My eyes flew open behind my blindfold. I didn’t understand.
What does he mean?
He pressed his cock against my arse, rocking seductively. He whispered, “Pretend I’m hurting you. Cry out. Scream.”
What?
“Do it,” he hissed.
What the hell is going on? My body wound tight, growing wet against my wishes. My eyes were blinded, wrists tied, and my mind a mess with confusion.
“Cry, Nila. Otherwise, I’ll have to make you cry for real.” He pinched my clit, throbbing the bundle of nerves.
I jerked in his arms. More tears escaped. It wasn’t hard to cry. It was a relief to complain—to verbalize how much I wanted this to end.
“Stop!”
If he wanted me to beg like a rape victim, I would. He’d given me permission to fight back, even if it was only vocal.
I’ll make your eardrums bleed.
I thrashed, rubbing our bodies together and drawing a ragged groan from him. “Fuck you!”
He grunted as I tried to kick his kneecaps. “Get off me, you asshole.”
“Not anger, goddammit. Pain!” He fisted my hair, yanking my head back. “Be in pain, begging. Forget about fighting.”
That was asking the impossible. I could hate and curse and scream. But plead? It was blasphemy.
“If you want to get through tonight without being fucked in every hole you own, then do it!”
Images of Cut pounding into me, of Daniel strangling me, and the horrific violation of being a Hawk plaything gave me enough obedience to give up my courage and beseech. “Please! No, you’re hurting me!”
“Good.” He bit my ear, pinning me harder against him. “Again, louder this time.”
“Noooo!” I gave into the sobs waiting just beneath my ribcage. “Don’t. I’ll do whatever you want. Just, don’t—no!”
He groaned, rocking harder against me. “Shit, that’s too good. Now I’m hard as fuck.”
He rolled his hips, rubbing his erection, making the bed rock.
“Again.” He thrust, groaning theatrically. “More. Pretend I’ve entered you and it hurts.”
I couldn’t speak through my tears.
His fingers stroked me faster, making my body twitch and tense. His hips worked harder, bruising my back. His voice licked my ear. “I’m not going to fuck you, Nila. But it needs to look like I am.”
Suddenly—it all made sense.
That’s why he put the cover over us. That’s why he wanted me to move and squirm and scream, so our movements would look like he fucked me.
Oh, my God.
The sheer relief made me cry harder. And with relief came the performance of a lifetime. My fingers stretched behind me, rubbing his chiselled belly in acknowledgement. The trust that’d tried to grow in the past sprouted into a beautiful flower. I gave myself over to this second-born Hawk, who was a true ally and friend.
“No!” I bellowed. “God, no!”
I arched my back, deliberately pressing into his cock.
He growled, his hands latching around my hips, half to hold me in place and half to drag me back to meet him thrust for thrust.
We lost ourselves as we became what others would see.
“Fuck, you feel good, little bitch!” he yelled, his volume way louder than required.
Cameras. Microphones. Recording devices that would capture this degrading act. It was all for the people watching.
My heart burned. Is Jethro watching?
The anger I felt toward him only spurred me on.
Kes wrapped his hand around my nape, holding me away from him while his other hand found my clit again. “Fuck, yes. Take it. Fuck, you’re tight.”
He paused, waiting like any good actor for his fellow screen star to read her script.
“Ahh! No more. Please, no more!”
“You’ll take it until I say fucking otherwise, bitch.”
We both groaned as he thrust so hard the boundary between faking and reality became blurred.
My legs scissored as he rolled me from my side to halfway on my belly. His next thrust slipped, sliding between my legs and pressing against my clit.
We both jolted.
“Fuck me,” he hissed. His muscles trembled.
I froze.
We were so close to breaking every rule between loyalty and decency.
He bit my ear. “Don’t stop. Pretend, I’m ripping you in two. Scream harder. Just—don’t stop making them believe.”
My body hummed, growing wetter and heavier. I didn’t know if it was the pantomime or relief, but my nipples tingled and sensation came back with full force. “Stop! No. It’s too much. Nooooo!”
He pressed his forehead against my skull. “You’re driving me insane, Nila.” Louder, he growled, “Little bitch. I’ll teach you a lesson about your place. I’ll show you what tonight is all about.”
I let go of dignity and bawled. My cheeks rivered with tears; the blindfold was drenched. I stopped trying to talk in sentences and settled for monosyllables instead. “No!”
Thrust.
“Stop.”
Rock.
“I’m begging—”
He groaned, bending my body until I slotted perfectly in his strong embrace.
I couldn’t ignore his hardness or the way his muscles vibrated with need. In that moment, he was a saint. A man with a tied-up woman rubbing against his body and not using her. My trust layered with respect. He was good. He was kind. He was true.
We both panted as we turned frantic. There was no rhythm anymore—only debasing fake-fucking, rustling sheets, and creaking springs. As much as I despised what tonight represented, I couldn’t help the tiny flutter of desire unfurling thanks to his never-ending coaxing fingers.
Unfounded hurt crept over me.
Jethro hadn’t tried to stop this. He’d run.
But Kestrel had stepped up to protect me. He put his own life on the line.
That’s more than Jethro’s ever done.
My heart twisted in a resentful agonising braid. I didn’t want to sleep with Kes. But in a way…I was almost offended that he had the self-restraint to keep me safe even from him.
I was baffled.
I was endlessly grateful.
He was turned on. He’d admitted he’d wanted me since setting eyes on me…yet he made no move to dip his fingers inside me or try to work his cock anywhere but between my thighs.
The bed rocked with every thrust. My back arched as his fingers turned harder and demanding. For non-sex, it gave the ultimate impression of being ridden and used.
Sickness rolled inside to think of Jethro watching this.
But then anger slapped the nausea away.
He should’ve been the one to stop this. If only he’d given up trying to fit in and realised that he would never be the man his father wanted. If only he could see the truth.
Now, it’s too late.
“Scream,” Kes whispered.
“Fucking, ride my dick, bitch,” he yelled.
“Stop. Oh, my God. Stop!”
My body rocked backward, seeking a release against all rationality. Kes panted in my ear, his cock throbbing and hot between my thighs. I pressed my legs together, giving him friction to rub against.
“Goddammit, don’t do that.” He pulled away, pressing himself against the small of my back. “You’re fucking beautiful.” His fingers worked me harder. “Shit, I wish I could climb inside you for real.”
His words clenched my core. An orgasm I never expected brewed into being.
I moaned as my wrists hurt, being squashed every time Kes thrust.
“I’m losing it,” he muttered. “I need this to end before we both get into trouble.”
His gruff voice attacked my nervous system, sending me into quakes. My body took over; my toes curled with building pleasure.
Kes grasped my wrists, tugging on the sash, arching my back.
He nipped at my throat, running his warm tongue down the top of my spine. His fingers quickened, along with his hips. My thoughts disintegrated as his touch slipped on my clit and found wetness.
“Fuuuuck.” His thrusts turned erratic and savage. His fingers lost uniformity.
I moaned.
I couldn’t help it.
It felt good.
I wanted to cry.
I wanted to embrace it.
I wanted to die for who I’d become.
The covers shifted and clung, no doubt making it seem as if Kes took me with nothing barred. My mouth opened to breathe faster. Kes surprised me by sealing his lips completely over mine.
I stiffened.
I didn’t know what to do.
A kiss was somehow even more intimate than the fake-fucking we indulged in. Then his fingers tickled from my clit to entrance. I moaned. I couldn’t decide if it was a beg to stop or permission to keep going.
The fear that any minute he might stop being a gentleman trying to save me and fuck me against my will added the element of danger.
He shuddered as he slipped a fingertip barely inside me.
The taboo. The forbiddenness. The wrongness of what we were doing consumed me.
I couldn’t stop the detonating bliss just like I couldn’t stop my blood from flowing.
I came.
The second my body exploded around his finger, his tongue entered my mouth and I didn’t fight it.
I welcomed it.
For one delicious spiralling moment, I let go of right and wrong. I forgot about Jethro and ignored the messy aftermath.
I gave into pleasure.
Kes pulled me back against him, pleasure and need rumbling in his chest.