Wicked Truths (Hunt Legacy Duology Book 2)

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

  Beep!

  I gasp and freeze, mindful that I could activate the alarm again. I didn’t hit the beam; I know I didn’t!

  ‘You missed the one above your head, princess.’

  Keeping as still as I can, I cast my eyes up and spot the stretch of blue light just a few inches above my head. Then I look ahead and spot my way out. There are three beams in front of me, avoidable if I use the holes from various missing bricks in the wall. I smile. My instinct didn’t fail me. I can smell freedom in the form of an intoxicating wood-and-apple scent, but holy fuck, this is going to take some serious body-bending to clear.

  ‘Take your time,’ Becker says softly, encouragingly. My heart is now hammering, a little in apprehension and a lot in excitement. So I practise some breathing, working hard to calm down my racing heart. I can’t fail now. Just one spank. It’s not none, but I can live with one.

  I reach for one of the holes in the wall, but then retract my arm, figuring very quickly that my plan’s not going to work. My foot. I need to get my foot into it. Shit, that looks hard. Positioning my bum on the edge of the dresser, I check below and find no beams close to the edge, so I slide my legs down the side so I’m sitting on the edge. Then I brace my hands behind me and point my toe, reaching to the wall under the beam before me. My toe skims the brick. ‘Damn it,’ I curse, shuffling carefully forward, constantly scanning my surroundings and position. My foot reaches and settles, and I exhale, my cheeks puffing out. My leg is extended to full length, my muscles strained like an overstretched elastic band with both hands gripping the top of the dresser. I need to be quick. I won’t be able to withstand the pull for long. Looking down to where my hands rest on the edge of the wood, I anchor them firmly, then push my bum off the edge, keeping my other foot wedged into the side of the dresser, hoping it doesn’t slip, before reaching with my right hand and grabbing the wall. I exhale, and I’m sure I hear Becker release air, too. I can feel him watching me, though there’s not a cat in hell’s chance of me looking to confirm it. Not unless I pull an Exorcist move and spin my head on my shoulders. I breathe out as I bend forward to dip under the beam but stop just in time to realise that my head will likely cut straight through another beam a foot in front. Glancing over my shoulder, I see the one behind is a little further away, but Lord knows how I’ll bend back that far. Fuck, I might be nimble but I’m hardly a contortionist.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ I breathe, beginning to sweat. I’m literally suspended between the wall and the huge piece of furniture, like a jumping jack floating in mid-air. I’m going to have to catapult myself onto the wall and hope for the best. If I can just bend enough and hold my position to move under the beam, I can use the dresser as a launch pad to spring to safety. ‘If you could see me now, Dad,’ I mutter to the heavens, shifting a little to root my feet into position firmly. I start bowing back, arching my spine slowly and deliberately inch by inch and circling to the side, trying to give the beam a wide berth. My teeth clench as my spine curls, vertebrae by vertebrae, folding slowly until my torso is at a right angle to my lower body and I can see behind me. I begin to shake, the strain getting too much to bear. ‘Come on,’ I encourage myself, feeling like my spine could snap at any moment.

  The blue glowing line comes into my view. I start inching to the right, passing beneath it. I swear, if I were to stick my tongue out, I could lick the light. It’s literally skimming my nose. ‘Fucking hell.’ I have to stop a second to reposition my hand on the wood when it slips a little. ‘Shit, shit, shit,’ I curse, my limbs starting to vibrate with the strength it’s taking me to unbend myself. It hurts terribly, but I battle through the pain, my muscles burning. And when my foot begins to slip as well, I have no option but to propel myself and hope for the best.

  I close my eyes as I take off, my foot and hand leaving the dresser and following the path of my torso, under the beam. I hear Becker gasp, and then I feel the impact. I slam into the wall and quickly open my eyes, finding the holes in the brickwork and grabbing on. ‘Oh my God,’ I breathe, looking down to the floor, just to make sure that I’m where I’m supposed to be while listening carefully for any accusing beeps. Nothing.

  The most incredible sense of achievement bombards me. I check the beams below me and clear them, jumping down from the wall. The ground beneath my feet feels so good. I land with my back to Becker, smiling victoriously across the hall. Then I slowly turn to find him, unable to disguise my elation or stop myself from having a thorough inspection of his naked body as I calm my breathing down. I take my time, working my way up his physique, noticing he’s perspiring himself, a film of shimmering sweat coating his chest. I pass his pecs, the scruff at his neck, his throat, his chin, and finally make it to his face. The happiness shining back at me through his hazel green eyes eliminates every ache and pain. My muscles stop screaming with overstretching and start screaming with longing.

  His smiling eyes are joined by lips that stretch the widest I’ve ever seen. ‘That,’ he says sharply, grabbing my hips and pulling me into him. Our naked chests collide, the heat of our bodies mingling deliciously, ‘was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my fucking life.’ He spins me around so my back slams into his chest, and I cry out, feeling his erection pushing into my bottom and his palms covering my breast, squeezing deliberately. My breathing goes to shit again, and I very nearly stop when he rests his lips on the nape of my neck. I’m hypersensitive to everything. I don’t know whether it’s adrenalin or what, but every touch feels like pure fire.

  ‘I’ve just fallen in love with you some more,’ he whispers, sucking on my flesh. ‘Fuck me, Eleanor, you have no idea how incredible your body looked moving through my maze.’ He pushes me forward, and I close my eyes, waiting for it as he yanks my knickers out of the way. I triggered the alarm once.

  Smack!

  I’m spun back on a yelp and hauled up to his body. ‘How do you want me, princess? The hard fucker, or the masterful love-maker?’

  My legs wrap around his naked hips and cling on tightly, my palms resting on his skin. ‘You’re a master at both.’

  ‘I have more experience in one than the other.’ He raises a sardonic eyebrow that goes way over my head. He might have more experience being a cold, emotionless fucker, but his newfound tenderness is pretty masterful, too.

  Reaching for my hair tie, he pulls it free and my red locks tumble down my back. ‘I need something to grip onto.’

  I ignore his cheek and slide my hands into his mussed-up locks. ‘Touché,’ I quip, giving it a severe tug.

  He winces on a grin before lunging forward with his mouth, crashing his lips to mine and returning my brutality. His fingers delve into my hair and fist it. I’m instantly in the game, matching the severity of his hold and kiss, plunging my tongue deep and firmly.

  He stalks forward with no regard for any of the blue beams that I’ve just broke my back avoiding, and one alarm triggers, then another and another. ‘Fuck,’ Becker curses, performing an about turn and taking us back to the wall. ‘We’ll wake Gramps.’ He dips and picks something up, and the noise dies in an instant, along with the thousands of light shards. Blackness falls for a split second before the lights kick in. And he’s on me again, resuming our desperate kiss. With me still coiled around his waist, he drops to his knees, then takes me down to my back. The hardness of the floor doesn’t bother me in the slightest. I wriggle beneath him, widening my spread thighs so he’s nestled comfortably between them. Our hands and mouths are everywhere, grabbing and kissing hectically. I can feel the length of him, hard and hot, gliding across the heat of my clit.

  ‘Becker,’ I pant between rushed tongue strokes. ‘Inside.’

  ‘Is someone in a hurry?’ His hand tickles down my side, onto my leg, and wraps around my upper thigh, tugging up.

  ‘No more games.’

  ‘Shhhh.’

  ‘Don’t shush me.’ I’m pulling at his hair in a frenzy, tryi
ng to angle my hips just so.

  He’s having none of it. He lifts his lower body, getting to his knees. ‘Shut the fuck up, princess.’

  I scream my frustration, and he flips me over, pulling my knickers aside and giving my arse a warning smack.

  ‘That’s two,’ I yell, pissed off, rolling onto my back again. ‘I only activated one alarm.’

  ‘Yes, but you’re making far too much noise right now.’ Sliding his arm under my lower back, he rises to standing, lifting me with him before steadying me on my feet. Then he lets go and wanders across the hall, taking long, slow strides that showcase his arse and back to their full beauty.

  When he reaches the Louis XIV chair, he slowly takes a seat and spreads his legs. My eyes drop to his crotch and my tongue slips across my top lip.

  ‘Move.’ His order kicks my feet into action, but my focus remains on his cock as I make my way over to him. ‘See something you want?’ he asks assuredly.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I might let you lick it.’ His fist wraps around the girth and slowly starts to pump. ‘I might not.’

  I reach him and flick my eyes up his body. His face is tight, his eyes on my breasts. I take my palms to them and cup firmly. My sensitive nipples pucker like they could be submerged in ice. ‘See something you want?’ I ask, as he continues to work himself.

  ‘No.’ He looks up at me. ‘I see something I have.’

  I half smile, lifting a brow. I relinquish my hold of my boobs and cheekily slide two fingers down the centre of my stomach, into the top of my knickers. ‘And what about this?’ My breath stutters when my touch finds the liquid fire between my thighs. ‘Does this belong to you, Becker?’

  ‘We’ve been over this, Eleanor,’ he breathes tiredly. ‘Stop being so stubborn and accept that I own you.’ He drops his cock and reaches forward, knocking my hand away from the apex of my thighs. I inhale a feeble gust of air. Feeble because I planned on sounding shocked, but all I achieved was unadulterated craving. For him. He slips a finger into the side of my knickers and slowly draws them down my legs. ‘Step out and get on your knees.’ He lets the small piece of material around my thighs drop to the floor and then rests back in the chair, reclaiming his cock.

  I’m knelt at his feet quicker than my dignity should allow. ‘And now what, sir?’ I’m selective with my words. I know what that one does to him, and a small hiss confirms it.

  ‘Kiss it.’ He holds himself firmly and thrusts his hips up a little.

  I do as I’m bid, resting my hands on his thighs and leaning in. I keep my eyes on his as I lower my mouth to his cock and drop a gentle kiss on the very tip. He moans, gliding his fist up. A small bead of pre-cum appears. I can’t resist. I dip and lick it up, groaning teasingly.

  He pushes me away and sits forward, sacrificing his own pleasure for mine, his fingers slipping between my legs, past my trembling lips, and pushing into me unforgivingly.

  ‘Oh God.’ I’m instantly rigid, and triumph is quickly plastered all over his extraordinary face. He circles his fingers precisely, prompting me to spit out a plea for mercy.

  ‘You want me?’ he hisses.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How badly, Eleanor? How badly do you want me fucking you right now?’

  ‘Badly.’ My torso concaves sharply, my head going limp. I can’t deal with this. ‘Becker, please.’

  He removes his fingers and my body goes limp at his feet, my shoulders slumping. ‘Help me.’ He takes my chin and pulls my face up, flashing a condom in my face.

  I take it and rip it open quickly, discarding the empty foil packet to the side. My fingers are clumsy as I take it to the broad head of his cock.

  ‘Steady,’ he murmurs, holding himself vertical from his lap. I’m too desperate to be steady, all fingers and thumbs, and once Becker’s realised that, he takes over and quickly covers himself.

  With one fast move, I’m hauled onto his lap and with a sharp shift of his hips, he thunders up on a harsh bark, me on a scream. He brings me down, pushing his hands into the tops of my arms and his back into the chair. His stupidly defined chest sends me cross-eyed. If I could find my senses, I could probably find the energy to dribble at the sight, but he lifts me fast and drives back up, so fucking deep, groaning and dropping his chin lifelessly to his chest. ‘Fucking hell,’ he whispers hoarsely.

  I swivel on his lap, grinding down as his head flies up, pleasure rife through the sweat and strain on his face.

  ‘You feel so good,’ he pants, encouraging me to circle again, transferring his hold to my hips. ‘I love seeing you like this.’ Our eyes lock. The intensity bouncing between us is rampant. Every one of my nerve endings is in a pickle, the spasms relentless. I grind again, loving the glints of wonder sparking from his eyes. He’s letting me take control, holding back on his power and instinct to smash into me. I make sure I don’t disappoint.

  ‘Do I feel good wrapped around you, Becker?’ I ask, rolling firm and deep. His cheeks puff out, his fingers clawing into the flesh of my hips. ‘Tell me, you holier-than-thou-twat. Do I feel good?’

  ‘Jesus, Eleanor,’ he chokes, blinking his eyes a few times, the sensation of his cock gliding smoothly into me stirring the pressure, pushing it forward.

  ‘Not so holier-than-thou now, are you?’ I lift and push down precisely.

  ‘Fuck!’

  ‘Do you like me talking dirty to you?’ Around I go, up and down on a slap of flesh. ‘Renaissance,’ I whisper provocatively, smiling on the inside.

  ‘Eleanor.’ His eyes roll into the back of his head, the groans coming thick and fast.

  I meld the flesh of his shoulders as I fall forward, my breathing stuttering slightly as a result of the change in angle. He’s so deep, so thick and warm. I get my nose close to his and swivel my hips again, not just once, but twice, three times, four times, with no break in between. He starts mumbling incoherent words, which I’m sure are prayers. ‘Answer my question, Becker,’ I breathe in his face, driving forward and up. I have to bite back my scream when the move I instigate hits deeper, shocking me.

  ‘How do you do this to me, princess?’ His face is wet now, sweat beads trickling down his forehead. ‘Tell me how.’

  ‘You love me,’ I say huskily. He’s only had sex with women for nothing more than physical pleasure. Add emotion, and he’s in alien territory. He’s bamboozled by it. Lost but found. I rest my mouth on his and push my hands into his hair. ‘I do this to you because you love me.’

  ‘Every second of every minute of every hour of every fucking day.’ He traces his fingers up my waist, my sides, my arms, until his hands are in his hair with mine. He links our fingers and crushes them together, pushing his forehead into mine. His cock is pulsing rhythmically within me, stroking my walls soothingly. He blinks slowly and breathes in calmly. ‘I’m fucking besotted.’

  ‘Infatuated,’ I counter.

  ‘Smitten,’ Becker adds. ‘I can’t wait to make love to you every single day.’

  ‘And good-fucking-mornings?’ I ask, my voice throaty from dryness.

  He grins and brings our hands to between our mouths. ‘Good-fucking-mornings.’ He kisses a knuckle softly. ‘Good-fucking-afternoons.’ And another knuckle. ‘Good-fucking-evenings.’ And another. ‘And good-fucking-nights.’ His last kiss on my hand is drawn out and harder than the others.

  I’m so bloody happy. ‘Can’t wait,’ I whisper, and he laughs, but it dries up in an instant when his sudden movement stirs him within me, catching us both off guard, reminding us that we’re still connected. ‘Oh.’ I collapse forward, burying my face in his neck helplessly.

  ‘Fucking oh,’ Becker mimics as I feel his throat bulge from his hard swallow. ‘Let me see your face.’ He nudges me from my sanctuary, forcing me to comply. My forehead meets his again. ‘I’m aiming for an eight.’ His tone is dripping with cockiness, and he falls straight
into a steady thrusting of his hips, swaying up and grinding me down controlled and leisurely. I whimper, my thighs compressing around his, my body following his fluid pace. The friction on my clitoris each time I plunge down is creating an addictive sensation that I never want to end. A ten. Always a ten. I’m caught between a full-on, shake-worthy orgasm and consistent, trembling pleasure.

  My head falls back on my shoulders. ‘Oh, Becker,’ He’s meticulous, precise . . . fucking amazing. The pleasure-induced haze he’s shoved me into is heaven. I have the ability to push myself over the threshold that will see me coasting furiously towards explosion, but I have no inclination to finish just yet. He feels too good. I want to stay here forever, feeling like this. Overwhelmed. Bursting with love for my certified unlawful man. I have strong morals, but I have stronger feelings for Becker Hunt. I’ve never experienced feelings so intense. Feelings that change your outlook, play with your principles, and challenge your integrity. And most of all, clouds any inclination to find them. Because they would be easy to find. All of those things are built into me. They are there somewhere, but even more significant is my willingness to hide them, to not want to find them, to change my mindset completely. To make myself understand him, because I know he’s not all bad. Maybe a little questionable in the ethics department, but not bad. He loves me. He’s given up on something for me. He needs me more than redemption or peace. I’m his source of peace now.

  ‘Talk to me, Eleanor,’ he demands, strained and lusty. ‘Tell me how you feel.’ I know what he wants. Reassurance. ‘Tell me,’ he presses.

  He’s upped the stakes, increased his pace, washed my mind of everything except the sensations he’s creating. He’s preparing to come. I can hear it in the change of his breathing pattern.