Page 107 of Auctioned

“I’m going to fuck babies into you.” His eyes are my entire world. His body is my home. I feel it. I know it. “But not before you come all over my cock, Ophelia.”

I release a moan so visceral that I hardly recognize my own voice.

“Please.”Please, let me stay. Please, fix this. Us. Please, please, please.

“That’s it. That’s my good girl.” His touch is electrifying. His words are harsh and hot, sending me over the edge. A rope snaps, and pleasure spreads throughout me. “Look at you. Coming for me like that. When I’m balls deep inside your cunt. When I hurt you. When I defile you. God, you’re filthy. My filthy girl. Fucking mine.”

Pummeling into me harder, he comes with my name on his lips. He looks furious, unhinged, and possessive.

He looks like the man who owns me.

“Yours,” I whisper, feeling my sanity tearing at the seams. Life wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. Somehow, though, this insanity is perfect. This is where I’m supposed to be. “Yours.”

21

JAMES

Order.

If anyone were ever to sum up my life in one word, that would be it.

Order was what brought me into this world. I’d been raised to maintain it.

Order is why I followed in my father’s footsteps and went to law school. Why the initiation was forced on me. Why I had Topher.

Even the secret kidnappings, saving the other women, I’d been meticulous about those. Secretive.

When I decided there’d be a new kind of order, I went after my father. I didn’t get to kill him the way I planned, but that was a bump in the road. The how didn’t matter as long as he and Oliver’s father were dead, and neither of us were caught.

The shell company I used to pay for Ophelia? There are twenty of those. Twenty well-thought-out secrets spread throughout the world.

Stopping this vicious cycle before more murder and rape ensued has been on my mind for the past year.

Until recently, the plan had been perfectly organized, like everything I do.

Then I moved Ophelia out of her cell. Into my bed.

Into my life.

This, having my heart trip over itself, her blood on my cock—her lips repeating the wordyours—none of this was supposed to happen.

This is the definition of a mess. Of calamity.

Of chaos.

Nothing’s been planned about this. Everything’s out of order.

This is a head-on collision.

And I embrace it. This anarchy.

Her.

“That’s right.” I flip her onto her back, pushing every bit of my cum that’s dripping down her thighs back inside her. She’s warm and tight and sensitive, moaning at the invasion. “You are mine. You won’t always like it. Sometimes, you’ll hate it. I am not a good man. I don’t know how to treat you like you deserve. All I know is I’m never letting you go. Ever.”

“You…” Her eyes are hooded. She moans and writhes. Tries to scoot back while letting me keep her close. “You are. Were. For them. For me. Good, I mean.”

This isn’t the time to discuss this, the entirety of my plan. She’s not ready. I’m still contemplating some of my next moves.

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