Undone by the Ex-Con

by Talia Hibbert

  She wrapped her legs around his waist as if they belonged there. They did belong there. She belonged with him in any and every way. He knew it when she put her hands to his cheeks, gently as though he were actually something precious. “Kiss me, then” she whispered.

  Her wish was his command.

  He kissed her slowly, achingly slowly, his lips moving over hers as if spelling out the secret of how much he needed her. It might be the one thing he could never say to her out loud. But he showed her. He traced his tongue over hers, and he showed her. He pressed his body against her, poured himself into her, and he showed her. He let his every touch scream the contents of his enchanted mind. You. Only you do this to me. Only you make me so hungry and yet so satisfied. You.

  He showed her.

  She touched every inch of him she could reach, as if his body was worth exploring, as if she might need him as much as he needed her. Her soft palms traced over his ridges and hard planes, leaving trails of cleansing fire in their wake. And she whimpered against his mouth, rocking against his growing erection as if daring him to move faster, to speed this up—but he absolutely would not. When a blessing came your way, you didn’t rush through it. He had her, right now, in the safety of his own fucking room where no-one could interrupt, and he wouldn’t let her go until he’d watched her come for him at least a thousand times—

  Fuck. He pulled back, his heart falling fifty feet.

  “What’s wrong?” She panted.

  “No condoms.”

  She blinked. “What—none?”

  “Nah.”

  “Seriously?”

  He didn’t answer. Just looked at her. He wasn’t about to tell her he hadn’t been with a woman since he got out. Hell, before then—since the days when he’d had the time and energy spare for human contact. Which was a long fucking time ago.

  “Well, that’s okay,” she said. “I’ve got one.”

  Isaac felt a grin spread across his face, relief and disbelief merging. “Yeah?”

  “Of course. Safe sex is very important. I only brought one, though. Y’know, just in case.”

  This fucking woman.

  “Now take me to bed,” she said imperiously.

  His pleasure. He pulled her away from the door, carrying her through the suite until they reached his bed. He dropped her in the middle of the luxurious quilt and she looked like a work of art, like another priceless masterpiece in a roomful of shit too fancy for him to touch. But God-help him, he was going to touch. Breaking the rules had never scared Isaac.

  He unbuttoned his jeans, and shoved them off, turning away from her for a minute as he undressed. But when he looked up again, she was somehow already naked—except for a pair of lacy, blue knickers he wanted to tear apart. He stared at her tits for half a second, hypnotised, before snapping to attention.

  “How did you—”

  “Practice.” She smiled. Her bra was hanging off the century-old lampshade. She held a single condom in her hand. He might want to marry her.

  Laughing, his chest lighter than it had been in years, Isaac joined her on the bed. Pushing her back, he knelt between her legs and hooked his fingers under the edge of her underwear. Then the smile was wiped from his face as he pulled them slowly down, revealing heaven inch by inch.

  He’d been dreaming of this. Ever since that night in the sauna when he’d tasted her for the first time, he’d been dreaming. His hands shaking, he pulled the sky-blue fabric from her muscular calves. Everything about her was so fucking beautiful.

  But this…

  Pushing her further up the bed, Isaac sprawled onto his stomach, his face at a level with the ultimate prize. He spread her soft folds with his thumbs, exposing her pretty little cunt, all wet and swollen. For him. Her clit was stiff, demanding attention, begging him to take exactly what he wanted.

  So he did. He lowered his head, desperate to taste her sweetness—but before he lost control completely, he forced himself to rasp out, “Okay?” He was too far gone to bother with sentences, or to make any fucking sense at all.

  But she always knew what he meant. She put her hand on the back of his head and pushed, spreading her legs wider, and she was panting and breathless when she spoke—even though he’d barely touched her.

  “Now,” she moaned.

  He loved the way she sounded when she was like this. When she was with him. She fell into desire utterly, without reservation, coming completely undone. A princess unravelled. All because of him. He wanted to make her fall apart completely; he wanted to put her back together again. He wanted everything.

  Isaac let go of his tightly wound control, burying his face between her legs and feasting, weak with lust. He bathed in the rich, earthy scent of her desire, worshipping her tender flesh with desperation. Her taste, the way her wetness pooled against his tongue, the plump folds of her cunt—everything was dragging him under, like a tidal wave of pleasure he would happily drown in. As she writhed beneath him, her soft thighs tightened around his ears with a strength that should be alarming. But it wasn’t.

  He was suffocating in pure Lizzie, and fucking loving it.

  When she came, he kept licking lightly at her clit, dragging out her soft, keening moans, just because they made his balls ache. But eventually she shuddered and twisted her hips, pulling away, so he tore himself from the sweetness of her pussy. Resting his head on her thigh, he looked up at the magnificent landscape that was her body. Every roll and curve was even more beautiful than the mountains surrounding them, and he had her all to himself. Holy shit.

  He was hard as fuck, desperate to get inside her—but the soft, sated look on her face made him pause. He could stare at her forever. She looked like heaven.

  She looks like mine.

  Lizzie stared up at the ceiling above Isaac’s bed, wondering how the hell she got here. Hardly caring. It was ungracious to reject life’s blessings. Never look an orgasm in the mouth.

  She’d dropped the condom somewhere in between seeing galaxies and flying through them. But now she had regained her senses, and still she needed more. She needed everything.

  Perhaps she’d never get enough of him.

  Lizzie sat up, barely noticing that the self-consciousness she’d been struggling with was gone. She was utterly naked and completely unbothered, the way she used to be, before everything had changed. It felt like another part of her old self, the girl who’d grown up dressing and undressing in the wings beside fellow performers, had returned.

  She found the condom, tearing open its foil wrapper with her teeth, and then she said, “Come here.”

  Isaac's eyes widened slightly before he obeyed, coming to his knees before her. The rippling muscles of his thighs bulged. His cock, thick and long and gorgeous as she remembered, stood to attention, almost painfully hard. Maybe it was painful. She wouldn’t know. But she was about to help him with it.

  She rolled the condom onto him in one smooth stroke. Then she cupped the heavy weight of his balls in her hand, squeezing slightly, running her nails over the soft skin. He swore, his abs tightening, and Lizzie smiled. She liked this part—knowing that she was exactly what he needed. She liked it very much.

  He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her to him, taking her mouth in a bruising kiss. His weight pushed her back onto the bed, and she slid her legs over his shoulders, spreading herself open for him.

  He pulled back to look between their bodies with some surprise. Then, a little smirk twisting his lips, he muttered, “Forgot. You’re flexible.”

  “I’ll show you how flexible I am…” She reached beneath him and wrapped her hand around his cock, gratified to hear a strangled gasp leave his lips. “Some other time. But right now, you should concentrate on fucking me.” She brought the swollen head of his erection to her pussy, letting out a moan of her own as the touch sent a spark of pleasure through her.

  “Ah, fuck,” he grunted, pushing forward, easing his way inside. Lizzie rolled her hips as he stretched her wide, desperate f
or more, for everything. But he maintained control, pressing soft, teasing kisses against her gasping lips, refusing to fill her completely.

  “More?” He asked as she clutched his broad shoulders.

  “Don’t tease me,” she warned. “I’ll make you pay for it.”

  He just laughed. She didn’t blame him. It was hard to sound threatening when a dick the size of Big Ben was blowing your fucking mind.

  But then, when he finally settled in her to the hilt, the weight of his balls resting against her arse, his smile disappeared. He bumped his forehead against hers, finding her eyes amongst the shadows between them. And he whispered, “You’re perfect.”

  “No such thing,” she whispered back, as if she hadn’t spent her whole life pursuing it. As if perfection didn’t haunt her like a memory, far more real than a ghost.

  “You’re perfect,” he said again. One of his hands found hers, and their fingers laced together. His other hand reached between their bodies. She felt the pad of his thumb press firmly against her aching clit, and then he rubbed slow, even circles. The ragged, desperate sound she made might have embarrassed her, if she’d been capable of embarrassment at that moment.

  Then he began to move, pulling back slowly before he thrust, steady and hard and deep, stroking every inch of her fluttering pussy. Jesus, God above, this was better than anything she’d ever felt. Anything. Better than the ache in her calves after a hard days' practice. Better than the moment when her tired body surprised her with a perfect performance. Better than a bite of melting chocolate on her tongue. Whatever she’d been doing before now, obviously it hadn’t been sex. Because this was sex. This was the thing people killed for and died for, sold their souls for, left everything behind for.

  If she wasn’t careful, she’d become addicted.

  He rose up, shifting the angle of his thrusts so they brushed against some devastatingly sensitive place inside her she hadn’t even known about before now. And he rubbed her clit faster, fucked her harder, stared down at her with a look of unrelenting determination that told her he wouldn’t be offering mercy any time soon. He gritted his teeth, his muscles clenching and releasing as he rocked above her, becoming the only thing in her world that mattered. Finally, Lizzie felt tremors shake her to the core, tearing a ragged scream from her lips as incandescent pleasure burst through her.

  Isaac lowered himself until his weight was pushing her into the mattress. As the vestiges of her orgasm faded, he squeezed her hand in his. And then he gripped her thigh and ploughed into her, faster and faster, panting with each thrust. A guttural roar tumbled from his throat, and then he truly collapsed over her, the harsh lines of his face fading into a gentleness she wouldn’t have thought possible.

  After a brief moment in which she was thoroughly squashed, Lizzie felt his weight shift. He rolled over slightly, pulling her with him, wrapping an arm around her. They lay side by side, their faces a breath apart, as their heart rates slowed. She was ready to fall asleep. Her body hummed, heavy and sated. The bed was so soft, and his arms were so warm…

  But then he spoke. “You’re the first woman I’ve been with since—since I was... nineteen?”

  Lizzie stared at him in pure astonishment. “That’s… That’s not possible.”

  He huffed out a humourless laugh. “It is.”

  “No, I mean—of course. Wow. Okay.” She smiled as a thought hit her. “So you’re out of practice?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Good Lord. If you get any better, my brain might melt.”

  He grinned, and the sight sent a thrill of pleasure through her. There was no sweeter sight than Isaac's smile.

  He rolled over, pushing her onto her back, settling between her legs. “More, then?”

  “Down, boy. No more condoms, remember?”

  “Fuck.” He shifted to lie on his side, tracing circles over her bare ribs. She caught his hand, touched the signet ring on his little finger.

  "What's this?" She asked.

  "Mam's."

  "Ah." she kissed his knuckle. "It's lovely.”

  "Thanks," he smiled. Then his expression grew thoughtful. So thoughtful that she almost laughed when he said only, “Where do we find condoms in a place like this?”

  Lizzie snorted. “I have no idea, sadly.” She smiled up at him, at the gentle happiness on his face. He was so relaxed right now, so open.

  And then her pleasure evaporated. Because she knew what she had to do.

  Though Lizzie had thought the room warm, she was suddenly freezing. Her nakedness, so decadent a moment ago, was now uncomfortable—as if she were Eve after the Fall, suddenly discovering shame.

  But she couldn’t cover herself. She couldn’t do anything that might alter the mood. She had to taken advantage of this moment before it passed.

  She had to take advantage of him.

  Lizzie trailed a finger along the stubble of his jaw, and her heart nearly broke at the way he leaned into her touch. “Isaac,” she said, and she swore she heard her voice shaking. But it must be in her head, because he didn’t say anything. Just raised his brows in question.

  She moved a hand to his chest, because men liked that, didn’t they? Fuck. All of the movements that had come so naturally five minutes ago now seemed stilted, ridiculous. But Isaac pressed his hand over hers, and now she felt his heartbeat. She was definitely going to hell.

  “I…” She had no idea how to go about this. But she had to, had to push and probe in a way that felt entirely foreign. Then, thank God, inspiration struck. “I Googled you.”

  He looked surprised. “Yeah?”

  “Yes. And this thing came up about… About something you did last summer.”

  For a second, he stiffened. Her heart pounded as she worried that she’d blown it, that she’d overestimated her abilities. But then, just as quickly, he relaxed. Because he trusted her. Because he’d tell her anything.

  Lizzie hadn’t even known she could hate herself this much.

  “The journalist,” he said.

  She nodded. “Is it true? Because the articles said that he refused to comment.”

  “He refused to comment because…” He trailed off.

  Lizzie bit her lip. Close. So close she could taste it. One more question, one more push, and she’d have what she needed to keep her brother safe. To stop his life from falling apart.

  “What happened?” She asked softly. He could trust her. She was in his arms, in his bed, and vulnerable.

  That wasn’t true, of course. She was mirroring him; that was all. It was just part of the performance.

  And it worked. It worked beautifully.

  Isaac told her.

  Twenty

  She hadn’t stayed the night.

  In fact, she’d barely stayed two hours. Claimed she had a dinner date with Candy. Isaac had watched her dress with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. She was smiling, but he didn’t believe it. She touched him, but he hadn’t felt it fully.

  He’d had the oddest impression that she was leaving. Leaving him. That the first time he ever had her would be the last.

  But his mind had always run to the dramatic.

  Now, in the morning light, he saw things much more clearly. There was nothing weird going on with Lizzie yesterday. Nothing weirder than usual, anyway. Emotions were high, and he was a miserable bastard. Expecting the worst was a habit that had been beaten into him. But Lizzie would change that. Lizzie had been the best surprise of his life.

  Isaac laced up his boots and grabbed his keycard, ready to face the day. Ready to find his woman. And some condoms, wherever they hid them in this fancy-ass place. Rich people had sex too, after all.

  And they were pretty fucking good at it, if Lizzie was anything to go by.

  He strode through the halls like he was king of the damn world. If he’d bumped into anyone he knew, they’d probably have passed out in shock at the grin on his face. He didn’t care. Today would be the start of the rest of his life; he could feel i
t. He was going to grab what he wanted with both hands.

  And what he wanted was Lizzie.

  So he didn’t like it when she left. He’d have to give her a reason to never leave again. He’d have to make it clear that she was his, and he was hers, if she’d have him. And she would. She would have him. He saw in her face the same thing he felt in his heart.

  After taking the stairs two at a time—the lift would be too damned slow—Isaac marched up the corridor that would take him to the little row of rooms where Lizzie had been put. He turned the corner, lost in his cloud of anticipation. He didn’t even notice that Lizzie’s door was already open.

  But he did notice when a man stepped out of it, backing into the hall.

  Isaac stopped in his tracks, frozen. Completely still, right down to his suspended pulse. For a heartbeat, he saw red.

  But then his good sense returned. It was only a man. Men were just people. Lizzie was also a person. Sometimes, people interacted. Often, in fact. This was fine. This was absolutely fine.

  Then the man spoke, and all of Isaac’s fury came rushing back. Because he realised who it was.

  “Don’t overreact,” Mark was sneering. The charm and joviality he usually cloaked himself with were utterly absent. There was only venom now, dripping from his every word, and all Isaac could think was: It better not be Lizzie he’s talking to like that.

  It was. Because she answered with a roar to rival a lion’s. “Get OUT,” she bellowed. “OUT!” And then she followed him into the hall, pushing at his chest, shoving him as far from her room as she could. She was wearing a long, silk robe, but her feet were bare, and her hair was floating around her head like a cloud.

  “Careful, sweetheart,” Mark said, something dark and sinuous in his voice. Something that sounded too much like a threat for Isaac’s liking.

  Suddenly, he could move again. He surged forward, intent on something—he didn’t know exactly what. But it felt bad. It felt really fucking bad.

  They noticed him at the same time, their heads turning in tandem, and the poisonous air around Mark instantly receded. Everything from his posture to his expression to the look in his fucking eyes changed in seconds. Isaac had seen hints of this dual nature before, but watching the man literally transform…