Jethro #2
My cock leapt from my trousers, rippling with need and sticky with pre-cum. Fisting the base, I rocked against her, desperately trying to find her entrance.
Her fingers clawed my shoulders, tugging me closer but holding me away at the same time. “Wait—wait—”
“I can’t wait.”
“But you were shot...you probably shouldn’t—” Her hands dropped, stroking my naked hips, digging her nails into my flesh. “Are you okay to do this?”
I kissed her again. “I’m going to show you how okay I am by making love to you.” I thrust against her.
She shook her head. “Wait!” Her attention shot to my torso, seeking wounds. I had no intention of taking my t-shirt off and showing her the bandage hiding the stitched area or mentioning my broken rib.
Didn’t she get it? None of that fucking mattered as she was the best painkiller around.
I’d never felt so good having her in my arms, trumping death, defeating the impossible.
“You argue with me again, and I’ll make you come apart over and over until you believe me.”
“But—”
“Stop it.” Pressing a finger over her lips, I silenced her. “Quiet.” The tip of my cock found her tight heat. “If you stop me from taking you, I’ll die. I’ll literally have a heart attack.”
Her head fell backward as I teased, hovering so close but not taking her.
Pushing up the tiniest bit, we trembled with pleasure.
My head bowed, pressing against the stall behind her as I did my best to stay in control.
My thighs bunched as every instinct bellowed to drive inside her.
“I need you so much I can scarcely breathe.”
Her emotions ran crazy, battering me from all directions.
Lust.
Fear.
Questions.
Love.
“Quit thinking so hard; you’re distracting me.” Looking into her eyes, I traced her cheek, soothing her rioting thoughts. “All I want to feel from you, Nila, is desire. All the other stuff...we can talk about it later.” I kissed her softly. “Now, be quiet, stop thinking, and let me fuck you.”
She shivered and obeyed.
Her emotions switched to one thought: wanting me to take her.
It would be my pleasure to comply.
Bending my legs, I drove upward.
Her back arched as I slid inside her liquid heat. Higher and higher, stretching her.
“God, Jethro—yes!”
I gathered her close, holding her tightly as I climbed deeper. Only once she fully encased me did I thrust.
Our lips glued together, and we rode each other.
It wasn’t rhythmic or sensual.
It was purely animalistic and primal.
“I won’t last—I can’t last.”
“I don’t care.” Her pussy tightened as I drove faster. “Just prove to me you’re alive.”
“That I can do.”
It didn’t take long.
My body had no endurance and time spent apart meant everything about Nila bewitched me into exploding far too fast.
With each thrust, the pleasure turned catastrophic; my balls tightened.
“Oh, fuck...” Lightning shards shot up my cock, spurting inside her. “Hell, yes.” Waves of release crippled me as I splashed inside the woman I wanted forever. I bit my lip as my legs seized, my cock impaling her over and over again.
The last spurt left me lightheaded, but it’d been the shortest, sharpest, and most rewarding orgasm I’d ever had.
“Goddammit, it’s good to see you.”
Having her in my arms, coming inside her, knowing we were together again, helped wipe away my worries and just be.
* * * * *
“Where’s Moth and Wings?”
Nila’s voice wrapped around my satisfaction, dragging me back to her. The chill of the stables faded thanks to the heat lamps I’d turned on above.
I rolled over to face her; my unbuckled belt and jeans clinked.
Somehow, after I’d orgasmed, we’d stumbled down the corridor of the stables and collapsed on top of one of the hay bales in a spare stall.
Nila had lost her shoes, and her black jacket was rumpled and dusty from rubbing against the wall but she’d never looked more beautiful.
She still hadn’t removed her hood though, and strange emotions trickled from her—hidden and quiet—scaring me more as minutes ticked past.
I was exceedingly aware of her every thought and also intimately mindful that Nila hadn’t come.
I mean to rectify that.
Her mind raced, sending flickers of ideas and questions in every direction. I let them wash over me, not wanting to focus on reality just yet.
This might be the only time we get to steal perfection like this before it’s over.
I meant to indulge as long as I could.
“They’re in the paddock behind the chase. If they’re not needed for regular riding, they’re turned out.”
She relaxed. “Oh, that’s good. I had a horrible thought that they might’ve hurt Wings—because you’re de—well...” She smiled. “...you were dead.”
Gathering her close, the sweet smell of clean hay threaded around us. “I still am dead according to my father. Kes, too.”
My forehead furrowed thinking of my brother.
He has to wake up. Being away from the hospital went against my desire to watch over him, but I had to trust that Doctor Louille knew what he was doing.
That eventually, once Cut was dead and things had been dealt with, Kes would wake up and I could rib him for sleeping through all the hard work.
Wake up, brother. Don’t leave me when we’re so close.
“How is he?”
I glanced at Nila. The simplistic beauty of her onyx eyes and sexy lips twitched my cock again.
“He’s still alive.” My voice hung in the stagnant quiet.
No horses were hobbled tonight—the dogs slept across the yard, and the witching hour gave us our own seclusion from reality, hiding us from nightmares.
Nila plucked at the plaid blanket that I’d placed over the hay bale. “Will he remain that way?”
My heart clenched. I hope so. “He will if he knows what’s good for him.”
She smiled but didn’t laugh, too full of melancholy to lighten the mood. There was no lightening the mood—not when a brother and friend was dying.
Changing the subject, I looped my fingers with hers. “Can I ask you something?”
She nodded slowly. “Of course.”
“Can you take off the hood? I want to see you. You’re in too much shadow.”
Instantly, her emotions scrambled. Fear drenched, followed by despair. Sitting up, she shook her head. “I’d prefer to keep it on. I’m cold.” To add value to her lie, she gathered her coat tightly and hugged herself.
I soared upright. “Bullshit. I know when you’re lying. Just like I knew you were lying in most of the texts you sent.”
Her shoulders hunched. Her hands went to either side of her hood, keeping it tight around her face.
Moving in front of her, I tugged on the black material. “Nila...take off the hood.”
“No.”
“Nila...” My voice dropped to a growl. “What are you hiding from me?”
Tears glassed her eyes.
My heart splintered. “Nila, please. I can’t stand it when you don’t tell me the truth.” My hands pulled again, fighting against her hold.
A single tear slipped down her face. “Please...don’t make me.”
My heart stopped beating.
“What happened to you? When I first saw you, you were almost dead inside. I feel you coming back to life, but something’s changed.” My voice turned heavy. “Please, Nila. Let me fix this. Whatever happened; let me try to help.”
More tears ran silently down her face. She looked away.
“I—I was weak. I gave in. I didn’t think I had anything left inside me.
” Her breath caught. “But then I saw you, and I remembered why I was fighting. You gave me purpose again. You reminded me that I’m still cared for and it’s my duty.
Not to stay alive for myself, but for you.
You’ve already helped, more than you know. ”
“Fuck...Nila...” My chest seized as her sadness crested over me. “What can I do to make this right?”
She smiled weakly. “You’ve already done it. I’m piecing myself back together. I’m better now. I’ve remembered who I am.” Her fingers tightened. “Just...please, don’t ask me to take off the hood.”
I couldn’t stand it. My temper thickened. “Take it off. I have to know.”
She shook her head.
“Don’t make me tear it off you. You have to show me. We’re in this together, remember? That means sharing our pain and telling the truth.”
Her shoulders hunched. She hesitated for too long. Finally, her head bowed. “Please...please don’t find me ugly.”
“What?” My air exploded. “Why would you ever ask such a thing?”
Sucking in a shaky breath, she let go of the hood.
My condition soaked up her thoughts—despair, pain, confliction, anger. But most of all, paralyzing hopelessness. My soul pulverised as I slowly slipped off the shadowy material and saw what she’d tried to hide.
I couldn’t speak.
I couldn’t think.
All I could do was stare and fill with such fury, such motherfucking hate, that tears sprang to my eyes.
She couldn’t look at me, her shoulders hunched dejectedly. “I—I—” She gave up, hiding her face in her hands and letting go of her sadness.
Her stunning hair had been replaced with multiple different lengths and shapes. The bedraggled strands cascaded over her hands.
They would pay. They will fucking pay for this.
Trembling with rage, I gathered her to me, crushing her in my arms. “Those fucking bastards.”
She turned in my embrace, wrapping her arms around me, crying silently into my neck. I stroked her back, her neck, the scruffy locks of hair. It felt so different, so strange.
That was what was so wrong. Why she felt so peculiar.
Her courage had been stripped, just like her beautiful hair.
I have to fix this.
I had no idea how, but I couldn’t let her suffer.
Letting her go, I stalked to the end of the stable and grabbed a pair of scissors from the tack room. Stalking back, I sat behind her on the hay bale and without a word, brushed out the tatty strands with my fingers and kissed her neck.
With silence heavy between us, I snipped the mismatched ends.
I poured my love and commitment into her with every cut, sacrificing myself for every strand I snipped.