Owning His Bride (8 page)

“I’m nervous, Hunter.”

“I won’t hurt you, little one. I promise. Now lie down and spread your legs.” The gentle note in his voice contrasted with the commanding tone he’d used earlier.

She sighed and moved off his lap. With his gaze never leaving her, she arranged herself atop the covers and started to part her legs, only to stop and clamp her thighs together. Heat had been quickening in her center the whole time she’d been seated on his lap. What if she spread her legs and he found her soaking wet? She’d never responded to a man so wantonly before.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Becca. It’s okay if your pussy is wet. In fact, it will please me greatly if it is.”

Damn him for reading her mind once again. She glared at him hard for a minute before thrusting her legs apart.

* * *

Hunter almost chuckled, thinking Becca looked especially adorable while flustered, but he restrained his laugh and instead let his gaze wander to her bare folds that glistened with her arousal. “Spread wider.”

She obeyed, her blush deepening to a dark pink that rivaled the color of her punished bottom.

“Good girl.”

A shiver rippled down her body. Hunter watched her struggling to remain open to him on the bed, knowing she wished to crawl under the covers and hide. He stood up and unfastened his pants, stepping out of them while Becca looked on with wide eyes. He shed his shirt next and pushed his briefs down. Her mouth parted when his engorged cock sprang free, and she sucked in a shaky breath that incited his desire further.

He climbed on the bed and straddled Becca, his hard length throbbing against her inner thigh. Tremors besieged her, and she parted her legs wider without any prompting from him. He trailed a finger down her cheek and neck, traveling lower until he grazed her right breast. She arched into his touch, and he leaned down and latched onto her nipple, holding it between his teeth while he licked at the stiffened peak. Her keening moans and the salty taste of her skin beckoned him to seek out her other breast, and he paid the same careful attention to this nipple, lapping all around with his tongue and pressing her to the bed when she started twisting around. He enjoyed her halfhearted struggle and bit down on her nipple until she stilled.

“Oh, please,” she said breathlessly. “Please.”

“Say that again, Becca. I like hearing you beg.” He slipped a hand between her thighs and stroked her wetness, discovering her hot and swollen and ready to be taken. But he wouldn’t claim her yet. He wanted her wanton and mindless with desire before he finally sank his cock into her, wanted her clawing at him and arching her center up to invite his entrance.

He placed her hands above her head and gave her a stern look. “Keep your hands there, little one.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to tease you. I’m going to part your smooth pussy lips and lick you all over, and I don’t want your hands getting in the way of my explorations.”

She pushed at him, and he made a show of returning her hands above her head, then he swatted her left breast. She gasped and lifted her hands, but when he moved to swat her other breast, she cried out and put her hands back into place. Her face twisted with frustration. Since she caught herself in time, instead of slapping her breast, he only tapped it lightly.

Satisfied that she would at least attempt to obey, he began kissing her all over, starting with her neck and working his way down. She responded to each touch of his lips to her skin with a shiver, a moan, or a whimper. By the time he reached her stomach she was lifting her hips up and spreading her legs wider. The scent of her arousal enticed him, and he put his mouth to her mons and teased her with slow, deliberate licks. He splayed her wet folds apart, exposing the sweetness within and her swollen red clit. He tapped the nubbin and she jerked, a spasm rocking her as she issued another round of mindless pleas.

He circled her clit with his tongue and she undulated against his mouth. He shoved two fingers into her hot wet channel and implemented a steady thrusting motion while he tormented her most sensitive spot.

Her feminine scent and the taste of her nearly drove him mad with need, and it took all his self-control not to straddle her again so he could sink deep in her pussy.

Soon. He would take her soon. For now, he focused on her pleasure and how loud he could make her groan while he circled her clit. She lifted her hips in a rhythm against his probing tongue, and he thrust his fingers in and out of her tight wet center faster, deeper.

“Hunter!” she cried out while he continued the precise motions on her clit, applying more pressure as she fell apart in his arms. The bed quaked with her shudders, and when he finally pulled back from her pussy, he still had her lips splayed open, giving him an unfettered view of her swollen pink mound.

He straddled her and positioned his cock at her slick entrance, then surged deep inside her with one hard thrust.

His wife.

The moment washed over him as he stared into her startled eyes. She was his wife, this sweet young lady named Becca.

He stilled and groaned at her exquisite tightness. God, she felt perfect, panting underneath him with her damp hair in disarray after she’d just shattered in his hold.

She bit her lip and looked at him uncertainly. “Can I, um, can I move my hands now? Can I touch you?” Her innocent question made his length jerk inside her, and her walls seemed to clamp down even tighter around him in response.

“Yes,” he said, his voice strained. “You can touch me, Becca.”

She reached out and ran her fingers down his chest, staring at him in awe. Emotion clogged in his throat, and a primal urge to protect her surged through him. The thought of any harm ever coming to his little wife sent a painful pang through his heart. He withdrew partially from her pussy and immediately thrust into her again. She held his stare and her startled look transformed to one of pure bliss.

Hunter
. She’d said his name while she was coming, and it had thrilled him to hear his name on her lips while she cried out her release. Not slowing as he pumped into her, he sought out her clit and tapped at her sensitive bit of flesh, still plumped from her arousal. She leaned up and wrapped her arms around his waist. A sheen of perspiration glistened on both their bodies, and the sound of their moans and flesh slapping against flesh filled the room.

“Are you going to be a good girl and come for me again, Becca?”

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but only a whimper escaped. She clutched his sides and he fucked her harder, faster, until she cried out his name again and again. Her head fell to the side and she went limp in his arms, but her eyes remained open and that blissful expression stayed on her face. At least she hadn’t passed out. She was still with him, just utterly exhausted.

The first wave of his orgasm swept through him, and he came inside Becca with a roar, pumping into her and filling her with his seed. After the final jerking pulses of his release faded, he pulled out of her and couldn’t get her in his arms fast enough. He’d never considered himself a fan of cuddling, but he could hold Becca next to him all day and never tire of it.

Soft and warm, she snuggled up against his chest and fell fast asleep. Once her breaths slowed and deepened, he touched the scars on her thighs, trying to guess how old they were. He suspected this horror had befallen her at least a year ago, long before he’d ever been assigned to Block C, long before he’d ever glimpsed Becca.

He drew the covers over both of them, brushed her hair behind her ears, and kissed her forehead. He’d always planned to select a bride from the prison. The laws in this sector of space did not favor women in the least, and no sane woman traveled this far from Earth all by herself. Unless he traveled to an inhabited planet closer to Earth, finding a single woman to share the rest of his life with would’ve been impossible. Though he felt certain no authorities from his home planet were looking for him, he still had no desire to venture near Earth.

His parents had been murdered on Earth. He’d been imprisoned on Earth, spent twenty-three hours of each day for seven years straight in a dark, damp cell at a rundown correctional facility in Alaska, where all those convicted of federal offenses on American soil were sent. Most of the millions of prisoners in the cold state would never see the light of day again. He’d been lucky to have an uncle willing to pay for a good lawyer, or he would probably be locked in that cell at this very moment.

The warden at Kemmius had reminded him of the warden in Alaska, and Hunter refused to take any shit from the man after witnessing him forcing two guards out into the cold for the night, all because one of the inmates on their block went missing for a few hours. Even though the woman was eventually found hiding in the kitchen, the guards nearly froze to death in the brutally cold Kemmius night winds.

Hunter had immediately started spying on the warden, snapping pictures, and hacking into his computer to collect little snippets of evidence against the man the Kemmius high council had put in charge of their women’s prison. The first time the warden threatened Hunter, Hunter threatened to provide the high council with evidence of the warden’s alcohol abuse. The prison was supposed to be completely dry, and even the guards and other staff who lived there weren’t permitted to possess or consume alcohol. After this threat, the warden backed down for a few months. The next time he got in Hunter’s way, Hunter issued another threat, and so on down the line, until the warden finally realized he held no sway over Hunter.

It disturbed him that the warden had intended to claim Becca as his bride, and it troubled him that the warden would probably select another woman from the thousands of prisoners. The man was the embodiment of evil and didn’t deserve his five-year payout, let alone a wife that he would own by law. The poor woman, whoever she might be, would be lucky to survive their wedding night.

He looked at Becca sleeping so peacefully and made his decision. When the transport docked at the Interstellar Port, he would hand over all the evidence he had against the warden to the proper authorities. He’d placed all the evidence on a computer chip, just in case he ever needed it. According to the other guards, the previous wardens had been just as bad, if not worse, than the current one. Hunter had never turned him in as a result, thinking the enemy he knew was better than one he didn’t.

Becca murmured something indecipherable in her sleep and rolled over, taking the covers with her. Her punished bottom peeked out from the sheets, and he reached over to caress her reddened flesh. He hadn’t told her about their impending stop at the Interstellar Port, considering her last experience there. He hoped the detour didn’t cause her too much strife, and he planned to restrict her to the transport while they were docked.

She sighed and rolled further to the side of the bed, exposing her entire backside, and his cock hardened at the vision. God, she was an angel, and she was all his.

He reached for her, and with a soft murmur she turned over and settled against his chest. Tucking the covers around her, he breathed in her fragrant floral scent and thrilled at the feel of her warm skin next to his. He smoothed her hair from her face and kissed her forehead.

Memories of the last woman Hunter had held in his arms resurfaced unbidden. After his arrest, his fiancée, Frieda, had left him just weeks before their wedding. Believing him guilty and an embarrassment to her pristine reputation, she hadn’t even stuck around for his trial. The wounds left by her betrayal no longer cut as deep when he gazed upon his new wife.

His Becca.

Chapter Six

Becca couldn’t believe Hunter had locked her in their quarters. Not only that, but he’d announced they were docking at the Interstellar Port a mere ten minutes before their arrival. He’d calmly instructed her to ‘stay put’ and behave herself while he placed an order for supplies. No matter how hard she banged on the door or how many number combinations she entered on the security pad, she couldn’t find a way out. She felt like a child who’d been banished to her room.

Tears burned in her eyes. Her wrist markings must embarrass him. She couldn’t think of any other reason for her confinement. He obviously didn’t wish to walk through the Interstellar Port with a Kemmius woman by his side. She scratched at her markings, hating the constant reminder of the worst years of her life.

She paced the room a thousand times and still Hunter didn’t return. He’d disposed of her prison uniform just before his departure, leaving her with nothing to wear, so she’d searched through his belongings and donned the longest shirt she could find. The garment taunted her with his woodsy masculine scent, and try as she might, she couldn’t vanquish him from her thoughts.

Her frustration mounted, and when she heard the door zipping open, she snatched one of her shoes from the floor and hurled it toward the noise. The shoe thudded against the wall, missing Hunter by a mile. She seethed and looked around for the matching shoe.

“Becca, that’s enough.” He walked inside, holding two large pink boxes.

Glancing at the clock beside the bed, she did the math in her head. Five hours. He’d locked her up for five hours while he went shopping by himself, all because her status as a former Kemmius inmate shamed him. She spotted the other shoe, picked it up, and tossed it straight at his head. He ducked and placed the boxes on the floor, and then he was at her side like lightning.

“I said that’s enough!” He hauled her against his body and peered down at her, his eyes darkening and flashing with anger.

If she wasn’t so upset herself, fear might have lanced through her at his visible fury. But she was too mad to care about anything else, too infuriated to consider the consequences of her behavior.

“You will calm yourself, Becca!”

She pushed at his chest, and he gave her a brief but hard shake.

“You bastard! If a woman with Kemmius markings on her wrists shames you so much, perhaps you should’ve left me in the prison!”