Page 29 of Auctioned Surrender

I turn toward his voice, and his eyes haven’t wavered from mine. He nods, encouraging, but I look away. “We had a special night planned to, um, consummate the fact that we took the next step and moved in together, but we didn’t go through with it. Let’s just say it didn’t feel right to me.”

“Bryanna, I know it’s intrusive, but what exactly made you feel that way?”

This is something I never thought I would be talking about, and certainly not with a man this handsome and someone I’m so attracted to.

He’s waiting, and the fact that he’s not just going to go away is obvious in the way those deep blue eyes are watching me so intently.

I might as well just rip the bandage off instead of stretching out the pain. “It was like he was waiting for me to say or do something. I wanted him to take the reins, tell me what to do, how to do it, you know? I don’t know how to explain it other than it didn’t feel right. I couldn’t go through with it. Long story short, we ended up being roommates. He used one room; I used the other. He wanted more, and I didn’t, and when the semesterended, I wasn’t surprised that he moved back to SoCal, where his family lives.”

“That explains how you were being marketed as a virgin. Are you?”

“Oh my god! Damian, this is seriously not something I want to discuss!”

“It’s important. I would never ask you personal questions under the guise of the job. The questions are necessary. I need to know what happened, to ensure we put an end to this for you and your family. Understand?”

“All right, I’m a virgin, okay? The marketing guys for the auction had it right. Somehow they found out I was a virgin, and that’s the only reason I wasn’t raped or pimped out while they held me captive. They had to keep me pure to sell me at the auction,” I say, and all of a sudden the emotions and distress that I’ve kept at bay for weeks come flooding to the forefront, and my tears spill faster than I can wipe them.

In a few quick steps, he’s moved from the recliner and is sitting next to me, wiping my tears with his fingers. “Bryanna, listen to me. I know this is hard, but someone had to learn that you were a virgin in order to market you that way. Who else knew? What about your brother? Did you share it with a few of your close friends, another guy in the past, your mom, your aunt?”

I contemplate his question, but it’s hard to concentrate with his fingers gathering the tears from my eyes and stroking my skin.

“Bryanna, I won’t ask you again—tell me.”

I shake my head, because his question brings a whole other level of questions to the forefront. “He was the only one I ever told I was a virgin, but he cared about me, Damian. It crushed Chad when I told him I just wanted to be friends.”

“I’m sure it did, Doll. Now I want to know the friends you both had in common. Who did you hang out with together, who did you hang out with separately, but that knew the other?”

I sniff, and he stands, walks over to the counter to grab a tissue, and brings it to me and places it up to my nose. I pull away slightly, embarrassed, but he grasps me firmly, pulling me closer. “Let me take care of you, Bryanna,” Damian says, wiping the errant tears and my nose with a swipe of the tissue.

The tears fall harder, and all the emotions of the last few weeks seem to gather and cascade down my face at once. He’s patient and continuously wipes my tears while running his finger along the seam of my lip, causing another sensation to slowly gather in my center.

Chapter 21

Damian

I’m wiping Bryanna’s tears and consoling her, but my mind is already compiling what we know against unanswered questions. Someone who knows Bryanna is a virgin told someone who then had her taken, or worse yet, the person who knew set her up to be taken themselves. If that’s the case, that person better go into hiding for the rest of their life because when I find him, if I let him live, he’ll regret what he did for the rest of his miserable life.

It’s clear she’s overcome with emotion, and although I need this information, I know when and when not to push. “You didn’t get a very good night’s sleep last night, and you’re emotionally drained. Let’s settle in so you can rest. We can talk later,” I say, sliding my hands underneath her thighs. “Arms around my neck, Doll. Hang on to me.”

Bryanna does as I ask immediately. I lift her into my arms, the gesture causing my dick to grow and shift in my pants. She is so fucking perfect, utterly responsive to my every request. I glance down at her as I carry her to my bedroom. Her eyes have become heavy with emotion and weariness. She has gone through so much in the last few weeks, things that I have yet to learn. Her emotional dams have opened, she is in need of aftercare, and I won’t let her be alone. I lay her on the bed, toeoff my shoes, and slide in beside her before pulling the extra coverlet over top of us.

She nuzzles into my chest, and I cradle her hair, stroking down the back of her locks, and holding her close as her breathing begins to normalize, and her tears finally begin to stem. After awhile, she glances up at me and a barely discernible, “I’m sorry,” comes out.

“Sleep, Bryanna. You have nothing to be sorry for. Rest, and we’ll talk later,” I say, stroking her back until she relaxes, and her breathing becomes even and deep. I hold her for close to twenty minutes, my mind knowing she is sound asleep and that I could leave her, and she would be fine, but my body refuses to allow it. Instead, I gather her closer, kiss the top of her forehead, cradle her in my arms, and after a sleepless night and busy morning, fall into a deep sleep right along beside her.

It is much later, and I stretch to check my phone and have to look twice at the time. It’s almost 5 p.m. Clearly the events of the past couple days and our sleepless night meant a need for catch-up. Bryanna is still asleep in my arms, and while I hate to leave the warmth of her body, I have multiple messages from the team that need to be reviewed before she wakes. I get out of bed, careful not to disturb her, and after a stop in the bathroom, head to the kitchen. I hit Matt’s phone number as I pour a cup of coffee from the carafe on the counter.

“Hey, I was beginning to worry about you. It’s not like you not to respond to messages.”

“Sorry, we were asleep. Up most of the night.”

“I didn’t know it was like that.” Matt chuckles on the other end of the phone.

I could give him a smart-ass response, but I decide against it because I haven’t quite sorted out what it is and what it’s not myself. “What did you learn? Were you able to get any more info on Bryanna’s brother or the others?” I ask instead and take a long chug of coffee.

“As a matter of fact, we’ve been following him the whole time you’ve been, um, sleeping. He’s getting close to his mom’s house. When he gets there, he’ll find out his mom and kids are gone. We’re assuming he’ll hole-up there for awhile. We have it wired for sound, and cameras are placed in every room. You know Marenah; she wants to make sure we don’t miss a thing. If he’s guilty of anything, or knows anything that will help get a lock on this trafficking racket, she’ll beat it out of him herself.”

I chuckle, not because anything about this situation is remotely funny, but the thought of Matt’s girlfriend chasing Bryanna’s brother down and pounding him is not out of the realm of possibility. She is a formidable opponent, trained in special ops, and her life’s passion is taking down traffickers. I’m only appreciative that she’s on our side and not theirs. “You thank her for me, and keep me posted. I’ll be with Bryanna tonight and hopefully have a little more info to provide to the group later in the evening,” I say before disconnecting.

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