Page 70 of Auctioned

“Yes. Yes. Like that. Such a greedy whore. Sucking me so fucking good.” His hand guides my head up and down on his dick. He isn’t being gentle. Isn’t teaching me how to do it. My coughing and spit don’t slow him. He uses me for his pleasure. “Put your hand on your cunt. Make yourself come. Let me feel you scream on my cock.”

I whimper. I’m scared of what it means if I come for him.

I do it, still. I obey him because a sick part of me craves it. My pussy is swollen and wet. I’m hypersensitive by the time my fingers slide between my lips.

When James pulls me back up to shove me back harder down on his cock, I almost come on the spot.

“Such a hot little mouth.” He forces me lower on his dick. Proves to me just how much he owns me. Every inch of him is proof. “Sweet, hot tongue. Look at me, Ophelia. Look at me when you take me down your throat.”

A new wave of tears prickles the corners of my eyes.

This isn’t humiliation. This is lust. I do what he says, though I gag and choke because it gets me that much closer to my own climax. I’m almost there. Almost.

“God. Fuck. Every cent. Every fucking cent I spent…” He bought me. He owns me. I’m his property. I can’t ever forget that. I can’t—Fuck, I like it. I get off on this. “Was worth it.”

His teeth sink into his bottom lip. His cock thickens inside me.

I please him. Out of everything—my fingers on my clit, the taste and feel of him in my mouth—this is the part that sends me over the edge.

Just like he ordered me to do, I cry out. I scream on his cock.

This orgasm is going to split me in half.

“Fuck. Yes. Good—Jesus, good fucking girl.” I ride my hand. He fucks my face more viciously. Faster. “So fucking hot. You’re beautiful. Such a good slut—oh,fuck—making me come like this.”

The last word is barely out of his mouth before he finishes in mine. Our eyes are locked as he shoots load after load down my throat.

“Swallow,” he hisses, his teeth gritted. “Suck me dry.”

I try. There’s so much of him, and I’m fighting hard to breathe. It’s hard.

“Yes.” Nothing about him is soft or comforting as he pulls me off him. As his thumb swipes along my lips. He shoves his cum into my mouth. “Take it.”

He tastes good. His thumb feels right on my tongue. It’s the hand with the tattoo on it. His other one holds my nape possessively.

If I weren’t starving and at the end of my rope, I would’ve spat it out. Bitten him.

But I need this. I have to do this.

At least that’s what I tell myself.

Somewhere between the moment he walked into my cell and now, the lines have blurred.

I refuse to think about it a second longer.

“Mine.” I’m past arguing. Past pushing him away. I just need food. Just need some sleep. Then I’ll remember why this place and this man are the worst. “I own you.”

I blink once.

“You’re learning.” James’s thumb strokes my nape, his face unreadable. “I’m proud of you.”

My orgasm hasn’t wiped out my last brain cell. He might be praising me. He’s done it before.

Doesn’t mean I’m any less of a captive.

A surviving captive.

One who, I think, has made the tiniest crack in his heart.

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