Page 102 of Auctioned

Nothing. She gives me the silent treatment.

Silence works for me if she lets me feed her, which she does.

Then she stays put while I head over to my closet, grab a tie, and, in complete silence, bind her ankles.

She stays there, her wrists and ankles bound, for the rest of the day. It hurts, this distance. This floor separating us.

It’s necessary. For me as well as for her.

She needs to remember who I am. I need a clear head to figure out how to fix it.

I only return to my room when she needs to use the bathroom. For lunch and dinner.

We don’t talk throughout the entire day.

But when she falls asleep, when I watch her in my bed late at night with the soft light from the lamp at my bedside table kissing her face, that’s when I can’t take the silent treatment for a second longer.

I’m coming for her.

20

OPHELIA

Iwake up moaning.

Out of nowhere. I didn’t even feel the sound ripping out of my throat.

I feel it now. I feel everything.

My pussy is hot. Pressure keeps building there, pulling me out of my dreamless sleep.

There’s a man between my legs, I realize, as my eyes flutter open.

Bedridden brown hair. Icy glare. Bare shoulders and chest.

Strong fingers pressing my legs apart.

His tongue is on my clit. Teasing me.

Just the tip of it flicking on the most sensitive part of me.

This is torture, how James taunts and torments me. How he stares at me like I’m his to devour. A dull ache grows in my core from this barely-there touch.

He was an asshole to me the entire day. Resurrected the wall between us. He was also hot. I’ll always be seduced by his bossiness. I’ve been desperate for someone to care so deeply that they take over my life.

My heart stopped hurting sometime before I fell asleep. I was going to tell him I was done with the silent treatment in the morning.

He’s beaten me to it.

He’s punishing me for it.

I squirm, trying to escape the featherlight pleasure. From him. He’s doing it to hurt me. He’s pinning me to the bed. Glaring at me and telling me through his body that I’m never going to get off. That he’ll edge me for eternity.

“Why?” When pushing him away fails, I lift my hips. Attempting to, at least, reach him.

He shoves me down. Grips me harder. His fingers bite into my flesh. He knows it turns me on, his viciousness.

He’s driving me mad by not giving me what I want. What I need.

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