Owning His Bride by Sue Lyndon Page A

The entire punishment, from the corner time to the spanking, to the scolding to the butt plug, had been an exercise in trust.
    When he’d spurted his release onto her, he’d also been marking her in his own way, a primal way that still sent ripples of heat through her days later.
    Her nipples peaked and her breathing accelerated. She didn’t resent him for punishing her. Not in the least. The act had brought them closer, and she melted when she closed her eyes and remembered the rest of that evening. He’d helped her up and folded her into his warm embrace, then he’d guided her into the bathroom and helped her clean up, drawing her a bath and running a soapy washcloth over every inch of her body. After rinsing and drying her off, he’d put her in a silky nightdress, carried her back to their bed, and hugged her to his chest while she fell asleep in his arms.
    Even when she’d awoken in the middle of the night, he was still holding her, keeping a hand in her hair while pressing her head right over his heart, as if he knew the exact way she’d dreamed of being held.
    The next morning he’d looked at her with a sort of reverence that stunned her, before he’d straddled her and sank into her, his thrusts slow and gentle, until the final moments of their coupling when he’d pounded her with a ferocity that took her breath away and made her cry out her release.
    Her thoughts, combined with the midday sun, left Becca sweltering and parched. She lifted her hair from her neck and rushed up the beach. Noticing Hunter was busy conversing with one of the workers, she entered their temporary house and got herself a glass of ice-cold water.
    Glancing around at the boxes, most of it Hunter’s belongings, she began unpacking, starting with the kitchen items first. She supposed most of the kitchen and other household items had been acquired at the Interstellar Port. The only personal items of Hunter’s seemed to be his clothing, a few photos, and his travel documents.
    She found a long-expired Florida drivers’ license with his real name—Hunter Calloway. She supposed now she was Mrs. Calloway, and she grinned at his boyish image, probably taken in his late teen years. She also found several photos of a handsome couple she assumed were his parents, business flyers for Calloway Construction, and various news articles about his parents’ murder and his own arrest. Unsure of what to do with the personal items, she arranged them on a bookshelf in their living room. Once she put away the last of their clothing, she stacked the empty boxes against a wall in the spare bedroom and walked through the house, making sure everything was in its proper place.
    Hunter claimed their permanent house would be ready in a little over a week. She couldn’t fathom a house being built so fast and thought all of this, especially the island, must have cost a fortune. She knew the Kemmius guards never had to work another day in their lives once their five years ended, and she respected Hunter for wanting to get his hands dirty, for wanting to farm and be productive rather than buy a fancy house in one of the cities in this sector and spend the rest of his days in leisure.
    In her dark cell, Becca used to dream of returning to Earth. Now, as she peered out the window at the sun glinting off the ocean waves, she didn’t feel a pinch of homesickness. Though she was still getting to know Hunter, she had come to terms with her place as his wife. Logically she knew Kemmius was nothing more than a bride factory for the men adventurous enough to leave Earth. It wasn’t his fault she’d been a prisoner on the cold planet, and she couldn’t begrudge him for wanting to start a family, for wanting to fulfill his own dreams and find happiness after having all his rights stripped from him by a corrupt American government.
    Night came quickly, the sun setting in a swirl of colors that stretched across the horizon. She watched the majestic display of nature while