Page 103 of Auctioned

“James, please.” My muscles burn with the effort to get closer to him. But no matter how hard I try to raise my ass off the bed, all the pressure I put on his hair when I pull on it with my free hand, he won’t let me have him. “Why are you doing this? Why are you punishing me? For the silent treatment? It’s not fair. I told you everything.”

Chipping away at my sanity, he licks me, teasing me. His dark eyes grow darker by the second.

He doesn’t just own me. He owns this bed—this scene.

The world.

I release his hair and clutch onto the sheets instead. I’m soaking. Panting. Clenching. He can see everything. He can smell my need for him.

He won’t get to hear my desperation.

He won’t.

“Ophelia.”

Fire spreads through me, frying my brain. It’s the way he’s saying my name against my clit. So cold. So commanding.

That’s a whole other level of torture. Worse than before. To have him this close, when every nerve ending throughout my body is sensitive. I’ve never been this vulnerable in my life. This needy.

And it feels safe. Being vulnerable around him.

“You owe me something.” Another flick of his tongue. More pressure from his fingers.

My toes curl, and my eyes roll to the back of my head. He swirls his tongue next, another suggestion of a touch.

At this rate, I think I’m going to black out.

“Anything.” I’m failing myself. Staring at him like he holds the answers to life. Like he’s actually my master. “Please, whatever you need, I’ll do it.”

He pulls back an inch. Enough to make me squirm. Enough to allow me a glimpse of all of him.

The lamp’s light casts a warm glow on his handsome face, on his day-old stubble.

The corner of his lips tugs up.

He’s gorgeous.

That’s not accurate.I don’t think he’s gorgeous.

I think he’s more. He’s a gift, created especially for me.

Ever since I lost my parents, I’ve been chasing this feeling. This person who’d care for me as much as I care for him. To have someone consumed by me. Envelop me into his darkness where I’d never want to leave.

Fuck, it’s as if I’ve been manifesting him my entire life.

“You’ve been…” He traces his hand to the space between my thighs, dragging his thumb along my slit. I scream. I shudder. It’s notanyoneI’ve needed; I see that now. I’ve needed him. “Good, mostly. A good little property.”

“What do you want? Stop teasing me. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.” I gasp, burying my heels into the mattress, lifting my ass. James pushes me back down where he wants me. Where I belong. “Other than torturing me, you bastard, what do you want?”

“You’re a clever girl.” Storm clouds gather over his face. His smirk is gone. The grip on my thighs is unbearable. “You know what I’m asking for.”

“No.” Yes. Maybe. If I had air in my lungs, if my throat weren’t so tight, choked by desire, maybe I would’ve remembered. “I-I don’t. Please.” When he spits on my clit, my entire body breaks into tremors. After being teased for an eternity, it’s too much. “Oh God. Oh, Jesus.”

“Beg for me.” With his tattooed hand, he nudges his thumb into my pussy. Only up to the first knuckle. Another form of torture. “Beg me to make you come. To fuck you.”

Nothing and no one could’ve prepared me for this. For this deep desire he’s sparked within me. He threatened me. Told me what would happen after he fucked me. After I became pregnant with his baby.

I should be terrified. I should shut the hell up and never speak again. He might throw me back into the cell or force himself on me.

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