Page 118 of Deadmen's Queen

I blushed looking around at the nearby tables, but thankfully they were all watching Bast.

“Behave,” I whispered, trying to move away, but he wouldn’t be told no, and I gasped as his finger slid inside me.

“You say, no, but baby, your pussy is soaking my hand,” Nate murmured in my ear.

“Next we have a limited edition, signed copy of 'The Art of the Conception Supercar',” Bast was saying on stage. The bidding started strong, with people eager for the rare find, but I was finding it hard to follow along. My breaths came in short gasps as Nate continued his torment. He looked casual, attentive to the auction proceedings while he sent sparks of pleasure coursing through me under the table.

“A charming villa in St. Lucia,” Bast announced the next item up for bid. His voice pierced through my haze of desire and I realised with a jolt that it was our lot. Nate's hand stilled momentarily, his gaze shifting subtly towards Bast on stage. I took the moment to try and steady my breathing, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed our little game.

The bidding started at a steady pace, the enticing description of the villa drawing many interested parties into a bidding war. Yet all I could think about was Nate's hand on me, his fingers driving me mad with desire. Heat pooled low in my belly as he resumed his ministrations, drawing circles around my clit before pushing two fingers deep inside me.

My grip on the tablecloth tightened as the bids grew higher and higher. The thrill of our secret game mixed with anticipation for what would come after was intoxicating. My breath hitched when he pressed harder against my clit, driving me toward a precipice I wasn't sure I could hold off any longer.

“Bid stands at seven hundred thousand,” called Bast. “Do I see seven fifty in the room?”

I let go of Nate's wrist, raising my hand to bid, and he slid another finger inside me, just as Bast looked over in our direction.

“Seven fifty at the back,” he said, though a smile played at the edge of his lips. He fucking knew what Nate was doing, I realised.

“Eight hundred,” came the call from a man over to the right. Nate's thumb circled my clit, and under the table my free hand gripped the cushion tightly, as I fought to maintain my composure.

“Nine hundred,” I called, my voice sounding rougher than normal to my ears.

Bast's smile deepened, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Nine hundred to the lady at the back. Is there a higher bid?”

“One million!” came a shout from the left. The room gasped, turning to look at the bidder - an older man with greying hair and a smug expression.

Nate's fingers stilled inside me, his attention shifting towards the older man. He must have sensed my disappointment because he gave me a slow, deliberate stroke that made me exhale sharply. The smug man watched us intently but whether he knew what was going on or not, he didn't show it. “One point one,” Nate said, breaking the silence, his voice steady and calm.

The older man gaped at Nate before shaking his head and sitting down, effectively ending the bidding war. There was a momentary pause before applause filled the room, and Bast called out, “Sold to Lord Carver for one point one million!”

I tried to focus on the people around me clapping and congratulating us but all I could think of was Nate's hand still under my skirt. He finally withdrew his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth and licking them clean while maintaining eye contact with me.

Nate had finally accepted the title a year after the unexpected death of his father, the late Lord Henry Carver. It had been a shock when the police had arrived at our door in London one morning to break the news to Nate that there had been a burglary attempt at Carver’s townhouse the night before. Four figures in black had been caught on the edge of one of the outside cameras entering the house in the small hours, clearly catching Carver asleep. The thieves had savagely tortured him in order to get him to reveal the combination to the safe, and once it had been emptied, they’d executed him, shooting him in the head and chest.

Nate had obviously been devastated, but had said he wasn’t surprised considering his father’s company and their involvement with certain nameless but internationally known criminals. The police had agreed Carver had clearly pissed off the wrong people.

Within six weeks, Nate had sold the country estate that had been in his family for generations and he’d used the money to set up Phoenix Lives with Bast, a charity that provided lawyers, counsellors, and foster homes for children from abused homes. It did a lot of good, and was going from strength to strength thanks to Bast’s business acumen. Nate himself ran a boxing and MMA focused gym on the side of the premises they bought, and ran free classes for kids of any age that wanted to come. It was heartwarming to see him find his softer side, training and helping these kids, some of whom were so lost. It had healed him, anyone could see that, and I’d fallen deeper in love with him than I'd thought possible. Right now, though, I wished I was big enough to swing my own punch at his smug face.

I squeezed my thighs together under the table, uncomfortably turned on thanks to him, and he grinned down at me.

“I thought you wanted me to stop?”

“I wanted you not to start!” I muttered.

“Ah, don’t get mad at me, baby. I've got something better for you…”

He put his hands on my hips, lifting me onto his lap, smoothing my skirt out, and resting his head on my shoulder. A couple of people glanced our way and smiled at how sweet he was being. Underneath my skirt however, he’d lifted me, sliding me down onto his cock, and I grabbed at his arm as he bottomed out deep inside, stretching me deliciously. I squirmed, but he held me still.

“Now, be quiet. Your lot is coming up.”

“Are you kidding me?” I glared at him, my pussy aching with the need to move over him, but his arms were like a vice.

“Shh, you’ll miss it, Paige.”

“And now ladies and gentlemen,” Bast's voice cut through my pleasured haze. “We have a special treat. A painting by our very own Paige Black. Incidentally, you can see Ms. Black’s current exhibition at the Tate Modern from September.”

My eyes shot up to the stage where they were unveiling my painting. It was one of my favourites - a vibrant splash of colours that transformed into a beating heart when you stepped back away from it. I’d changed my name a few months after graduating, no longer wanting to be connected to either of my parents. I’d chosen the name Black, because it reminded me that sometimes darkness wasn’t a bad thing. Sometimes, darkness was a living flame inside you, that just needed to be freed.

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