Page 21 of Ruin Me, Daddy

Didn’t he want her? It wasn’t so much the prospect of spending the next few hours at a stranger’s mercy that had her heart racing and her stomach clenching with unease. She’d played enough at Black Light for that not to phase her.

It was the idea that Ice was truly done with her, that she’d somehow broken their relationship beyond repair that made her want to fall to her knees and weep right there on the stage.

But she didn’t, because if that was the case, she would be damned if she’d give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

Asshole.

When the bidding passed the twenty-thousand mark, the suit shook his head and stepped back in disappointment.

“Going once for twenty-thousand and one hundred dollars, going twice—wait! A new bidder has entered the ring. New bid is twenty-thousand and two hundred dollars!”

Biker Daddy turned to glare at whoever had swooped in to steal her from him at the last minute. Hope beat painfully at her chest as Silver followed his gaze to Ice.

No. Not to Ice. To his friend, the man he’d been seated with the night before when she’d been watching him from across the room. Beside him, Ice still stood, his gaze locked on hers. But now a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

What the fuck was he up to?

The bidding continued, with Ice’s friend and Biker Daddy locked in a battle of wills. Until, finally, around the thirty-two mark, Biker Daddy shook his head and lowered his paddle with a sigh. “Sorry, darlin’. We would have had fun together, but this is a little too rich for my blood.”

Her own blood roared in her ears as Braden counted down, giving the other bidders a chance to step in. Giving Ice a chance to raise his paddle at the last minute, to prove he still wanted her and he’d just been teaching her some fucked-up lesson.

But he didn’t.

“Sold to Master Beckett! Come claim your prize, my friend.”

She was aware of Beckett moving through the crowd. Aware, vaguely, of him approaching the stage, holding his hand out to her. But her attention was riveted on the man he’d left behind. Arms still crossed, that smug fucking smile still playing on his lips as he nodded ever so slightly toward the man standing in front of her.

Her vision blurred as she placed her hands in Beckett’s and allowed him to help her down from the stage. It took her a moment to recognize the blurriness as tears, and she immediately raised her head, willing them back when she did.

She would be damned if she let Elias Turner see her cry.

Not that it mattered. He was gone already, disappeared into the crowd as she stood hand in hand with his friend.

“Come with me, sweetheart. Let’s go find a quiet place to sit and talk.”

The absolute last thing she wanted was to talk to him. Or to anyone. She just wanted the sweet oblivion of giving herself over to someone for an hour or two. She wanted to push everything that wasn’t pain or pleasure out of her mind. Pausing beside a small stage where a St. Andrew’s cross stood empty, she nodded up at the cross and grinned. “Or we could just climb up on that podium and get to it.”

Beckett paused, and for a moment she thought he might take her up on her offer. But then he turned, a hard look in his eye that was tempered only somewhat by the amusement sparking in the dark depths. “We should get something very clear, right out of the gates, little girl. I tolerate brats, but only because I very much enjoy breaking them. Elias already warned me you can be a bit of a handful. But I would suggest not pushing me too hard, unless you’d like to leave this club with your bottom sore inside and out, and your poor little pussy still dripping with need. Am I making myself clear?”

Fear, the most delicious kind, trapped the air in her lungs. “Y-yes, Sir.”

“Good girl. Now, I know damn well you are experienced enough to understand the need for negotiation before a scene, so I don’t want to hear another argument about it.”

“Yes, Sir.” Heat crept up her neck at his lecture. “I’m sorry, Sir. I do know better. It’s just…”

Some of the sternness faded from his expression. “I’m not who you were expecting to bid on you tonight?”

“No, Sir. And that’s not fair to you. I’m sorry. Again.”

“You let me worry about what’s fair or not, sweetheart. All right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He smiled, and she nearly melted into a puddle at his feet. There was something about being rewarded with a warm smile from a stern man that seemed guaranteed to turn her to putty in any Dominant’s hands. “That’s a good girl. Let’s go have that chat.”

CHAPTER 9

SILVER

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