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)
My feet are moving before my brain engages, taking me slowly and mindlessly towards the glass wall that guards his grand hall. I hold the sheet close to my body, like it can protect me. But I don’t think there’s anything that can protect me from Becker Hunt and his debased world. Not my conscience, not my sensibility, and definitely not my heart.
The Grand Hall comes into view below, and I drink it all in, every exquisite inch of it.
And then I see him. He’s the most beautiful thing in a room full of some of the world’s most stunning treasures. He’s naked, sitting in a Louis XIV armchair, his body slumped, his elbow resting on the arm, his heavy head propped on his palm. Every muscle on his torso is accentuated by his position. For once, they don’t keep my attention for very long. I look up at his blank face staring at nothing, his glasses resting on his perfect nose. He looks . . . lost. Because he is. He’s lost in our maze, and it is unfamiliar territory for Becker Hunt. My hand comes up to feel the glass, like in a strange sense I’m telling him I’m here. He left me in his bed to immerse himself in the chaos of the Grand Hall. To find calm amid the bedlam. I know that. Because I know him.
I smile, ignoring the irony of me standing here looking down on him. He’s a statue, unmoving for ages, but then his head tilts and his eyes slowly climb the empty space under the mezzanine floor beneath me until they reach the base of the glass wall and take their time creeping up my legs.
Something inside of me explodes when our stares meet. I struggle to catch my breath, my hand dropping from the glass, my body discreetly heaving.
That bang was my heart. It’s his, there’s no denying it. I’m all his, and it is the best thing that has ever happened to me.
His face is still straight, the contours of his jaw sharp, almost annoyed as he stares up at me like I’m an intruder. I guess I am. To Becker, I’m the worst kind of intruder. I smile knowingly down at him, and he starts to rise from the chair. I watch as he straightens to his full height, taking his sweet time about it, extending the torture of his muscles stretching out with the movement. He’s bare. Beautiful. A piece of art.
And I own him. He is my most treasured possession. I love him.
He must see it in me now. It must be written on every inch of my skin. In my eyes every time I look at him.
His lips slowly curve.
It’s beautiful.
It’s rueful.
It’s my Saint Becker Boy Hunt.
I smile right back, watching as he flicks his head a little, indicating for me to join him. I shake mine and do something on impulse, opening up my sheet and exposing my naked body to him. His smile stays firmly in place as his eyes journey down and back up, his head bobbing mildly, silently appraising me. Then he points at his chest before flicking a finger up to the glass, asking if he should come to me.
I nod.
He moves fast, virtually sprinting to the wooden door, and I race to meet him. My heart sings with frantic beats as I dash for the door, throwing it open and charging down the stone steps. The cool air tickles my skin for a few seconds before pure elation snuffs it. That smile. It said nothing and everything.
I hear the slaps of his bare feet hitting the steps, his heavy breathing drowning out my own gasps for breath. And then I see him for a split second before he crashes into me, grabbing me and throwing me against the wall. He says nothing, just attacks my mouth with an unfathomable force, swallowing me up in the passion of his kiss. His tongue stabs and laps greedily, and we moan – desperate, impatient, hungry moans.
He lifts me from my feet and starts to take the stairs, our mouths still sealed, my legs coming up and seizing his waist. My hair is being tugged, his hand is squeezing my bum, and my own hands are going wild, grappling at his naked back. We’re frenzied. Mindless. Clumsy and loud. My back meets something soft, Becker coming down with me, his mouth breaking from my lips and nibbling its way down to my breasts as his hand climbs the inside of my thigh.
My head starts to shake from side-to-side as I writhe on his bed, my hands coming up to cover my eyes. His fingers push into me. ‘Becker.’
He hums, nipping a nipple in turn, at the same time dragging his hand slowly from between my legs. I bite back my scream, squirming beneath him. ‘Over you go.’ He takes my hips and flips me onto my front, then starts to pull me to my hands and knees. The gesture snaps me from my euphoria like a bucket of ice water’s just been poured over my head.