Page 17 of Once Upon A Sale

My ideas of letting off some steam this weekend are flying right out the fucking door.

I’m here until the end of the night though, so I may as well enjoy myself. I order another drink as the time counts down for the first dude I’ve seen all night currently on stage, then the bidding ends and the next auctionee is announced.

I glance at my tablet as Edward the Emcee begins describing her, “Sunny, twenty-six and sexually active. Thirty-six, twenty-four, thirty-six. Blonde hair and blue eyes. She is active in sports, notably martial arts and shooting…”

This is what I get for wanting to be surprised by the ‘merchandise’ on sale here today.

It’s her.

It’s fucking her.

I waste no time bidding for Ophelia.

My offer stays green for two whole minutes before flashing red, which means some cunt has just outbid me.

Not to-fucking-day.

I put in a new offer, relaxing when it turns green.

Ophelia is a fucking goddess on that stage, walking in a way that would make any supermodel proud, a sway to her hips…her long legs covered by sheer black stockings, her perky tits held in with a black lacy fabric that I want to rip apart with my teeth. My fucking God, she’s glorious.

My tablet begins a thirty second countdown, and now I’m in a bidding war. The numbers keep turning red, so I up my offer to two and a half million, praying to a god I don’t believe in that the prick trying to bid for my woman fucks all the way off.

The time runs out and I let out the breath I was holding in anticipation when my bidder number flashes on my screen as the winner.

This is gonna be dangerous, and it’s stupid knowing that The Firm wants her dead, but I need to bury myself in her pussy before I let that happen. Get her fine arse out of my system so I can move the fuck on and shag whoever the fuck I want.

Why she’s even here, I have no clue. It’s not like she needs the five-hundred-thousand dollars the auctionees get. Maybe it’s a thrill thing. Some people like to jump out of planes, others like to sell their bodies to the highest bidder for a weekend of depraved sex.

All the ways I can punish her for trying to give away what is now mine are reeling through my mind. Well, mine for the weekend, but that’s irrelevant. My body wants hernow.

My leg bounces up and down as I wait for five more people to be sold, my fists clenching and unclenching with anticipation. Why is this taking so fucking long?

I’m no longer relaxed, chill, sipping casually at my drink. Now I’m on the edge of my seat, ready to transfer the payment, sign the extra contracts, and make her mine for the whole weekend.

With my heart thumping against my rib cage, I’m afraid it’ll burst right out as the final person is sold and the dull lighting of the room brightens a little.

It’s time.

I grin, practically salivating at what I plan to do with Ophelia—I should think of her as Sunny this weekend.

After filling in what feels like more mountains of paperwork, I’m finally following one of the club handlers to my woman.

My dick is hard at just the mere memory of her lips, combine that with the lingerie she was wearing on that stage and I’m about ready to blow.

“Here you go, sir. Have a great weekend.” The handler bows his head a little in respect before opening the door, and there she fucking is, still wearing her black lingerie for me, her blonde hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders…

Oh, yes.

“Sunny, your buyer is here. He will escort you out of the building and we’ll see you back here no later than midnight on Sunday.” Exiting the room, the handler leaves the door open before walking away down the hall.

“You.” Ophelia’s snarl is one for the photo album.

“Yes. Me. And you.” I raise my brows, a smirk firmly etched onto my face, waiting to see what comes out of her smart mouth next.

“Why are you here?” She has the gall to askmethat question?

I huff a laugh, shaking my head. “Get dressed or cover yourself up. I have a helicopter waiting for us.”

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