Page 22 of Once Upon A Sale

Well, mission accomplished.

The thing is, as great as that orgasm and the playing have been, being confined in a cabin with a man I don’t know isn’t getting me any answers.

Looking over my shoulder, I contemplate rifling through Rhett’s pockets, maybe even that huge bag he brought inside earlier.

Once he was finished fucking me into next week, he slapped my ass and told me to go run upstairs and wait for him on the bed. By the time he got here, he was completely naked with only our bags in his hands.

There’s no denying his body is fucking perfect, and I’m actually excited about exploring every inch of him…if he ever lets me touch him.

After that, he slid right back inside me and got me off with a slow, torturous rhythm, until my body froze and the only proof that I was coming was my open mouth in a silent scream.

No, I can’t go through his things right now. He’s only been asleep for twenty minutes, tops. I’ve seen the shows and the movies where the protagonist thinks it’s safe to snoop. It never is. Never, not once.

I’ll wait, thank you very much.

When the opportunity presents itself, maybe I’ll find a clue, maybe he knows the elusive James Smith. It’s a long shot but it’s not impossible since, one thing I’ve learned in the last few years is that these people all run in the same circles. Rhett here, is bound to know someone who knows someone and I intend to find out everything I possibly can to shut this trafficking ring right down, all with the help of my girls.

A small smile curls at the corners of my lips thinking of Opie and Tabby. I’m sure they’re worried, but they know me well enough to be sure I’m staying safe.

I feel his heat at my back at the same time as I hear the tickle of his words at my ear.

“I like seeing you in my shirt. There’s something incredibly sexy about it.” His dick is pressed against my ass cheek and the way he gently unbuttons his own shirt to reveal my naked body beneath has an addictive quality to it. I could get used to these kinds of feelings. One day. Far away. And with someone who doesn’t pay for sex. “Come on now, Kitten. Time for round three.”

Chapter Ten

Jarrett

The rented cabin was kitted out with food and essentials for us before we arrived. I paid the landlord a little extra to make sure they got everything on my list, including the strawberries and squirty cream for after dinner tonight—well, if I’m being technical, then it’s whipped cream here in the US, but squirty sounds so much better. Turns out, that was a great decision on my part, especially considering who I managed to snag at the auction.

She’s still sleeping up in the bedroom, her face relaxed and serene after fucking all night. It was fucking glorious. Switching on the kettle I asked the landlord to ensure was here, I take a moment to collect my thoughts.

This weekend is about getting her out of my system, because inevitably, she’s going to die at the hands of The Firm. Her pussy may feel like velvet, but it’s not the only pussy in the world.

It’s been less than five hours since I last slid inside her, though, and I’m more addicted than ever. She intrigues the shit out of me. The way she sasses me makes my dick twitch and mypalm tingle with the need to punish her before making her feel so damn good she gets cum-drunk.

The kettle makes a noise to indicate the water is boiling and I pour some into my mug with the teabag, allowing it to steep for a couple of minutes before adding a splash of milk. With that finished, I pour Ophelia a filtered coffee that has been brewing, because I know she has an addiction of her own…to coffee. No milk, no sugar, because she’s sweet enough.

After setting the mugs on the small round table next to the kitchen area, I go about starting the pancakes. Another of her favorites. It’s clear she was on my mind when I created my shopping list and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

Movement from the bedroom catches my attention. That must mean she’s awake. I don’t care that I wasn’t there to see the moment her eyes opened, because that would be fucking dangerous.

Bare feet pad down the wooden stairs, and when I see her, I can’t contain my low growl. I try to adjust my dick in the boxers I’m wearing but there’s no hope of it ever being soft again. Not with her around.

No, she won’t always be around.

Taking a deep breath, I plaster on a seductive grin. “Did you bring any of your own clothes, Kitten?” Her cheeks heat and I notice a slight pause in her step before she throws a seductive grin right back at me.

“Why bother when I’ll be out of them for most of the weekend anyway?” Sitting herself at the table, she leans back in the chair and crosses one leg over the other.

The reminder that she had every intention of spending this weekend with someone else isn’t one I want to dwell on. But realistically, I wanna fucking kill anyone who so much as fantasizes about her. It’s not where I want to be mentally, but here we fucking are.

“Or are you wearing my shirt again because you can’t get enough of me?” I plate up the pancakes, chuckling when she huffs. It’s cute as fuck when she’s mad.

Last night, she was mad because my cute little kitten with huge claws is jealous. She hates the idea that I could have been with someone else this weekend as much as I do. A smarter man would make something of that shit, maybe nip it in the bud now, but I can’t do that. I won’t do that.

Not yet.

Setting the now-full plates on the table, I notice Ophelia eyeing up the coffee I’ve prepared, but she doesn't make a move to touch it.

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