Page 211 of Auctioned

I want his sickness. His punishments. His humiliation.

My owner could do anything, and I’d beg him for more.

“Hours,” I whisper. “So. Many. Hours.”

“My properties don’t get to omit truths from me.” He steps back, leaving me alone. While he watches me, his gaze detached as ever.

He’s looking at me as if I were truly his property.

It’s mortifying. It’s so hot.

My lungs burn. I clasp my hands in front of me. “I’m sorry.”

“Bad girl.” Warmth flashes across his face.

He’s pleased. So pleased that I almost burst out crying.

I won’t.

This isn’t the game we’re playing today.

His warmth vanishes, wiped out by his steely expression. James is back to being as cold as the weather outside, with the snow falling against the windows.

“You’ve earned your punishment.” His knuckles go white around the pregnancy test. The black ink on his hand can’t hidethis. That’s how tight he’s gripping it. How much he wants this baby and me. “It’ll serve as a reminder to never, ever lie to me again.”

“I didn’t lie.” Being a brat always makes his punishments worse. Always makes me come harder. “Plus, I said I’m sorry.”

“Your apology means nothing.” His voice is lower than before. Quieter. More lethal. “On your hands and knees.”

“You’re not listening.” I’m taking a risk by taunting him. Poking this monstrous bear. “I didn’t lie, and I said?—”

James’s fist winds in my hair that I’ve left loose today. He yanks on it. Forces my eyes up to meet his heated ones.

God, he’s gorgeous when he’s like this. In control. Bathing me in his darkness.

He shakes his head, slowly. Menacingly.

I shut up. Let him do whatever he likes to me, as always.

And he does. While this strong, awful man manhandles me to the floor, he never lets go of the pregnancy test.

It’s depraved and wrong to play this game. With the pregnancy test still in his hand. With Topher’s urn in the room.

Neither of us seems to care.

“That’s it,” James praises when I’m on my hands and knees.

He’s at my side, his hot gaze roaming my body. Then he crouches, lifting my knees one at a time to pull my dress up from under them before placing them softly on the floor.

“Why are you doing this?” Two can play this game where he’s my big bad wolf, and I’m still his captive. Still in the cell.

“Why?”Tsk, tsk.“Hmm. You really don’t know. What am I going to do with you?”

His hands are on my body. Moving along the curve of my spine. My ass. Bunching my dress up my thighs.

“Don’t hurt me, please,” I fake-beg, knowing full well he can see the dark spot on my panties.

“You’re such a slut for this.”

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