Page 32 of Wicked Pursuit

No one tries to touch me. They don’t attempt to interact with me. They just circle my pedestal and talk about me like I’m an object to be purchased.

Which I suppose I am.

Through it all, I concentrate hard, trying to pick a familiar gravelly tone out of the masses. An impossible task. It distracts me, though, at least until a light voice says beside me, “Would you look at that hair. I’d love to have it wrapped around my fist.”

A lower voice chuckles. “I bet you would.” There’s a hint of a Russian accent there. “But this one isn’t for you, love. I hear the Wolf has his eye on her. You know better than to get betweenthatone and his prey.”

I turn my head in the direction of the voices, opening my mouth to question why they knowmyWolf, but it’s too late, they’re moving away. Even knowing it’s a terrible idea, I almost step down and go after them. I thought Wolf was a name I made up for him, one to give a cheeky nod to his reference to my being Little Red Riding Hood. If other people call him that, does it mean he’s done this before?

Wolf promised I’d get my answers tonight at the auction, so I’ll just have to ask him when I see him. Besides, I signed the contract. It’s too late to back out now.

More, I don’twantto back out.

My parents are going to kill me when they find out what I’ve done. I push the thought away and focus on getting through the next however long. People keep coming and coming; some don’t bother to pause near me, intent on other prizes, but others do.

They comment on my breasts, my hair, my ass. Some of the bolder ones even speculate on what my pussy tastes like.

I pass the time by fantasizing about what Wolf would do to them if they tried to find out for themselves. It would be bloody and violent, and when he came to me afterward, evidence of violence all over him, he’d fuck me harder than I’ve ever been fucked.

Slowly, so slowly that I almost don’t notice, the last of the attendees file out of the space. The lights come up, and I’m left blinking and disorientated.

A different person than the one who’s spent the day corralling me about appears, dressed in the same expensive black clothing. “This way, please.”

I’m led through yet another set of doors and to a small dressing room. There, my makeup is retouched, my hair smoothed, and my body shimmied into the dress Wolf provided, my feet strapped into the sky-high heels.

The last one felt indecent; this one is an invitation. It’s just as over-the-top as I’d suspected. I stare at myself in the mirror—at my rosy nipples on display, at the hint of my slit between my thighs, all framed with gorgeous inlaid pearls.

With my hair down in careless waves and my makeup kept mostly natural, I look like some kind of sea nymph that just rose from the ocean spray.

One that wants to fuck.

“Please wait here until someone comes for you. They’ll bring you out to the stage where the bidding will take place and then bring you back here to reside until the auction ends and the details of payment are finalized. You will meet the winner in the room they book after all that’s done.”

My stomach feels hollow in a way that has nothing to do with hunger. This is happening. There’s no going back now. Maybe there wasn’t from the moment I got that first text message. Earlier, even.

“Okay,” I manage.

The person smiles. “We handle these things with the utmost care. Your payment will be deposited in the account you provided us before you leave this room.”

“It’s too bad I’m not a virgin. I’d make a killing.”

They laugh a little. “You’d be surprised. Some of our clients’ tastes run to the untouched, but plenty of them prefer a partner who knows what they like and is willing to experiment.”

Experiment.

The word sends a zing right through me. “Right. Well, I guess that’s me.”

“I’ll be back when it’s time.”

Once again, I’m left alone with my own thoughts. This time, though, there are none to speak of. I sit numbly and wait for my turn, wait for my fate.

It might be an hour or mere minutes later that my door opens and the Concierge appears. Their expression is just as professionally blank as ever. “It’s time.”

I don’t see another soul as they lead me down the hallway and into another new part of the building. I half expected them to have converted the viewing room into the stage, but I should have known better. It’s peak rich people to have an entire fucking theater in their basement. I suppose I can’t throw stones considering what family I was born into, but it’s honestly ridiculous.

And maybe I’m just trying to distract myself from the reality that I’m about to be auctioned off and that I have absolutely no control over who wins the bid. I either trust Wolf or I don’t. Maybe it’s the height of foolishness that I do, but I cling to the memory of the stranger from the viewing.

The Wolf has his eye on her. You know better than to get betweenthatone and his prey.

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