Page 122 of Auctioned

I’m groaning, clinging onto his shoulders, hardly able to breathe. Desire makes my legs shake. His glare has goosebumps prickling my skin.

“Fuck. Fuck. You’re tight. So wet for me.” His free hand clutches my hip possessively. “You’re such a whore for humiliation. For me.” He shoves me deeper down his cock. “I’m the one stretching you. Your sweet cunt. It’s mine. Like the rest of you. No one else can ever have this. Not even Topher.”

He thickens inside me. Pushes his fingers in my mouth, dragging them in and out on my tongue, railing me with his cock.

“He couldn’t have had you. Even when you were together.” He pulls his fingers out, placing his hand beneath my mouth. “Spit.”

I do as he says.

“Good girl. My Ophelia.”

“Yours, yours, yours,” I chant as he presses his wet fingers to my clit and rubs. My fingernails dig into his shoulders, almost ripping holes into his T-shirt. “No one but you. Always.Fuck. Yours.”

“Eyes on me.”

I didn’t realize that I tipped my head up, fighting to survive this onslaught of pleasure and James’s intensity. I look at him, falling deeper and deeper in love with this man.

“You’ll still be mine by the end of the week.” His face is pure determination. Pure rage. “Always. Say it.”

“Always.”

He takes me. He fucks me. Wrings one orgasm after another out of me.

James groans his release, and this time, I don’t pass out. I hug him, clinging to him, never letting go.

24

JAMES

Time flies. I always considered it such a fucking cliché. A thing people say.

Every second of my life has been long and accounted for. Whether I spent them suffering, scheming, or being the best at what I do.

The hours have constantly crawled by.

During the time Topher was growing in his mother’s womb, it’d been agony. The last month was the worst. I couldn’t leave the house in case she went into labor. In case my father got in a particularly sadistic mood and decided to pull the trigger on her himself.

In those days, I hadn’t been half the man I am today. My dad had me under his thumb. I’d been subjected to his psychological and physical abuse for years.

Anyway. That was then. This is now.

I’m here, in the kitchen, leaning against the granite island and staring out at nothing in particular.

And wondering, because I’m fucking clueless, as to how this week has gone by so fast.

I loathe this dark blue suit I’m wearing. It means I have to return to the routine I’m no longer interested in.

For the first time since I can remember, I wish I could stay at home rather than head out to the office.

Trials, contracts, negotiations, and threats, none of these appeal to me.

What gets my cock hard and my blood pumping is nothing and no one but Ophelia. This creature. This siren who’s shared my bed over the last few nights. Who’s wet for me when I fuck her in her sleep. Who latches onto my silence.

Who’s obsessed with violent sex. Who submits to me, doing everything I order her to. Like walking naked around the house just because. She opens her mouth to take my cock or tell me about herself when I tell her to.

She makes me hug her. Makes mewantto hug her.

Read next to her. Rest next to her.

---