Page 44 of Into the Woods

I’m hard pressed to rip my focus from the screen to acknowledge that he’s spoken to me. “What?” I bite out.

“You look like you’re about to bust through that wall and kill anyone within arm’s reach of Winnie. You’re not planning to let Alain actually win her, are you?” Tilting his head to activate his comms, he mumbles directions for security to step in on a buyer getting a little too hands on with one of the girls before turning his attention back to me.

“Alain?” I search the room and find him in a cloud of cigar smoke. “What the fuck is he doing here? Find out who his source is. I want them dead.” Alain is the primary reason we moved the auction up a handful of days. The way he looked at Winnie as she perched on my lap had me seeing red.

I pull Teague back before he can exit the office with a question. “What else did he say to you the other night? I know there was more.”

“As he was leaving? He asked me if Winnie was the virgin. If she’s really untouched.” His brows lower over his eyes. “He said he wanted to add her to his collection.”

Alain likes them young. Likes to break them in, be the first to fuck them. Ruin them and cast them aside. His reach knows no boundaries.

“You know how he operates, Christophe. He’s going to bid her up high, then let some other fucker win and pay. Have his men intercept her and the payment”—Teague pauses, eyes dropping to my clenched fists— “He’ll revel in the fact that he’ll get to fuck her and destroy you at the same time.”

“Go. Get her off the floor,” I growl. “Over my dead body.”

One of Alain’s men has his hand wrapped around Winnie’s arm leading her across the floor and straight to the Devil himself.

I watch as my uncle, my father’s twin brother, reaches out and pulls Winnie’s body into his. His pudgy hand squeezes her ass, and I lose the tenuous grip on my control. “Bring her to me,now,” I roar. “Get on comms and get one of our guys to that corner immediately, for fuck’s sake.”

Teague storms out of the office, hand to his ear, barking orders as he goes.

I watch the screen, unwilling to take my eyes off of what could very well become a huge shitstorm. Alain is not generally receptive to the wordno, so it doesn’t surprise me that his facesours, his hand jabbing at the air with that foul fucking cigar as he cuts his men down. One ofles beaux voyoustakes off after Teague and Winnie, but security stops him before he makes it into the hall.

“Where are you taking me?” Winnie asks Teague, her voice trembling.

Not feeling so sure of yourself at the moment, are you honeybee?

I reach for her hand, pulling her behind me to close us into the office. Before the door clicks shut, I bark an order at Teague. “End of the hall—stay there. No one comes back here, understand?”

He nods and strides away as I slide the lock in place.

I turn slowly, trying to calm my rage before facing Winnie. It doesn’t work. All I can see when I look at her is Alain’s hands on her. Him touching her, squeezing her ass. The way his fingers slid beneath the useless fucking, red bands that do nothing to cover her and everything to showcase her curves, highlighting everything a man could want.

This is not how the night was supposed to go. He’s not supposed to be here, and Winnie’s supposed to remain untouched.

I can’t imagine what she sees as her gaze skates over my face, but we are too close to the finish line to let the mask fall now.

I don’t give her a chance to say a goddamn thing as I wrap my hand around her throat and walk, pushing until all she can feel is the wall at her back, and me—every hard inch of me—pressing into her.

“Did you like that old man touching you? His hands on you while he was picturing you spread out beneath him?” Her throat bobs against my palm as she swallows down her fear. “Because I didn’t fucking like it. Not at all.” I grind the words between my teeth.

The desire I’ve been suppressing over the last few days—hell, it’s been years—is overwhelming. I’m riding a knife’s edge of playing a role and giving those fuckingwantsfree rein.

I palm her tit, pushing the scarlet scraps beneath her creamy flesh and pinch her pretty pink nipple. She gasps at the bite of pain as I do the same to her other breast.

“I need a taste,” I mumble, pulling one perfect nipple into my mouth—licking, sucking, nipping—until she squirms and her breath hitches.

She’s fucking perfect.

I slide my hand down her soft belly, over the flare of her hips, and cup her ass—my hand exactly where Alain’s was just moments ago. I want to erase him from her. Replace each of his proprietary touches with one of my own.

I release her nipple with the scrape of my teeth and stand, my lips hover just above hers. “Who feels better pressed against you?” I ask, my mouth brushing over hers. “Who would you rather picture above you? Behind you? Spreading you out. Worshipping you. Fucking you soundly?”

“You.” She breathes out her response and I greedily suck it in, swallowing it down.

I slide my hand between her legs, sweeping a finger beneath her soaking-wet thong. “You like that—the thought of my body above yours, my fat cock spearing you, stretching you wide.” Every fantasy I’ve had of her spills from my lips. The things I want to do to her, with her. To teach her and show her pleasure she’s only ever imagined.

“Yes.” She tilts her hips, granting me more access.

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