Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 151845 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151845 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
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.