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‘Nothing,’ Becker assures the caller, giving me a warning look. My eyes close again. He doesn’t let-up. He drives on and on. I’m never going to fight my way through my climax in silence. I start breathing through my nose, feeling every drop of blood in my body rushing south.
‘Look forward to it,’ Becker says evenly, like he hasn’t got a panting woman dripping with need before him.
Then it happens, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. The build-up of heat sizzles and burns, makes me shift and moan and sweat. I start to scream in my head as the pressure between my thighs erupts, sending every nerve ending into spasm.
My body goes slack in the chair, and I use my last ounce of breath to spit out the coaster, eager to capture some valuable oxygen. I peel my eyes open. He’s smirking at me, an adorable, almost innocent grin. My angel eyes. My sinful Saint Becker.
He pulls his fingers free, then spends a few moments keeping me riveted while he licks my release away. ‘Yes,’ he says quietly into the phone. ‘It’s been a very productive call. Thanks, Simon. I’ll see you soon.’ Then he hangs up and slowly rises, my eyes following him until he’s towering over me. ‘Okay?’ he asks.
I make an idiotic attempt of composure. My condition is clear. ‘Super.’ I gulp, closing my legs.
Becker reaches for my hand and pulls abruptly, yanking me to my feet. Our chests collide. His nose touches mine. ‘You’re welcome,’ he says cockily, dropping a hard kiss on my lips. I’m about to laugh, but I’m being swung around before I can engage my mouth.
‘Whoa!’ I cry, my palms slapping onto his desk. I’m pushed down until my front meets the wood. ‘Oh fuck,’ I curse as he keeps me in place with a firm palm on the back of my neck and pulls my dress to my waist. ‘Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.’ I clench my eyes shut.
‘What did you do, princess?’ he asks, his voice like silk. ‘What did you do while I was fucking you with my fingers?’
My fist meets the desk in frustration. ‘Closed my eyes.’
‘And what happens when you do that without my say so?’ He pulls my knickers to the side and strokes my cheek affectionately. Oh my days, Mr H and Mrs Potts would have heart attacks if they walked in now.
‘You spank me.’ I don’t fuck about. Why prolong the inevitable?
‘Precisely.’
Thwack!
My hands lift and ball, then plummet to the desk with force as I grunt through the sting of pain, rather than scream. The burn is something I’m becoming surprisingly accustomed to. It still hurts like hell, but I’m learning to deal with it, learning to breathe my way through it. It’s a good job, because I sense Becker’s spanking habits are here to stay. I roll my forehead onto the desk and pant into the wood. ‘Are you done?’ I ask, feeling him still poised behind me.
‘Just admiring my arse,’ he replies happily, giving it a loving pat before pulling my knickers into place and my dress down. I let him pull me up. ‘Take a seat.’ He points to the chair and rounds his desk, switching quickly into boss-mode. So it’ll be professional on his terms? When Becker says? I lower myself to the seat and brush at my crimson cheeks.
‘Mr Hunt,’ I say, following his lead. ‘I—’
‘Mr Hunt?’ he sighs, exasperated.
‘Sir?’ I try, knowing exactly what response I’ll get to that suggestion.
‘Yes, if you want me to fuck you every time you use it, go right ahead. Call me sir.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘Becker, princess. To you, I’m just Becker.’
My lips stretch into a grin. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Behave,’ he warns, grabbing his mobile and bashing out a text. ‘Pass me your phone,’ he says, and I oblige, unlocking it and sliding it across his desk. He navigates a few screens, then hands it back. ‘I’ve downloaded my private bank’s app. You need to memorise the login details. There are four security questions, all of which you will know the answers to. The answers apply to me. And a facial scan is required as extra security.’
I stare at him in disbelief. ‘You trust me with all your money?’
‘Why, are you going to run off with it?’
I laugh, looking down at my screen, seeing the login screen. ‘And what are the log in details?’
‘Username is SAINT. All upper case.’
I smile as I type it in. ‘Password?’
‘CorruptLittleWitch1992. All lower case with an exclamation mark on the end.’
My smile widens, and as soon as I’ve finished entering, I’m asked Becker’s favourite colour. ‘Red,’ I say as I type. Then another question. ‘Gloria,’ I murmur, my fingers working fast over the keys. The third question makes me smile, and I look up at him. ‘Granny Smiths,’ I say, and he smiles in return. The final question makes me baulk. ‘Seriously?’ I ask.
