Undone by the Ex-Con

by Talia Hibbert

  He sat down, and the sofa beneath them gave Lizzie leverage. She rose up on her knees and rolled her hips, grinding her aching clit against his erection. When she undid the belt at her waist and pushed off her robe, Isaac’s touch became frenzied. His hands roamed her naked body, rough and possessive, and he thrust up to meet her hips.

  “Missed you,” he whispered against her lips. “So fucking much. Thought I’d never touch you again. Thought—”

  She took his face in her hands and bit his lower lip. When he moaned, she pulled back. “Don’t think about that,” she whispered. “You have me. Now what are you going to do?”

  Isaac watched as a wicked smile spread across her face. She was magnificent. She was everything. She was testing him. And she knew it.

  “Please tell me you have condoms,” he muttered, unable to answer her question—to show her—without them.

  “You still don’t have any?”

  “Didn’t think we’d end up like this.”

  “Why not?” She asked, her eyes adorably wide. “We always do.”

  He laughed, his chest light despite the current of desire sweeping him under. His cock was so fucking hard it almost hurt, and still, she made him laugh. Always would.

  “I have some,” she relented, reaching down to pick up the waterfall of her silk robe. She produced a few foil packets from the front pocket. “But you have to earn the right to use them.”

  “Yeah?” The imperious tone of her voice made his cock harden further, and he hadn’t even thought that was possible. His balls tightened as she looked down at him, her eyes a spark of light in the darkness. They caught up every drop of moonlight in the room and reflected it, mesmerising him. Like magic.

  “If you want to fuck me,” she whispered, her words deliciously precise, unflinching clear, “work for it.”

  He turned, pushing her back onto the sofa. Her head landed neatly on the pillows he’d laid down to sleep—though he’d never gotten around to the sleeping part. Not with Lizzie just rooms away, within his reach but untouchable. Always, she was untouchable. And yet, she allowed him the honour.

  She was so beautiful, laying before him, her legs spread around him, her arms over her head. Outstretched, as if in surrender. But the way she watched him, the confident curve of her lips, the tempting roll of her hips, designed to steal his good sense—she wasn’t the surrendering type. That was why he wanted her so fucking much.

  Isaac pulled off his briefs, finally freeing his aching cock from the restraint of cotton and elastic. Then he covered her body with his own, caging her, surrounding her. The moonlight was locked out of their intimate embrace; he rested on his forearms, his lips inches from hers. In an instant, his senses were overtaken, his world shrinking until it could balance on the tip of a knife. There was only the flutter of her panting breath against his lips, the softness of her thighs around his hips, the scalding heat of her wet cunt, open to him, teasing his cock with its slickness.

  “Could fuck you right now,” he murmured in her ear. She shivered beneath him, arching up, and the movement pushed his shaft against her folds. The sweet friction sent sparks up his spine, and she whimpered beneath him. “You want it,” he told her, and never mind the fact that his own voice was frayed with lust.

  She bit his throat lightly, right over his pulse, and he thought he would come on her belly like a fucking teenager. “Work. For. It.”

  But her voice shook. At least she was just as desperate, just as needy. Filled with satisfaction, Isaac thrust his cock between her folds again—not into her pussy, no matter how much he wanted to sink into her. No; he wrapped a hand around his shaft and guided it over the sweet, swollen nub of her clit. She let out a broken little moan, so he did it again. And again. And again.

  She threw her head back, sinking her nails into his arse, urging him on. Forcing him against her, harder, faster, as her face twisted in ecstasy. The sight was too much. He felt himself sliding closer and closer to the edge, but he’d cling on. He had to.

  Only it would be a lot fucking easier if she didn’t look so damn beautiful all the time.

  “Your hair,” he murmured, searching for something to distract him from the way her slick skin felt gliding against his. “I like it.”

  She opened her eyes, let out an agonised little laugh that held as much need as it did humour. “You’re telling me now?”

  “Mmhm. Pretty.”

  “Just pretty?” She arched a brow.

  “Sexy as fuck.”

  “That’s better.”

  He rose up slightly, slowing his thrusts just because he knew that she wanted them faster. Sure enough, she whimpered, rolling her hips beneath him. He loved that. Loved the fact that she wanted him so much, and that she’d take what she wanted without hesitation. He could feel how wet she was, dripping for him, and the knowledge made him want to howl at the moon like a beast. He ran his hand up her ribcage, capturing her breast, kneading roughly. She put her own hand over his, squeezing. Hard. More.

  “Now,” she gasped, her eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck me now.”

  He leant down to whisper in her ear. “Work for it.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Come for me,” he said softly, circling the sensitive head of his cock over her clit. She felt so fucking good it had him grinding his teeth. But she wouldn’t give in.

  “Say please,” she gasped, teasing him even as she shivered under his touch.

  “Nope.” He let go of his cock to grab her hip tight, pinning her in place as he dragged his shaft backwards and forwards, harder and faster. She moaned beneath him, her fingers closing around his wrist, so tight she almost cut off his circulation. Urging him on, as if he needed encouragement. He knew the look on her face, recognised the way her breath became ragged. She was close.

  He swooped in to kiss her just as she began to cry out, silencing her pleasure with lips and tongue. She poured her satisfaction into his mouth instead, kissing him desperately as her body was wracked with shudders of ecstasy.

  “I want you,” she said finally. “Now.”

  Like he needed prompting. Like he hadn’t already died and gone to heaven five times over just from the sweet pressure of desperation. Isaac grabbed one of the little foil packets and sheathed himself as rapidly as he could, considering he hadn’t had much practice over the years. It took just a few seconds, but any amount of time was too long. His whole fucking life had been too long. Like a prologue. And this woman was the main fucking event.

  He looked into her sunshine eyes as he leaned over her, easing two fingers into the soft heat of her cunt.

  “Please,” she whimpered, and he felt her walls tighten around him. “Just—please.”

  He kissed the tiny little moles under her lower lashes, even though he couldn’t see them in the dark. He knew they were there, and he loved them. That was all. His fingers stroked her melting core, and she spread her legs wider as if begging wordlessly for more. Telling him she could handle it. He knew that. But teasing her was almost as good as watching her fall apart beneath him.

  Finally, when her nails scored lines across his back and her pleads turned into demands that went straight to his cock, Isaac relented. He eased his fingers from her velvet grip and replaced them with his aching shaft. The relief he felt as his cock parted her folds made him light-headed. He pushed into her slowly, savouring every moment of delicious friction, revelling in the way she stretched around him, the way she drew him closer, the way her breath hitched with every inch he thrust forward.

  “I love you,” he whispered in her ear. “I love you, and I love this. So fucking much. How did I breathe without you?”

  She wrapped her arms around him, her touch tender. “You were waiting for me,” she whispered. “And I was waiting for you.”

  “Yes.” He filled her to the hilt, his every nerve-ending singing with pleasure. Their chests were pressed so closely together, he could feel his own heartbeat. Or maybe that was hers. Maybe they were the same. Slowly, so
slowly, he pulled back, and she shivered in his arms as the friction sent sparks through them both.

  He loved her steadily, thoroughly, catching every sigh and whimper and gasp with his lips, taking them as sustenance. His thoughts scattered, ran into one another like dominoes, so simple and yet so frantic. Need her, want her, will never have enough of her, keep me here forever I’m so happy I could die in her—

  “Isaac,” she whispered, clutching his shoulders tightly. “I’m going to—”

  “Yes,” he gritted out, moving faster. Letting go of his control. Giving her everything.

  She bit her fist as she came, muffling her own cries, and as he followed her over the edge, he buried his face into the dip where her neck met her shoulder. His vision was dark, full of her, the way she was full of him. Her warmth surrounded him, her pussy squeezed him, and he was coming so fucking hard he thought he might pass out.

  But he didn’t. Instead, stars still shooting across the night sky of his vision, he kissed her. And he tasted forever on her lips.

  Thirty

  “Do you think we caught them at a bad time?” Keynes muttered under his breath, eyeing the hustle and bustle of the Spencer mansion warily.

  “I don’t think there’ll ever be a good time for this,” Lizzie replied grimly. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  She strutted up the Spencer’s icy garden path, and Keynes followed closely. But Isaac trailed behind, keeping his steps short. Perhaps now wasn’t the best moment to watch the sway of his woman’s arse, but she made it bloody hard to ignore.

  She was a general leading her army into enemy territory, but this was the most charming of guerrilla warfare. The staff rushing in and out of the house might have paused at the sight of Isaac or Keynes striding alone with such purpose. But Lizzie was like a shield. The staff loved her, clearly. Just a smile or a friendly hello from her was enough to lull the workers into a false sense of security. They grinned back, waved, paused in their duties to ask after her health. And just like that, the trio sailed into the Spencer house. They breached enemy walls, detected—but unchallenged.

  “His office is this way,” Lizzie murmured. “He’s always in there. So that’s where we’ll start.”

  God, he wanted to kiss her.

  She undid her coat as she walked, her heels clicking sharply against the polished wood floors. The Spencer mansion was as vast and intimidating as ever, especially with an army of staff marching through it, their uniforms giving them an almost robotic appearance. A train of young women charged down a nearby staircase in the black and white outfits, Spencer embroidered over their breasts. They carried a mountain of luggage with them, their arms straining.

  “What are they all doing?” Keynes whispered.

  “I don’t know,” Lizzie murmured back. “It’s not usually like this. Maybe because they’ve just arrived home—?”

  “Nah,” Issac said. “Should be unpacking. But they’re taking shit outside.”

  “Odd,” she replied, but her voice was so distant, so thoughtful, she might as well have been talking to herself. “I wonder…”

  By the time they reached the door to Mark’s office, Isaac was beginning to feel on edge. There was an eerie silence to this part of the house, an emptiness that belied the excess of grand furniture and busy decor. Mark’s door, dark and shut tight, gave Isaac the impression of a portal to some other realm.

  One that wasn’t friendly.

  Lizzie put her hand on the brass doorknob, but Isaac stopped her, placing a hand on her forearm.

  “No,” he said. “Let me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t bite. He might not even be in there.”

  “He’s in there,” Isaac said, suddenly certain. “And something’s not right.”

  “Do as he says,” Keynes murmured. Isaac flashed the man a look of gratitude. Lizzie was far from weak, but this situation was no longer predictable. Which made it dangerous.

  “Fine,” she sighed, stepping back. “Go on.”

  Nodding, Isaac opened the door, peering into the emptiness of the room. It was dark, the thick, burgundy curtains drawn, but a lamp on the edge of Mark’s huge desk glowed through the gloom. The light it cast did little to improve visibility, and sent strange shadows dancing across the walls.

  But Mark stood out amongst the darkness. His pale skin and colourless eyes flashed like a blade. He sat slumped in his vast, leather chair, gazing sightlessly at the papers strewn across his desk.

  Isaac looked over his shoulder, nodding at Lizzie and her brother. They nodded back, eerily in sync, their faces distant echoes of each other.

  The three of them entered the study, shutting the door tightly behind them.

  Mark finally looked up, his eyes settling on Isaac. They lit with something close to fear before the shark-like man smoothed away every hint of expression, his mask in place once more. But it was slipping. His usually slicked-back hair was limp and oily, hanging over his narrow brow. Sweat gleamed on his forehead and his hands shook slightly as he stood, spreading his arms wide.

  “Guests,” he said, his voice cracking. “I have guests. What an… interesting development.”

  “He’s off his tits,” Keynes said, his words clipped.

  Isaac raised his eyebrows, turning a questioning glance on Lizzie’s ever-surprising brother.

  The other man shrugged. “Coke. I know the signs.”

  Hm. Isaac studied Mark’s blown pupils, his shaking hands, the manic edge to his welcoming grin. Yep. High as a kite.

  Might make things easier. Might make them a hell of a lot harder.

  Isaac moved closer to Lizzie, shifting slightly so that he was in front of her. Maybe he was paranoid; but it was better to be paranoid than fucked.

  “What can I do for you, then, gentlemen?” Mark asked grandly, flopping back into his seat. “It’s certainly nice to see you again, Keynes. How long has it been?”

  “Since Vienna?” Keynes asked, his tone mild. “Or since we last spoke?”

  “Ah, but we spoke not long ago. Didn’t we?” Mark raised his eyebrows, but the effect was somewhat ruined when he let out a light burp. “It was only six months ago that you called me about your sister. I’m sure you appreciate the favour I did you, allowing Lizzie to teach my girls. We could have enrolled them into a proper school—”

  “No-one could do better than Lizzie,” Isaac interrupted, his temper flaring. “Cut the shit.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Mark blustered, sweat gathering on his upper lip. Funny; Isaac thought the room was quite cold.

  “You were going to sack me anyway, I'm sure” Lizzie said sharply. “So the favour is done with.”

  “Well! Those pictures—I’m sure you understand." Mark was sweating, just a little. He pulled the pocket square from his blazer, patting at his hairline, staining the silk. "The girls need a positive role model—”

  “But she did exactly what you wanted,” Isaac said quietly. Mark’s sudden silence was loud as an anvil. “You told her to get close to me. Didn’t you? In fact, you forced her.”

  For a moment, Mark’s mouth worked soundlessly, his thin lips opening and closing like those of a gasping fish. Then he croaked out, his eyes panicked, “I don’t know what she told you—”

  “Enough,” Keynes snapped, as though his fraying temper had finally torn. “Be quiet, before the hole you’re digging turns into a grave.” He strode closer to the desk, slamming his briefcase onto its surface, and Mark flinched.

  “We know what you’ve been up to,” Lizzie said. Her voice was light as air, her lips curved into a sweet smile. Only those who truly knew her might detect the undercurrent of icy menace in her voice, the violent gleam in her brown eyes. Isaac heard. Isaac saw. Isaac loved it.

  She moved forwards too, but she reached for Isaac as she did so. Their hands clasped tight as a promise, they stood side by side, facing the pathetic shell of the man who’d tried to ruin them.

  “You’re desperate for money,” Lizzie contin
ued. “Cash disappears fast when one develops such expensive habits. But you’ve always been ambitious, haven’t you? And you are a businessman. So you knew that you had to secure a greater income, to think long term. Which I admire, honestly. Dream big, and all that.”

  “Plus,” Keynes added, rifling through the contents of his now-open briefcase, “extorting lump sums from individuals is all a bit sordid, isn’t it? Not to mention risky. Meeting in dark little corners, exchanging secrets for money… You needed cash cows to pump out a steady, hefty income, since your own hasn’t been cutting it for some time. It’s difficult, isn’t it, marrying the aristocracy? Personally, I don’t recommend it if you’re anything less than a billionaire. The standards these people expect…” He cast a look around the room. “Well, it’s hardly easy to maintain. Is it?”

  Mark clenched his jaw, his gaze narrowing. “You think you have it all figured out?” He hissed. “How clever you must feel. But don’t forget, Keynes—I still have power over you. Or didn’t your sister tell you?” He turned his venomous gaze to Lizzie, and Isaac felt his fists clench of their own accord. “Well, Elizabeth?” The snake continued. “Were you too embarrassed to bring up your brother’s dirty little secret?”

  “What secret?” Keynes interrupted, his voice innocent. “The fact that I’m gay, you mean? Old news, my friend.”

  Mark faltered. He blinked slowly, as if he’d been hit over the head. “I-I beg your pardon?” He stuttered finally.

  Keynes shrugged. “I have come out, as they say. I’ve been disowned and disinherited too, I’m afraid. So I’m hardly worth inclusion in your nasty little plots anymore.”

  Mark stared, his mouth working in silent desperation. Isaac felt satisfaction settle over him, a quiet triumph filling his soul. That was Keynes’s ‘secret’? All of this—the blackmail, the lies, even Keynes and Lizzie being cast aside by their own parents—it was all because Keynes was gay?