‘Yes,’ I don’t hold back. My want is obvious in every breath I draw and every twitch of my buzzing body.
‘Does she love me indulging in this gorgeous arse?’ He bites my neck and thrusts his groin against me severely. I whimper my desperation, and he growls possessively. On a swift, brutal yank, my dress is whipped up to my waist, jolting my body as it goes, exposing my naked backside to his glimmering hazel eyes. ‘Fuck . . . me,’ he sighs, relinquishing all contact. My forehead meets the wall, my eyes squeezing tightly shut. ‘Take your head away from the wall, princess.’
I comply immediately, knowing there’s a damn good reason for his request, and then his hand meets my arse on an ear-piercing smack.
‘Fuck,’ I whisper, the flames instant, and so is the waterfall between my thighs. His hand goes straight between my legs, his fingers sinking into the wetness and spreading far and wide. On a frustrated shout, I ball my fists and clench my teeth, allowing the pleasure to override the sting.
‘Beautiful.’ His front meets my back, his arm curling around my waist and locking me to him tightly. ‘Give me that mouth,’ he orders, nuzzling into my cheek to encourage me. My head turns, my lips finding his in a heartbeat, my balled fists relaxing back into flat palms against the wall. I’m kissed like there’s no tomorrow, ravenously, our tongues duelling, my mind bending.
Then he abruptly pulls away a little, leaving me gasping in his face. ‘I like this one,’ he says, husky and low, flexing his hips into my back to show me just how much. He’s lead behind his sweatpants as he unzips me and lets the leather tumble to the floor. ‘Step out.’ I obey without hesitation, looking down to my feet. He kicks the dress to the side carelessly. His action tells me that the black number isn’t an option at all. The dress is leather, therefore sticks, therefore doesn’t make for a smooth transition from a covered arse to an exposed one. Becker’s considered that in his dirty mind. That dress is a no.
I’m left holding myself up for a few moments while he collects option number two – the green one – and I take a risky peek over my shoulder, groaning under my breath at the sight of his magnificent back. The lines of ink are rolling as he reaches up to the hanger and removes the dress, and though it kills me to relinquish the beautiful view, I quickly face the wall when I see him start to turn. Keep it together, Eleanor.
He makes it to me fast, crouched behind me. ‘This one looks promising.’
I lift my foot, then the other, and stiffen as he pulls it up my body, stopping to drop a sweet kiss on my stinging arse on his way. If I could see him, I know I’d find a satisfied smile on his face, and a fragment of my scrambled mind tells me to devote more time to questioning his kinky quirk. But it’s soon snuffed out by the sound of his voice telling me that it’s only my arse he feels so possessive over. Just mine. No one else’s, and despite my sore bottom currently being less than grateful for this, the perverse part of me smiles on the inside.
‘Arms.’ Becker’s soft instruction puts me back in the showing room, where today I am the piece of art on display. Releasing one at a time, I let him help feed my arms into the dress. My hands are on the wall, my back bowing as Becker draws the zipper up, skimming my skin as he does. The room begins to spin when his palms slide to my front and find my breasts. ‘Hard nipples,’ he whispers, flattening his palms and circling over the material-covered nubs, sending my body further into bedlam. ‘There are just too many parts of you that I want to devote my time to.’
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ I say hoarsely, resisting the urge to release the wall and allow my hands to join his.
‘No, you’re not.’ His hands move fast and whip up the dress, the force nearly lifting my feet from the floor. My eyes clench shut in preparation, my muscles hardening.
His palm collides with my other cheek.
Hard.
Thwack!
I grunt and jolt forward, holding onto my scream, and then his fingers are plunging into me, transforming that suppressed yelp into a moan of pleasure. Becker joins me in my groans, teasing, pumping, circling, feeling. ‘On a scale of one to ten,’ he murmurs, tickling my ear with his dulcet tone. ‘How turned on are you right now?’
My arse is screaming, but nowhere near as loudly as the tight bud of nerves currently being worked carefully. ‘Ten,’ I breathe, circling my hips to increase the friction, feeling the pressure descending from my stomach. Always a ten.
He laughs lightly in my ear and removes his hand, and I whimper my devastation. ‘Shhhh,’ he hushes me, his fingers walking up my front to my throat. ‘We’re nowhere near that ten, princess.’ Wrapping his palm around my neck, he applies a light pressure and guides the back of my head onto his shoulder. ‘I’m enjoying this.’ I bet he is. He manipulates my face to the side and attacks my mouth again, flinging my chaotic mind into blankness with the power of his lips on mine and the force of his tongue exploring my mouth. I whimper, moan, gasp for breath. I can’t think of much, but I can be grateful that we only have one more dress to test in his experiment. I can keep it together for another few minutes.
Becker unzips me while maintaining our passionate kiss, frees my arms from the material, and quickly casts the dress aside. Then he pulls back, panting. I lose myself in the fiery depths of his eyes as he stares at me long and hard. ‘One more,’ he says quietly, and I nod, licking my lips. It wasn’t a question, but I sense he is seeking my consent. One more dress means one more hard whack across my abused arse.
Becker smiles so brightly I can’t help but match it as I shake my head. My wicked-minded man is in his element, and though I’m lacking one desperately needed climax, I’m in my element with him, which makes me as depraved as him. We’re made for each other.
A loving kiss is pushed into my temple as he inhales, before he breaks away and goes to collect the final dress. The barely existent red one. Getting comfy in my standing position, I wait for him to return, knowing the exact moment he’s behind me again. Not because I can hear anything, but because I can smell his clean scent mixed with the apple.
‘This one goes over your head,’ he says, prompting me to push away from the wall and reach into the air. ‘Good girl.’
I smile at his praise as he slips the dress over my arms and pulls it down my body, making a point of grazing my skin as he does. My smile stretches wide. He’s pulling it down into position, just to yank it back up again. Though he won’t need to pull or yank far. The red dress is scarcely a dress. The sound of an approving hum is a good indication that he favours this one above the others but, again, how I look isn’t top of Becker’s agenda.
‘Turn around,’ he instructs gently, helping me on my way by holding my waist. When he comes into view, his obvious awe as he steps back rockets my confidence. I wouldn’t dream of wearing a dress this short, but the look on his face is worth it alone. His eyes are drifting up and down my scantily clad body as his jaw ticks. It’s a sign of him gathering strength. ‘You look too fuckable for your own good.’
I smile as I take a look for myself, my eyes dropping down my front. It’s super tight, but the blood-red fabric has some give, making movement easy. It’s surprisingly comfortable for something that’s clinging to every curve I have.
Becker looks like he’s fighting off the urge to pounce on me, and just when I decide to make my move, tempt him into losing that fight, a sharp crack from outside pulls both of our attention to the door that leads into the courtyard.
‘Dorothy,’ Becker mutters, pacing over. My arms instinctively wrap around my body, trying in vain to conceal the minuscule dress. And the scene from Becker’s office comes flooding back to me the instant I hear the rush of water from the outside tap. She’s filling up her watering can. I haven’t told Becker about my mortifying moment. An arse-spanking session got in the way. Oh God, help me. After torturing the old lady with a special screening of the Becker and Eleanor show, the last thing I want to do is expose her old eyes to
what else we get up to in private. ‘Becker—’
‘Shhhh.’ He puts his finger to his mouth as he pulls the door open a fraction and peeks outside. Not even the glorious sight of Becker’s back can keep my eyes from scanning the floor for my floral sundress, my hands going to the hem of the red number currently gracing my body, ready to peel it off, but I’m grabbed before I can see through my plan to restore my respectable state. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he asks.
My eyes are wide and wary. ‘Getting dressed.’
‘We’re not done yet.’ He whirls me around and takes me back to the wall.
He can’t be serious. ‘Not when Mrs Potts is outside,’ I whisper-shout, glancing back to the door, checking for any signs of bolts or padlocks. There’s nothing. My panic is ignored and my hands taken and placed on the wall. ‘Becker, we can’t.’ My hips are claimed and tugged back. ‘Please, not when . . . ohhhh . . .’ My head drops back, the feel of expert lips dotting kisses across my neck. The fact that Mrs Potts is lurking outside is forgotten in a moment, my mind now centred on my sinful boyfriend and the sinful things he does to me.
‘Feel good, princess?’ he asks cockily. I nod my head for fear of yelping my pleasure, and Becker chuckles, the gorgeous sweet sound resonating deeply. When his fingers toy with the hem of the red dress, I hold my breath, waiting for the movement that will jolt me. But it doesn’t happen. I look down, finding the dress still in place. What is he waiting for? ‘Your arse looks amazing in this dress.’ He’s having a moment, admiring my backside. Then his arms fly up, taking the dress with it. Not that I feel it. My body doesn’t move an inch, but the dress is now around my waist. ‘And, fuck me, if it doesn’t slide like silk across your skin.’ An apple appears in my field of vision. ‘Open.’
My eyes bug as I stare at the shiny green fruit, and I hear Mrs Potts only metres away, nothing but a single unlocked door between us. This feels so wrong, yet my mouth still drops open and Becker pushes the apple between my lips.
‘Bite.’
I sink my teeth in and close my eyes. In my darkness, I hear what sounds like scratching at the door, followed swiftly by a gruff bark.
‘In a minute, Winston,’ Becker mutters under his breath. ‘I’m nearly done.’
I tense, suddenly registering that each of my cheeks has taken a solid slap from my previous ‘fittings’. So which one gets double-whammy? Both are still lightly pulsing from the aftermath of Becker’s punishing palm. Given the choice, I can’t say which one I’d prefer to take another blow.
Not that there’s a hope of me being given the choice.
Or the time to prepare.
The flesh of my right cheek erupts into an angry inferno of flames on the loudest thwack, and it’s his most brutal delivery yet. My scream is muffled by the apple in my mouth, and tears spring into my eyes. Holy shit! My body flies forward and begins to convulse in shock. It’s too much . . . until those talented fingers find their way to my core again. Then I’m faced with the conflicting sensations of pleasure and pain. I start to sweat, feeling his lips creeping over the top of my exposed shoulders. I can’t cope with the heady mixture.
Then he throws a curveball when he matches the brutal slap with another to my left cheek. This time, I grit my teeth, so hard I bite a huge chunk from the apple, sending the rest of the fruit tumbling to the floor. I spit out what I’ve bitten off and drink in air, set to let out an almighty bellow of shock, frustration, pain, passion. But a hand slaps over my mouth, silencing me.
Motherfucker!
I have a cursing party in my head, thumping my fists against the wall. The sting is biting, but Becker’s working hard, thrusting into me wildly, finger-fucking me into a mind-numbing oblivion. My hips start meeting his circling, matching his rhythm, desperation coiling me up like a tight spring. He better hold onto me when this orgasm hits, because I’m set to go bouncing off around the room. I’ve lost control of everything. My body is moving instinctively, searching for the release that will settle me down. It’s there. Not far away. I’m reaching for it, trying to seize it and hold on tightly, but it keeps slipping away defiantly.
‘Fuck,’ Becker curses on my behalf. He must sense I’m plateauing, because a second later, his mouth is at my ear. ‘Keep quiet,’ he rumbles, slowly removing his hand from my mouth. I savour the rush of oxygen filling my strained lungs. I can hear the faint snuffles of Winston that I conclude are him sniffing at the door, investigating the sounds, and probably the smell, too. I just hope Mrs Potts doesn’t notice his inquisitiveness and comes to find out what has his attention. And I’m not hoping because I’m worried she’ll cop another load of my naked body. I’m hoping because I don’t think even an audience would stop me taking what I need from Becker right now.
‘Please,’ I whimper feebly, desperately feeling the wall like I can find what I’m looking for there.
He answers by kicking my legs apart before pulling his sweatpants down a little and guiding himself to me. The feel of him simply brushing at my entrance cools the burning ache within me. Then he rams forward and dowses it completely. There’s no need to break me in. I’m saturated, which is a good job because we haven’t time to mess about. Becker finds his flow immediately and charges forward repeatedly, banging into me at an epic rate. It’s what I need. Full force to slam the elusive orgasm out of me. His fingers claw into my hips and yank me back onto him, my body bending to give him better leverage.
‘Oh shit,’ I gasp at the wall, grappling for support and not finding it.
‘Come on, baby. Focus.’
‘I’m trying,’ I choke, feeling the blood gush into my core. I tense everything, closing my eyes as Becker continues to attack me with his powerful drives.
‘Claim it, Eleanor,’ he hisses, jacking me up on every thrust.
The force of my climax when it hits nearly takes me out.
‘Go on, baby.’ He bucks one last time and grunts, holding me against his groin as every muscle turns to mush and renders me limp and lifeless. I fall back, going dizzy, the bolts of pleasure hitting me from every direction, coming and coming and coming. I’m struggling to find my breath, relying on Becker to support me. ‘I’ve got you,’ he says calmly, his arm appearing over my shoulder, bracing against the wall as he holds me to him with his other.
My head rests back against him, and I find the strength to lift my arms and hook them over his neck. I swear, I could fall asleep standing in his arms. ‘You didn’t come,’ I mumble drowsily, shuddering when he pulls his hips back and lets his still-solid cock slip free.
‘You needed that more than I did.’ His sweatpants ping back into place as he rains kisses on my damp, flustered face. He turns me in his arms and flicks eyes full of wonder down the dress that’s all bunched around my waist. ‘We have a winner.’
I laugh loudly, forcing Becker to quickly cover my mouth again. ‘Sorry,’ I mumble against his fingers.
‘You will be.’ Replacing his hand with his mouth, he lifts me from my feet and pins me to the wall while he devotes a few moments to lovingly kissing me back to life. ‘You’re quite a distraction in the workplace, Miss Cole. I might have to enforce punishments.’
I bite his lip. ‘You’ve just spanked my arse to Italy and back. I should slap your face.’
My lip is bitten in return, a smile building on his flawless face. It surpasses sexy. He looks sinful. He is sinful. My half-hearted threat hasn’t fazed him in the slightest. ‘Lucky arse.’ His throaty tone could easily get me ready for round two.
‘I’ll make your face glow brighter than my backside,’ I counter.
‘I like it when you talk dirty to me.’
‘I’m not talking dirty.’
‘Say “renaissance”,’ he whispers in my face, low and sexy. My stomach flips as he takes my wrists and thrusts my arms up the wall behind me.
‘No,’ I breathe.
His knee
comes up and pushes into my centre, and I damn myself to hell for groaning like a sorry, desperate idiot.
‘Say—’
‘Never.’
‘Winston!’ Mrs Potts shrill scorn interrupts our back and forth, and we both whip our eyes over to the door. ‘Come away from there,’ she orders sternly.
‘Oh fuck, here comes Mrs Trunchbull,’ Becker jokes, though there’s nothing to joke about, and he might agree when I’ve shared the news that I’m yet to share. I pull the red dress off urgently and make a grab for my floral sundress, swooping it up off the floor.
‘Your granddad and Mrs Potts were checking the CCTV footage for rats earlier,’ I tell him as I hurry into my dress.
Woof!
‘Winston, come here!’
Becker frowns. ‘I’ve told him, there are no rats. I have the place laced with fucking poison.’ He starts to gather up the other dresses from the floor, the material of his sweatpants stretching over his taut arse. The sight makes my frantic motions falter for a split second.
Woof!
‘For goodness’ sake, there’s nothing in there.’ Mrs Potts annoyed words soon snap me back to life.
I wrestle with my dress. ‘They found something a little more disturbing than rats.’
‘Like what?’ Becker remains bent at the waist, collecting up the black leather dress.
‘Like footage on the CCTV of you screwing me like you might never have sex again.’
Becker shoots up and gawks at me. ‘What?’
‘In the corridor the night I left.’
Recognition lands on his face, his mouth dropping open. ‘Oh fuck.’
I nod my head in agreement. ‘I happened to be in your office with your gramps when he stumbled upon it. Then Mrs Potts joined us, too.’
Wicked Truths (Hunt Legacy Duology Book 2) Page 17
