Page 3 of His to Keep
“Damn it,” I growl, eyes darting around the room, wondering who it is. But no one is moving to claim her. I’m suddenly filled with cautious hope. Maybe whoever has that ticket left. Or maybe they were already called for an earlier submissive. Maybe—
Philip clears his throat at my side, and I turn to him, stomach sinking when I take in the smirk on his face. “789,” he murmurs, holding up one of his tickets. “Lucky me.”
“Five grand,” I say without even thinking about it. “Five grand for that ticket.”
His eyebrows go up, a look of pure delight on his face. The amused asshole is going to enjoy holding me over the barrel on this. But I don’t have time to fuck around. In a minute, Andres will draw another ticket. Up on stage, Rebecca shifts on her heels, even more uncomfortable as she waits.
“Name your price,” I growl.
“This girl appears to have you all riled up, Luke,” he murmurs in the silky British accent that at the moment makes me want to punch him.
“Name your fucking price.”
His expression softens slightly. “Consider this one a gift. Welcome home, old friend.”
I study his face, waiting for the punchline. When none comes, I narrow my eyes. “I’ll at least reimburse you for the cost of the ticket.”
He shrugs, unconcerned with the five-hundred-dollar price tag of each entry. “I’d rather you merely cross your fingers that another of my tickets is selected. I’ve got my eye on that beauty with the tattoos near the end of the lineup. Looks like a wild one.”
I consider arguing about the ticket cost but I know I’m running out of time before Andres calls another number. I grab the ticket off the table. “I was gifted a very high end bottle of baijiu from a partner in China. Consider it yours.”
He grins. “I’ll hold you to that. It’s been years since I’ve gotten pissed on Chinese liquor.”
I’m already marching purposefully toward the stage, my entire attention glued to Rebecca.
“Ah, Mr. Davis,” Andres says when I near. “I was about to draw a new ticket.”
“No need,” I tell him, handing my ticket to the hostess sitting in front of the stage. She consults the number on the paper to the one Andres drew, checks something off on a list, and smiles at me. “Enjoy, Mr. Davis,” she says.
My eyes go up to Rebecca on the stage, taking in her curvy little frame from up close, once again overwhelmed by her sheer beauty. Her tits look even bigger from this view point, and the stage lights shine off her red hair, illuminating it like a halo.A sweet little angel,I think, grinning. I can’t wait to do the dirtiest things to her.
As if sensing the intensity of my stare, she finally lifts her eyes a little, enough for her gaze to lock in on mine. With her posture and the distance, I hadn’t been able to see before, but now I note that her eyes are the clearest shade of pale blue, wide and innocent in a way I wouldn’t expect to find in a place like this. That innocence sends another bolt of desire straight to my dick.
I clench my jaw against the rising tide of want and need threatening to overwhelm me, then hold out my hand to help the gorgeous girl I just won down from the stage. She hesitates to take it, clearly apprehensive. Maybe she’s able to see the predatory gleam in my eyes when I look at her.
Don’t worry, sweet girl,I think to myself.I may be a wolf, but I promise my little lamb will enjoy being devoured.
She finally takes my hand, and it’s all I can do not to growl in triumph when I feel even this tiniest bit of skin pressed against mine. I hold her gaze and give my first demand of the night. “Come with me.”
Rebecca
I’ve never fainted before, but there’s a first for everything. And if ever there was a time for me to swoon, I’m pretty sure it’s right now. If it wasn’t for the strength of the man holding my arm, I’d bet my knees would have already given out.
“Breathe, sweet girl,” the man murmurs, as if reading my mind. I suck in a deep breath but it doesn’t help much—with the insanely sexy stranger standing so close, I take in a good measure of his scent as well as air. He smells of bergamot and rum, a heady, masculine combination that has my knees weakening even more. Add to that his sheer size—the guy has to be at least a foot taller than me, his broad chest and strong arms straining the fabric of his clearly expensive suit—and I’m feeling more than a little overwhelmed by his presence.
I was feeling off-kilter long before this stranger stood up to claim his prize. I had been absolutely terrified when Aden told me he was entering me into The Draw. He had been trying to convince me to do something like this for a while, and had apparently reached the end of his patience. I would stand up there, mostly naked, in front of the room full of strangers. I would allow myself to be gawked at like a piece of meat. Allow myself to be “won” by someone I had never met, and had no say in choosing. Allow myself to be owned, for an entire night. I would do all of these things because he commanded it, and I always do what Aden says.
Thinking about him has me turning my head back in the direction of his table. I’m not sure what I had expected. That he might change his mind? Might come running over and demand this strange man get his hands off me? Stupid, foolish thoughts of a stupid, foolish girl who can’t seem to accept the truth of this world Aden Roth brought me into. I see him sitting exactly where he was when I left him, grinning over at me with that wicked look in his eyes—the same look that always causes my skin to erupt in goosebumps—rarely the good kind.
Next to me, the stranger swears softly, and tugs on my arm a bit harder, hurrying me toward the steel door at the far side of the lounge. “You’re cold,” he grumbles.
I am cold. But it’s not just the chill from standing around with no clothes on. No, this is a deep-down kind of cold, a chill in my very blood. How on earth did I get here?
The room seems to fade around the edges as I allow myself to be transported through the crowd. I try not to think about the people who might be staring at me, the people who were likely staring at me under the stage lights for the past twenty minutes. Try not to think about what this stranger might do to me behind the steel door we’re rapidly approaching.
To my surprise, the man turns before we reach the door, veering over to the bar, instead. I stiffen. He wants to have a drink? Out here in the lounge, with me naked?
Again he seems to read my mind. “We’ll go up to my room,” he murmurs, voice rough and close to my ear. Again, goosebumps erupt all over my body. But this time, the sensation isn’t nearly as unpleasant.
