn't need to be a virgin or a world renowned slut to know there was  no way he would fit inside me. No law on this planet would make me  welcome his size.

"Fuck, what was I thinking? You're useless. Completely fucking useless."  Buckling his belt, he ran his hands through his hair, smearing the  lingering wetness from me through his silvering strands. "Huge  disappointment, Ms. Weaver." His cold glare sent a snowstorm wiping away  the bonfire in my belly. "I'm done playing games, so cut the bullshit.  Time to begin the day." His voice gave no room for interpretation. A  cold draft shot down my back.

My brief reprieve from debts and horrible Hawks was over. I'd been shown  something I desperately wanted, but was denied it because I failed to  please him.

"You could teach me … show me how … " I couldn't make eye contact with him.  Mortification painted my cheeks for both admitting I was clueless and  asking a monster to coach me.

Jethro laughed. "You think that will save you from what's coming? Was  that your little plan? To make me fuck you in the hopes I might feel  something for you?" He shook his head. "I'm not teaching you  anything-especially how to jerk me off. As you told me once-Google that  shit-but it won't do you any good, because next time … I won't need your  hand to come."

My breath caught in my throat.

My heart hung heavy and I shivered. The sun crept behind a cloud, leaving us in haunting shadows.

Jethro stood glaring, the outline of his erection visible in his jeans.  But there was no hint of the lust he'd suffered, or the passion that  blazed between us only seconds before. His unfeeling eyes burned a hole  straight into my soul, condemning me for my past treasons and present  failures. The longer he stared, the more he undermined my carefully  built fortress.

I couldn't stand the intensity any longer. The humiliation of standing  there unwanted, slightly used, and entirely frustrated. With shaking  hands, I smoothed down my dress and pushed away from the wall. Without a  word, I flicked my hair over my shoulder and skirted around him. With  confident steps, I left him behind, heading toward the manor.

He'll chase. He'll hunt.

I expected to land on my face from a carefully planned strike. I waited  for vertigo to steal my quiet assurance and spiral me to the ground. But  nothing happened.

Jethro didn't pounce, and I didn't fall.

I was steady for the first time in my life. My body behaved.

My world continued even though I'd been thrown off my axis and into a  brand new realm. A realm where sex beckoned like the Holy Grail and my  self-hatred magnified a thousand fold.

My empty stomach threatened to steal the remaining strength in my limbs,  but I kept going, ignoring my body's protests, walking like a good  little pet to the slaughter.

I didn't think I was about to enjoy my penance of being a Weaver.

Balling my hands, I made a promise. A promise I hoped would grant me strength for the coming days.

They can't touch me. I'm not Nila or Threads. I'm done being weak.

My heart swelled as I crested the hill, staring at Hawksridge Hall in  all its glory. In that moment, I shed my kitten baby-fur and embraced a  new pelt. One that filled me with fight. One that embraced the  elongating claws I'd begun to grow.

I was no longer protected by tigers but forced to become one.

I'm Needle, and I will survive.





CONTROL.

I loved it.

I wielded it.

I owned it.

But that little Weaver whore broke my control, turning me into nothing  more than a sex-driven idiot. She'd made me throw my decorum, calmness,  and carefully laid plans out the goddamn window.

Her timid fingers. Her fluttering breaths. They'd been more of a turn on  than the most experienced of lovers. She was so fucking pure she choked  on a halo.

And to fucking ask me to teach her? Granting me power by evolving this virginal creature into anything I damn well wanted?

It was temptation.

It was not fucking permitted.

She was mine to take from. Mine to share.

I refused to train her, because in the end I would be the one delivering  the killing blow. She wouldn't succeed in dragging me into whatever  game she played.