Wicked Truths (Hunt Legacy Duology 2)

She turns and throws her arms around me. ‘I love it. Thank you.’

‘Welcome.’ I accept her appreciation for just a second before I whirl her around, pushing her front-forward onto the bonnet. She gasps, shocked. It makes me laugh on the inside. She didn’t honestly expect me to pass up this opportunity, surely? But first . . .

I pull her dress aside by her shoulder blade, tugging it down until I find what I’m looking for. I smile at the ink, the art incredible.

The missing piece of the map. I dip and kiss her tattoo, before licking up her spine to her neck.

Her hands slap on the paintwork, my front meeting her back, pressing her into the hard metal. Her body is throbbing along with mine. ‘Time to consummate your new car, princess.’ I pull her up and her hands wedge into the paintwork. I’ve fucked her over the bonnet of each of my cars. I’m not about to break tradition.

I thrust my groin into her bum, moving her hair from her neck. ‘Your arse looks fucking divine in this dress.’ My palms work up her inside thigh, and her hands ball into fists.

‘Oh, Jesus.’ Her head falls back on her shoulders, the bright, florescent lights of the garage forcing her to close her eyes. I smile wickedly and reach down, gathering up the pool of white satin and pulling it up to her waist. My fingers slip between her legs and sink into her wetness, making that delectable arse fly back. I’m solid. Ready. But I continue priming her, my fingers massaging gently as I suck at the creamy skin of her neck, my hips rolling expertly into her backside over and over, driving her wild with impatience. ‘Becker,’ she whimpers.

‘It’s coming, princess.’ I begin to fuck her with my fingers, plunging deep, circling wide, withdrawing slowly, as her moans ring out loud. The sound, good Lord, the sound.

I unzip my fly, feeling her internal muscles tightening. ‘Someone’s being greedy.’ I bite her cheek and break away, pulling my fingers free and stepping back. She shouts her frustration to the ceiling, squeezing her eyes closed. Then I skate a steady palm across the smooth skin of her arse, my arse, admiring the perfect curve that’s more pronounced since she carried my son. I didn’t think I could love her arse any more than I did. Didn’t think it could be any more perfect. I was wrong. I raise my palm, and she stills, snatching some air in preparation, bracing herself. She’s never prepared. I bring my hand down swiftly, slapping her arse on a piercing crack. The instant sting that spreads across my palm makes my cock bulge more, the pink of her skin a sight to behold.

‘Fuck!’ She jolts forward, and her eyes spring open. I watch as she looks back and searches me out, her soft eyes lazy and appreciative, her hair wild and damp. I remove my glasses and slip them into my pocket, giving her direct access to my appreciative stare. It doesn’t matter that my vision is suddenly blurry, because I won’t be able to see straight soon, anyway.

‘Good?’ I ask, starting to tenderly stroke her burning arse, leaning in and giving her cheek an equally tender kiss.

‘You’re a depraved holier-than-thou twat, Becker Hunt,’ she puffs, making me smirk.

I slowly position myself behind her. ‘I’m making no apologies,’ I say under my breath. ‘I’m going to fuck you to the Pantheon and back, Eleanor.’

She laughs, and I growl, positioning the head of my wet cock at her opening. I don’t slip in slowly. I don’t tease my way through her soaking pussy. It’s been a long day waiting to get my hands on her properly.

I thunder forward, smashing into her brutally on a bellow that echoes around the stark garage. Her scream follows suit, bouncing off the white walls, and my world spirals into beautiful, desperate chaos, the power of our connection sending me descending into a haze of unadulterated bliss. Her sweaty palms slip over the paintwork of her new car, trying to find the anchor they need to hold her in place while I pound into her. I groan, striking hard and fast, yelling each and every time. I begin to gulp down air, taking long, deep breaths. The depths I’m achieving and the force behind my drives are building me up quickly, my balls aching. ‘Fuck, yeah,’ I yell, shifting one hand to her shoulder, clawing my fingers into her flesh. ‘Feel good, Mrs Hunt?’ Another brutal drive sends her up onto her tiptoes, her head going limp on her shoulders and hanging lifelessly. I delve my fingers into her messed-up hair and tug her head up. ‘Do. I. Feel. Good?’ I bark. I’m going out of my fucking mind. Everything is spinning. I feel spaced out, yet totally compos mentis. Completely with it. All the nerve endings I possess are zinging, screaming, raring to burst. ‘Eleanor!’ I roar.