His breathing hitched. His body shook.

No amount of armour or courage could’ve prepared me for Jethro coming apart.

Tell me what you’re dealing with.

Show me how to save you.

“It’s okay, Kite. It’s okay.” My voice was a steady metronome, granting acceptance in repetition. “I’m not leaving. It’s okay, Kite. It’s okay.”

His arms banded until my bones ached in his embrace.

Without a word, Jethro raised his head. One arm unwrapped, and his hand captured my chin, tilting my mouth to his.

Before I could breathe, his lips crashed over mine.

His touch was violent, harsh—all-consuming.

Need sprang sharp and fragrant. Desire hijacked my mind with such weight and demand, I buckled with it.

We spiralled together.

His fingers bruised and his tongue dived into my mouth, stealing my gasp and conjuring lust so brutal, I came alive and died all at the same time.

Together, we merged tighter. Jethro cushioned my head with his arm as he rolled me onto my back, covering my body with his. His hand drifted down my ribcage, branding me with every inch. His lips continued to dance with mine—our breathing harsh, tongues violent.

I cried out as his fingers captured my breast, pinching my nipple. My back bowed, forcing more of me into his hold.

He groaned, his breath losing its brokenness, becoming rapid with lust.

Desire swirled and demanded, giving us nowhere to hide.

I became instantly wet as he tugged the hem of my nightdress, shoving it over my hips. I wriggled as he fumbled between us, undoing his button and zipper. He grunted as he yanked his jeans and boxer-briefs down, only making it to mid-thigh.

His teeth pinched my bottom lip as he forced my knees to spread. His elbows dug into the covers, positioning himself higher.

We both cried out as his hard cock settled between my legs.

There was no foreplay, no preparation. We didn’t need it. We were too far gone—too terrifyingly open and desperate for connection. He angled the head of his cock and thrust.

I groaned into his mouth as his size blazed with tender agony.

He kissed me, slinking his tongue with mine, rocking his hips, using my wetness to spread me wider. He forced my body to yield and melt.

His tears continued to fall, trickling into my mouth and lacing his taste with salty pain. I imprisoned his cheeks, rubbing my thumbs in the dampness, hoping he understood how much I loved him.

That I was there for him.

Forever.

His breathing turned ragged, each exhale releasing soul-burning agony he’d carried all his life. With an arm around my shoulders, he reached down and clutched my hip, holding me firm.

He thrust harder, slipping past the final barrier and filling me completely. We sighed as that heavenly link slotted perfectly into place.

My body quivered around his. There was no warning. No anticipation. The moment he’d filled me, his rocking turned from questing to vicious.

Without his arm around my shoulders, I would’ve shifted upward with every brutal thrust. But he held me for his pleasure.

He used me.

We used each other.

We used passion to defeat pain. Wielded need to combat despair.

It would either heal us or break us, but there was no stopping the tsunami we rode.

“I’m sorry. So fucking sorry,” he mumbled into my hair. His tears had stopped, but his voice remained shaky.

His hips never stopped thrusting, driving us higher.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Sorry for making life so hard for you.”

He groaned, rocking faster.

Our minds switched from words to releases. We gave ourselves over to pleasure. Somewhere deep inside me, I let go. I floated upward, acknowledging that fate stole me from a life I thought I wanted, but that was never my true destiny.

He was.

Something slotted into place—bigger than a puzzle piece, more poignant than scripture or knowing.

It was the accumulation of fighting for something and finally earning it.

It was home.

Jethro pulled back, his jaw locked. His eyes burned as he rocked headfirst into a devouring tempo. I couldn’t look away. His body inside my body. His soul inside my soul.

I couldn’t contain the magic we sparked. “I need to tell you—how I feel…what this means.”

He shook his head, his lips grazing mine. “I know. I feel it, too.”

Tears leaked from my eyes as his mouth sealed tight. The wet heat of him and the scorching power of his cock splintered me in two.

There was no break or reprieve. Jethro fucked me, made love to me, and consumed me with no thought to us being watched or catalogued. Long, deep, dominating strokes dragged echoing moans.

Arching my hips, I rubbed my clit on the base of his cock. “More,” I begged. “Harder.”

He obeyed.

I couldn’t breathe, straining for an orgasm that would shatter me.

“Faster, deeper.”

He grunted, following my every command.

I’d never lived through something so intense.

It broke me.

It fixed me.

It stole. It gifted.

Devastating.

Rewarding.

Destroying.

Renewing.

“I’m going to fill you. I need to fill you,” Jethro groaned.

His voice whispered through my blood, setting fire to the gunpowder between my legs.

I came.

Spindles and shooting stars and spectacular bliss.

He swallowed my pleasure, his tongue diving in time with his erection.

“God, Nila.” Every emotion he’d kept hidden lashed around my name like a vow. “I love you.”