Page 27 of Once Upon A Sale

Rhett stops, pinches my nipple—fucking hard—then asks again.

“Why?” Oh my fucking God. The better question here is why the fuck is he stopping?

“Because I was curious.” Sounds legit to me, right? Little rich girl, bored of her rich boy toys?

Looking over my shoulder, I double down.

“I wanted to see if men wanted me even if they didn’t know who I was.” Mentally, I nod to myself. Nice one, Ophelia.

“I don’t believe you.” Well, so much for that. “But it’ll have to do ‘cause I need to come inside you. The sooner the better.”

Thank fuck.

With my wrists restrained, I can’t touch him, but I think he likes that. Rhett seems to be an avid believer in being in control. I get it because I’m the same, but I won’t deny this feeling of letting everything go and giving the reins to someone I trust feels liberating in a way I never understood before.

Wait, no. That’s not right. Trust isn’t the right notion. It’s about the system of the auction. I trust the process, not necessarily him.

Pressing my back impossibly closer to his front by way of his palm nearly choking me, he brings his mouth to my ear so I can hear his breaths. The sharp intake every time he thrusts inside me does something to me. It’s intimate in a way I’ve never experienced before. From the outside looking in, it seems like he’s using my body for his pleasure, but when the hand on my hip slides down to my cunt and his fingers find my clit, it makesit all shift. The anger and the confusion over what the fuck is happening. Why he’s here, why he was at the auction. Why he’s fucking me like he wants to punish me for existing.

Every time his dick hits that magical spot and makes the butt plug shift, he rubs my clit, and every fucking time, I get closer to losing my mind. I know he can tell because his moves are always calculated, like some kind of artificial intelligence learning from his experiences, he tries new things, learning my reactions.

Little does he know that I’m doing the same thing. When I mewl from the crazy feeling of his dick rubbing against the walls of my pussy, he grunts like he’s patting himself on the back for finding a weakness, an open door to my pleasure.

Well, I suppose he’s right. Trial and error, except with a lot more trials than errors because Rhett—whatever his name is—plays me like a finely tuned instrument and he’s the fucking maestro at it.

“Open your eyes, Kitten.” His palm presses harder against my throat, cutting off my airways and making my eyes fly open with the instinct to fight or run. “Look out there. Keep your eyes out on the world, knowing I’m the only one capable of making you feel this way.” I want to snark back, tell him I’ve had plenty of men who’ve given me what he’s giving me, but I can’t speak. I can barely breathe and he fucking knows it.

So I shake my head. I tell him no.

My answer only makes him fuck me harder and I mentally high five myself for getting under his skin. This may only be a weekend hook up, but Rhett is a man who prides himself on being the best at everything he does. I don’t need to knowhimto understand that.

I’ve known men like him my entire life.

Hell, I’m the female version of him, which is why he and I would never work. Not that it matters. We’re not exchangingvows, only our bodily fluids, and even those are limited to saliva, cum and occasionally a little blood when it gets rough.

“Your lies are going to get you in trouble.” Behind me, Rhett accelerates his thrusts, slamming my naked body against the railing, harder and harder. The buttplug is like its own entity, fucking my ass with the sheer power of his driving hunger. It’s like being with two men, although I’m guessing Rhett wouldn’t be down with that.

Pity.

“I think…oh, God, yes!” Rhett wraps his arms around my thighs, lifting me so that my forearms are on the railing, my chest pressed against them, and his uses me like a fucking wheelbarrow, plunging into my cunt over and over and fucking over. I have no more thoughts, no more sass, no more to say because my only focus is now on the impending orgasm I’m hoping he won’t take away from me this time.

Behind me, he’s like an animal. A driving force. A category five hurricane intent on destroying my pussy. Our grunts are synchronized, the pain of this position only heightens the increasing ecstasy of knowing I’m about to come so fucking hard it won’t even matter if he stops because my body won’t be able to put an end to what’s coming. Literally.

“That’s it, Ophelia, come all over my dick like a good little kitten.”

Taking a deep breath, I release a long, agonizing cry of pleasure into nature around me, causing a flock of birds to flee a nearby tree.

Even Rhett gets vocal about it, but nothing like me. I’d be embarrassed if I weren’t so consumed by this orgasm like no other.

Fuck. Me. My pussy squeezes his dick so hard he can’t even pull out; he’s forced to stay where he is as I pulse out every aftershock.

“That’s it, give it to me.” And I do. I fucking give him everything, and I swear that notion is what pisses me off the most.

Because, yeah, he may very well be the best I’ve ever had, and fuck him for that.

Chapter Twelve

Jarrett

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