Page 14 of Virginity Sold

“Shut up and sign the fucking form or you won’t be going and can wait another year.”

I can’t hold it any longer and laughter bursts from me at his frustration with my brother. It reminds me of how Kyrian used to question Dad about everything.

“Okay, now that’s over, Killian, just for the hell of it, look over your hard and soft limit list and see if you want to add or change anything. Kyrian, fill yours out and then we can eat.”

I take the sheet from him. It’s the same one he gives me every year to see if anything needs to be changed before he scans it into the auction database.

I glance over it.

BDSM orientation: Dom

Sexual orientation: Heterosexual

Yep, those are definitely the same.

It goes on to hard and soft limits and kinks but nothing’s changed, so I hand it back to Uncle Liam with a wink. “I’m good. Nothing new to add or remove.”

Looking over at Kyrian, I see him grinning as his fingers move across the screen. I know for a fact he’s just as much into the kinkier shit as Uncle Liam and myself.

“Also, Kyrian, you will treat the merchandise with respect throughout the weekend.”

“Really, why do we keep calling it that?” Uncle Liam looks sternly at him, which, thankfully, Kyrian sees. “I’m just asking because it seems kind of cold. Why can’t we call them what they are?”

“Because this is how it’s always been since Edward held the first auction. It helps to keep an attachment from forming by taking out any humanity of the items. Therefore, they will forever be called merchandise, especially at the auction. Do not get caught referring to them as anything other than that.”

“Okay, final question.” He slides the tablet over to Uncle Liam, who picks it up and looks over it.

“Yes?”

“We're all going to purchase the same merchandise and use it together. So we’ll all be in the room at the same time?”

“Since when do you have a problem with group activities?” I ask, leaning forward on my forearms as Amalia steps into the dining room with a large bowl of salad. Our conversation doesn’t end; she’s signed her own NDA to never repeat a word of what she hears or vocalize her opinion on anything.

Something she excels at. Sometimes I wonder if she has a secret ability to tune us out when we’re talking about things that aren’t legal or morally gray.

“I don’t, but I’ve never done anything with Uncle Liam. Just wondering if it’s going to be weird or not.” He smiles up at Amalia when she begins with him, placing food on our plates. It makes me realize how coddled he’s always been.

“Just pay attention, you could learn some pointers from the old man. He’s got a way with control you’ve never seen before. But on another note, maybe we should talk about how you’re hooking up with Jennifer tonight and how she’s going to make him a great uncle.”

“Fuck you, Kill.” He flips me the bird before taking a bite of his leafy food.

“Nah man, I’m not into incest, but make sure you add that to the form since you are. We want to make sure it’s current with all your sexual preferences,” I joke back.

Chapter 8

Elena

Edward’s office is very intimidating. Much darker in appearance than the man he presents himself to be at the diner. When I opened the email about three hours into my shift, I almost fell over. I could’ve sworn that when the doctor found out I was a virgin, he was going to tell Edward.

The examination was the most embarrassing thing I’ve done to date. It could be because I’d never had a pelvic exam before, so it was uncomfortable, to say the least. Before he schooled his features, I saw the surprised look on his face when he found out my secret, not to mention I wasn’t on any form of birth control, which apparently was a requirement of the auction.

The only bright side, seeing how it was only days away, was that my period had just ended a day prior, which put me in the time period that the shot would be effective immediately.

Someone upstairs has to be looking out for me. I’ve never had this much luck drop into my lap with anything. Or maybe the cosmic world really thinks it's time for me to lose the only thing left pure in my life.

Now I’m just waiting for the man himself to tell me whether I made it or not. The office is all brown. His desk, leather chairs, walls—all the same drab color. The only bright thing in the room is the books lining the shelf behind his desk.

“Hello Elena, thank you for waiting patiently.” I preen at his praise, but I don’t know why. It’s something I’ve oddly always done when a man tells me I’ve done something good. Maybe it’s because my father always told me everything I did was wrong.

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