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My heels hit the mosaic tiles of the entrance hall, and I dip and weave through the scattered crowds, apologising constantly for bumping into people as I go.
Then I’m suddenly not moving any more. I yelp when something grabs my wrist and yanks me to a stop, nearly pulling my shoulder out of its socket, and before I register who, what and how, I’m being guided back through the crowds. Becker’s unique smell invades my nose, his arm coiled around my waist. ‘Get off me,’ I spit, wriggling to free myself.
‘Shut the fuck up, princess.’
‘Go to hell.’ My feet are barely touching the ground as he moves with conviction, looking straight ahead and ignoring all of the curious looks coming our way.
He heads to the right, taking us through a ballroom that has an orchestra set up in the corner, and then down a corridor. I’m pushed into the room, and the door slams loudly. I take a quick glimpse around to see where he’s taken me. There’s a fireplace, large and elaborate with stone carvings, and huge armchairs scattered here and there. It’s a smoking room.
He points a finger in my face, snarling. ‘There’s not one thing in this world that pisses me off more than you.’
He’s got a nerve. I’ve done nothing wrong. ‘Back at ya, Hunt.’ My eyes, damn my eyes, automatically drop to his crotch. I suck my lip between my teeth when I see he’s solid. Because he finds himself hard, even when he’s mad with me. I look up through my lashes at him, to the poised, het-up beast of a man before me.
Who’s loaded to the eyeballs with craving.
He releases a strangled growl, and the next second, he lunges at me, tackling my body and virtually throwing me at the wall. My mouth is taken greedily, hard and forceful, and I accept it all, bringing my leg up, curling my thigh around his waist. But he pushes it down aggressively, biting on my lip. My protest gets no further than my throat before I’m spun around, pushed front-forward into the wall, meeting it with force. I feel his hand meet the back of my thigh, and I clench my eyes shut, knowing what’s coming. He wrenches the hem of my dress up.
Smack!
I scream, a mixture of pain and delight, before he flings me back around and grabs me behind my thighs, hauling me up to his body. One hand holds me in place against the wall while his other makes quick work of freeing himself from the confines of his trousers.
Then on a carnal roar, he levels himself up and smashes into me, jerking me up the wall. The shock invasion has me slamming my head back, clawing at the material of his tuxedo at his shoulders.
Holding still, he pants into my neck, giving me a few needed moments to meld around his solid cock. ‘Start breathing, princess,’ he orders, slowly slipping free.
His command reminds me that I’m holding my breath, and I let it sail out, beginning to shake in his hold. I stare up at the ceiling, bracing myself for him. This is going to be hard. He reeks power, is leaking with a need to possess me. And then it happens. His first forceful slam into me. I find his neck to muffle my scream, not resisting the need to bite down onto his shoulder through his suit. He doesn’t hold back, ignoring any pain I might be causing from my vicious bite. He repeatedly and forcefully plunges deeply, thrusting me up the wall on low grunts, hitting me harshly each and every time.
‘Becker,’ I yell, detecting the first sign of release on the horizon.
‘Me too,’ he confirms, increasing his pace to an almost unbearable level. There’s no time between each of his drives to recover. The pain is constant, but so is the pleasure. His face remains submerged in my neck as he drives us to ultimate rapture. We’re both just clinging onto each other, grappling, clumsy and chaotic.
My build up is gradual, almost annoyingly slow, but when it finally hits, it literally takes me out. ‘Shit,’ I choke into Becker’s shoulder, solidifying in his hold as surges of pleasure rip through my body like an epic tornado. ‘Jesus,’ I breathe.
‘Yeah,’ he whispers, jacking me up the wall and joining me in my spiralling ecstasy, his cock swelling and pulsing, compressing against my internal walls.
I feel deliciously full and sated, still tingling, still constricting around him as I peel my eyes open and push my lips into his wet neck, sucking gently. But my contented attention is interrupted when something across the room catches my eye.
Alexa.
She’s standing in the doorway, holding the handle. Watching us. I hold her eyes for an age, relishing in the desolation she’s trying to hide, before slowly turning my attention back to Becker. I nuzzle into his cheek until he turns his face and lets me at his mouth. And I kiss him, slowly, lovingly and like he belongs to me. Because he does.
