Artful Lies (Hunt Legacy Duology 1)

‘How have I pissed you off?’ I pant.

‘By making me want you so fucking much.’ My hands are suddenly held in one of his, giving him one spare. I clench my eyes shut when I comprehend exactly what he plans on doing with it.

Imagine how red your cheeks will be when I’m through with you.

But nothing prepares me for the force he puts behind it. His palm comes down and delivers a stinger of a slap to my arse, stealing my breath. ‘Fucking hell, Becker.’

‘Oh, yeah, princess.’ His touch is soft now, massaging the burning pain on my bottom, stroking delicately, lovingly. ‘I’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve pissed me off.’ His hand leaves my right cheek, and though I can’t see, I painfully accept that it’s getting ready to connect harshly with my backside again. Yet something unreasonably stubborn prevents me from pleading with him to stop. I take a deep breath and turn my face into the pillow, just in time for his belter of a thwack. My body jolts, my teeth clamp down on the material of my pillow as my muffled scream rings in my ears. I only vaguely register my immense gratitude that he chose my left side this time. But now both cheeks are burning, probably glowing bright red, and I’m sweating, concentrating on stabilising my breathing while Becker rubs some life back into my arse. We’re both heaving, our bodies sweating, except where my breathlessness is a mixture of exhaustion and craving, I know Becker’s is simply raw desire. He has plenty of energy, and it’s beginning to scare the crap out of me. What have I got myself into? ‘Are you sore, princess?’

‘Yes,’ I wheeze, seeing no point in denying it, and knowing he gets a sick thrill from having it confirmed. The bastard.

He keeps his hold on me and inches down my back, dragging his lips across my skin as he goes, sending me delirious, my eyes rolling in my head as I moan and groan and twitch and whimper. ‘You really aren’t getting the hang of this silence business, are you?’

I moan again in reply and hear him chuckle. I don’t take his amusement as acceptance of my defiance, or my inability to shut the hell up. He’ll find a way to put me in my place, but he’s stark raving mad if he expects a woman to keep quiet when he’s inflicting this kind of pleasure and pain on them. And if there is any woman in existence who has, then I’d like to meet her and shake her hand. Or rip her head off.

His lips reach my bum, and he hums in approval, rubbing his palm gently across the two peaks. ‘Perfect,’ he says, dropping a light kiss on each before crawling back up my body and dropping his mouth to my ear again. ‘Now that’s the kind of red I wanted to see. Your arse carries rouge as well as your hair. Fucking beautiful.’

‘Make the most of it.’ I just can’t help myself.

He bites my ear, and I feel him smile against it. ‘Still stinging?’

I close my eyes and nod, praying he’s through with the spanking session. ‘Probably for another week.’ Could possibly be a year. It’s on fire.

I hear the rip of a packet, and I see him in my mind’s eye pulling a condom from the foil with his teeth. His sharp inhale makes me want to spin over and watch him sheathe himself, but his hold on me is solid. I’m going nowhere until Becker lets me.

‘Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?’ His fingertip travels the crease of my bum, down to the apex of my thighs. I hold my breath as his touch slips easily across my opening. And it’s no wonder. I’m dripping wet. He’s just slapped me stupid. I should be 100 per cent fucked off, but I’m ashamed to admit I’m only mildly miffed. The majority of me is begging for all he has to give.

‘What’s taken you so long?’ I push the question past my fitful breaths.

‘A fucking conscience I never knew I had.’ He surprises me with his answer as he slowly pushes two fingers into me, purposely breathing deeply in my ear. ‘I need to make you sore here, too.’

My body bucks beneath him and every internal muscle I possess grabs on tightly, never wanting to let go.

‘Every time you talk about work, about my treasure, my cock turns to stone.’ He thrusts deeper with his fingers, and I whimper. ‘Every time I see you lost in what you love, my fucking dead heart kicks a little.’ Another hard thrust, one that blanks my mind from reading too much into that statement.

‘Becker.’

‘You want me, Eleanor? Do you want me buried inside of you, fucking you hard until you beg me to stop?’