Page 59 of Cherry Auction

I hold her eye contact as I reach for the hand-held shower head beside the bench and nod. “Good kitty.”

She seems unconvinced as I bring the spray nearer. “Not bad kitty?”

She asks with such earnestness that it makes me wonder what’s going on in her mind. Now I wish Professor Roberts was back.

Brooke fell into this state because of all the accusations I was hurling at her.

If Professor Roberts was right and Brooke already had dissociative amnesia before that night on the auction block, what thefuckhappened to land her on the doorstep of the women’s shelter where Moira works?

I pissed on her father’s grave two years ago. So where has she been since then? Why did she only show up now? What took her so long to come find me? The hospital report said she only got hit on the head two months ago.

Has she been here silently watching me and Moira from the shadows since her father died? Then some sort of bad luck ended her up in the wrong alley at the wrong time of night, coincidentally bringing her into our path?

After all we’ve been through, I just can’t believe that.

“Not bad kitty,” I manage to say through a thick throat. “Good kitty. Good girl. Beautiful fucking exquisite girl. I’m going to wash you now.”

She looks scared, but she nods. She turns and hugs me, face in my neck.

I bring the spray against her shoulder, and she shudders, clinging to me.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” I grab my bottle of body wash and squirt some on her shoulder. I massage in the body wash while I run the water over the rest of her back. She moves, slinging her other leg around the other side of my lap. It makes me glad I still have all my clothes on. It’s good for access to wash her when I get to it next, but difficult for the perma-hard-on I always have around her. Professor Roberts would not approve.

It doesn’t help when Brooke grinds against me, letting out little high-pitched mewling noises in my ear as I massage foaming shampoo into her hair.

She does get turned on at the drop of a hat whenever I touch her, so I should’ve expected this. Control. I’m taking back my fuckingcontrol.

I breathe out roughly as I wash my shampoo out of her hair, next inhaling the steam and the scent of my shampoo and body wash on her. The idea of her coming out of the bath smelling like me makes my cock pulse even harder.

As if feeling it, she writhes on top of me where I sit on the bench with even more fervor, bowing her head towards my ear.

“Touch me,” she whispers, teeth nipping at my ear.

I’m befuddled by having her on top of me after all the revelations and realizations today.

She’s not who I thought she was. She’s pure. Whatever she did or didn’t do in the past—she was twisted by a sadistic fuck of a puppeteer. But she’s innocent and always has been.

If I take advantage of her now while she’s so vulnerable, I’m nothing more than the game piece he intended me to be. Fucker always did love chess. He used it against me all the time. If I won, I’d get a night off from him, so I tried to master the game. But I never could win a single match against him.

Even from the grave, he’s trying to twist me into even more of a sick, contorted beast. And I fuckingrefusefor any more of my life to be dictated by that vile fuck.

So I allow my sweet kitten to mewl and paw and rub herself against my hardness while I wash her, all the while telling her what a good girl she is.

“Sir,” she mewls, “good kitty get a treat?” she begs.

I close my eyes as she flips around on my lap so her back is to my chest. Her hips writhe her naked, wet cunt back and forth against my clothed hard-on like a lap dancer as her body finally uncurls into the warm spray of the second showerhead.

My teeth clench.

It’s Mads. My Mads.

It’s always been her. Only ever her.

And now she’s here, with nothing between us.

I want to pick her up, press her against the wall and shove into her, claiming her the way I’ve imagined a thousand times.

Right. Because there’s nothing between us… except for her dissociative amnesia and the fact that I’ve kidnapped and broken her after buying her at a virgin auction.

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