Artful Lies (Hunt Legacy Duology 1)

I use what strength I have to lift my head and open my eyes, leaving me without any remaining energy to answer him. I nod, looking him straight in the eye as I gasp for breath. Every nerve ending I possess is screaming excitedly, the ones at my centre the loudest when his mouth starts to drift forwards, his eyes never leaving mine.

‘You’ll watch,’ he whispers, flicking his tongue out to catch the zinging tip of my clit.

‘Oh shit.’ I blink, keeping my eyes closed a moment too long.

‘Open,’ he barks, slapping my arse with an accurate palm.

My eyes open wide in shock, the hard whack not only putting me in my place, but reminding me I’ve already been here once before. The sting is instant. So is the thrill.

‘Do as you’re told,’ he warns, gliding his palm over the tender spot. ‘Or don’t do as you’re told. Choice is yours.’

The choice is mine. Whether I get another pound to my arse is my choice. That’s what he means. He gets as much pleasure out of spanking my arse as he does out of having me obediently comply with his commands. And much to my surprise, so do I. He talks dirty. He fucks dirty. He does business dirty.

And I love it. I shouldn’t, but I do. It’s as though until now, my life has suffocated me. Stifled me. But somehow, this dirty, controlling, sexy man is breathing much-needed air into me.

I nod my understanding and watch with rapt attention as he comes closer again, except this time he takes longer, driving me wild with impatience. ‘Hurry,’ I let the word slip past my lips and immediately regret it. Because now he’ll do the exact opposite. He pulls away, smiling cunningly.

My eyes close, devastated, angry and insane with desperation.

Thwack!

‘Fuck,’ I yell, my hips shooting forward, my arse feeling like it has burst into flames.

‘Open your goddamn eyes, Eleanor.’

‘Becker, please.’

Slap!

‘Open.’

‘Ah,’ I scream, clawing my nails into his shoulders, throwing my head back in despair. My vicious act has little effect.

Thwack!

‘I told you, princess. Choice is yours.’

My screams are not filled with pain. Yes, it stings like a fucking bitch each and every time he tans my arse, but the frustration . . . it’s making me lose my mind. I’m buzzing between my thighs, dripping with need, fraught with desperation to find that explosion. I realise I’m my own worst enemy, but insanity is preventing me from finding the reason I need to fix that. I could cry.

‘What’s it to be?’ He grabs my nipple and twists, multiplying that frustration by a million. ‘I’ll slap this gorgeous arse all fucking week long, princess. And I’ll love every minute of watching it heat and cool between my strikes.’ He rubs at my burning bottom, and I finally convince my lids to peel open and reacquaint myself with who’s before me.

Becker.

Smug Becker.

On his knees, ready to give me the orgasm of my life. All I need to do is watch him give me that orgasm. Sounds easy as pie. In theory. It’s a shame theory isn’t reality.

I pull it together, reaching up to wipe the sheen of sweat from my forehead. My hair’s wet, sticking to my damp skin. I’m a sexed-up mess. ‘I’m ready,’ I declare, stabilising my legs and breathing in. I’ve never been reduced to this before. I’ve never had to psyche myself up for an orgasm. Shit, this infuriating man has me constantly dancing on the edge of madness.

‘You sure about that?’ He cocks a self-assured brow at me, stroking my heated arse cheeks simultaneously before giving each a cheeky squeeze. ‘No more spanking?’

‘No more spanking.’ I speak through gritted teeth, my flushed cheeks receiving a new dimension of red. I’m guessing they’re crimson now, the craving and anger mixed together creating a vivid hue. ‘Make me come, Becker.’

‘With the greatest of pleasure,’ he says on a calculated smirk, licking straight up the centre of my core while watching me, waiting for me to give him the green light to indulge in my arse again. It takes everything out of me, but I manage to keep my eyes from closing. Another long lick starts the shakes in my legs, and another carries the shakes up my torso. I’m trembling, feeling the agonising slow build-up of pressure swirling in my lower tummy. I need to grab it. I need to concentrate. My hips start to sway with Becker’s motions, rolling on to his mouth in perfect time with his firm, long licks.

Closing my eyes is the natural thing to do, but the threat of him stopping helps me through the struggle. As do his hazel eyes, which are still looking at me, watching me falling apart before him. The build, the anticipation.

My climax strikes me with a force I’m unable to comprehend. ‘Oh my God.’ I come undone when he latches on to my clitoris and sucks softly, yet I keep my gaze on Becker, the appreciation and pure satisfaction staring back at me making it easy. My body convulses, every muscle solidifying. Clenching my bum cheeks, he pushes me on to his mouth to finish me, sucking my release from the deepest parts of my body. It flows and flows, the pleasure, the scream, the tension. I’m mesmerised by his tongue slowly swirling, being as gentle as can be as I pulse against him. ‘Perfect,’ I breathe, sliding my hands up his neck and on to his head, giving his mousy, messed-up hair a tug. Good God, the man has serious mouth talent.