Wicked Truths (Hunt Legacy Duology #2) - Jodi Ellen Malpas Page 0,26

which is working me slowly and steadily towards release.

He moans, like he could be in pain, and separates our mouths, but never our eyes. Bursts of air are heating my face, his deep gasps loud. And then he takes a long breath and holds it, and I know he’s on his way. My stomach muscles are beginning to ache, but the intense waves of pleasure won’t allow me to give them a break. I’m on my way, too. His pace increases, his fingers tighten with mine, and he nods at me, his eyes widening. He’s close.

I pant, catching a deliciously deep plunge, flexing my hips to emphasise it. Every muscle tenses and he releases the stream of stored air that he’s been holding before gasping for some more and filling his lungs again. ‘I’m coming,’ I whisper in his face, and he pumps harder as a result, tossing me to the brink. It seizes me from every angle, taking hold of my body and bending it into a violent arch.

His palms are suddenly encasing my cheeks, holding my face. He’s staring at me so intensely. ‘I want to see,’ he pants. ‘I want to see the wonder on your face and see if it’s anywhere close to how I feel.’

I breathe up at him, my hands grappling at his back as stabs of pleasure attack me, my face contorting, my body tensing.

‘Yes, it’s that good.’ He thrusts one last, firm time and holds himself within me, throbbing dully, my internal walls squeezing him fiercely.

The waves of pleasure keep coming and coming, taking their time to pass over me, sending flurries of goose bumps all over my wet skin. I’m exhausted but bursting with energy. Scared but excited. The man looking down at me has sent my poor mind into a tailspin and my life spiralling into the unknown. My only consolation and comfort comes from the knowledge that I have had the exact same effect on him.

And like he’s read my thoughts, his lips twitch and his eyes sparkle. ‘Welcome home, baby.’ He kisses my cheek tenderly, and then collapses, swathing me in his body. His tongue meets my neck and licks away the sweat, and my chin rests on his shoulder, my arms surrounding him. His weight atop of me feels good. Sharp, heavy, protective, and good.

‘Good fucking morning,’ I sigh, feeling the weight of the world lift from my shoulders.

Understanding.

We lay there for an age, silent, until I can’t take his heaviness any longer.

I wriggle until he lifts from me, looking at me in question. I answer by forcing him to his front. He goes willingly, easily, and I straddle his thighs so I get the whole of his back in view, including his arse. For the first time ever, I’m not drawn to his delectable derrière. My eyes are on his glorious tattoo. I ignore the scratches that I put there.

The elaborate art brings a smile of wonder to my face. I see everything I saw before, all of the intricate detail, it all swelling before my eyes. Tilting my head, I ghost my finger through the UK, letting it drag south until it’s drifting through the Mediterranean. There are even dashes of ink that represent the waves of the sea, the names of countries blended into the shaded areas here and there, making you need to cross your eyes in order to see the words more clearly. It’s truly incredible.

‘Eleanor, I . . .’ Becker’s words fade to nothing, and my eyes climb the artwork until I have his perfect profile in view, waiting for whatever he’s trying to get straight in his head. He sighs. It’s a frustrated sigh. ‘You irritate the shit out of me.’

I roll my eyes. ‘I know.’

‘I love it.’

I smile and continue with my studying of the elegant tattoo blanketing his broad back, moving my eyes across the disguised numbers buried in the waves. My lack of response must make him curious, because after only a few seconds, he turns over beneath me and pulls me down by my upper arms until we’re nose-to-nose. He narrows his eyes on me, his mind clearly racing. But I remain silent, just staring at him. His lips press together, then he bites on his bottom one, then he flips his eyes up to my red hair, then down to my flushed cheeks, and then, finally, back to my waiting eyes. He practically scowls at me, turning my fixed frown into a hesitant smile. ‘How

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