Page 36 of Auctioned Surrender

“Patience, Bryanna,” I demand, sliding out and then thrusting deep, gliding right to the very end of her. I do it again, and when she cries out and begins to pant, I know I’ve found the exact spot I’m looking for.

“Damian, oh my god,” she half whispers, and with that, I know she is ready, and already so close again. I raise her thighs, pushing them toward her chest, thrusting deeply inside her, focused on that special little spot that’s making her whisper my name over and over, and then drive even harder, causing her to spiral out of control before I release deep inside of her.

I ride us through the waves, swallowing her cries and pants until we’re both completely finished and utterly sated. I roll to my side, bringing her with me, still joined as one.

“That was more than I ever expected, and I’m so glad it was with you,” Bryanna says, causing my chest to tighten with the gift she has given me and an intense and unfamiliar need to keep her wrapped in my arms and never let her go.

Chapter 26

Bryanna

Damian steps out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist, and I watch as a couple drops he’s missed when drying off glide down the expanse of his chest.

He catches me gawking and smirks at me as he dresses while I continue to enjoy the show. The cell phone on the dresser begins to vibrate. He picks it up and frowns at it before stepping out of the bedroom and closing the door behind him. I use the time alone to curl myself into his pillow, still relishing in the aftermath of our lovemaking while inhaling his scent.

“Her fucking brother!” I hear, and then his voice lowers, but by this time I’ve already jumped out of bed and made my naked ass to the door. I crack it open and am crouched, listening through the opening. His voice is fading, most likely moving toward the kitchen, but I can still make out bits and pieces of the conversation. My blood runs cold when I hear him mention another auction. I hear him say that my brother will be in attendance, and in the same sentence I hear him call him a bastard trafficker.

I shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but I can’t help myself from straining to hear every single word.

“Masquerade ball, same club as before. Tomorrow night, 10 p.m., I’ll be there. Pull the team together for a conference call tomorrow. This fucker doesn’t get anywhere near any of those girls! In the meantime, make sure the audio at the safe house is set to go before he gets there, and get a couple men inside the home. If he’s planning to be in New Orleans tomorrow night, he won’t be there long. Keep your eyes and ears open. I don’t trust that fucker, but we can’t legally keep him from his kids,” Damian says.

As soon as he’s done talking, I hightail it into the bathroom and close the door behind me, my breath ragged and heavy, trying to figure out exactly what I’ve just heard.

I jump in the shower and turn on the water, letting the spray rain over me and the information I’ve heard soak in. Damian thinks my brother is involved in trafficking, and he’s headed straight to wherever they’re holding my family. I know he won’t hurt the kids, but he must be looking for me. My chest tightens with the knowledge that my own brother may just be the one who tried to sell me into a lifetime of sexual slavery.

I need to think of a plan. Damian doesn’t know I’m aware of the masquerade ball, and if my brother is there, if he had something to do with me being snatched and sold, if he’s one of the men who sells humans for money, he’s not going to like it when I show up at his little party.

I finish showering, towel off, brush my teeth, and throw on some clothes before going in search of Damian. I find him at the stove, standing over a pot of noodles, and watch fascinated as the muscles in his forearms flex with each lift of the pot filled with boiling water as he drains the pasta. I love the fact that he’scooking, but in all the clips I’ve watched it’s always the woman, the submissive, who’s cooking a meal for the dominant.

“You’re making dinner? It looks and smells delicious, but shouldn’t I be doing this?” I ask, sliding onto one of the barstools.

Damian turns the pan once more and sets it onto the stove and then turns to me. “Something else you learned researching BDSM sites, no doubt.”

Just the tone of his voice keeps my eyes riveted to his. I nod and give him a little shrug. “Every site that I searched said a submissive does all the cooking, cleaning and, well, you know, a lot more. Her job is to provide the dominant pleasure.”

The raised eyebrows lower, and he smiles, a nice wide smile just for me as he nods. “Bryanna, my submissive will bring me pleasure. I will demand that, but the way you do that is up to us, not to a prescribed set of rules. We make our own way, okay?” Damian says, leaning over the bar top and tilting my chin so that I have no choice but to look into his eyes.

I contemplate what he’s said and nod. “So, let me get this straight. I don’t kneel, I don’t lower my eyes, and I don’t cook for you.”

His eyes light up with amusement. “You’ll kneel, Doll, and will do it immediately when I ask. And more often than not, it will be when I want to pleasure you,” Damian says, coming around the bar and grasping me by the waist to pull me to stand before him. He grazes my lips with his own, rekindling the warmth throughout my center. His fingers trail down the fine lace of the tank top he’s purchased, caressing my curves and dipping into the center of my cleavage.

“I seem to recall leaving you naked in my bed, yet here you are standing in front of me fully dressed. That will never do, Doll.”

Everything south clenches with desire. I swallow past the lump of embarrassment and desire his words cause. He unzips the hoodie I’ve thrown over the tank, folds it, and places it on the counter next to me. “Take off your shirt for me, Bryanna. I want you naked from the waist up when I feed you,” Damian says, and the desire in his voice sends shockwaves of pleasure straight to my nipples, which have already become erect and heavy with need.

I remove my tank and then reach behind me, but he gently captures my arms and nuzzles into my ear. “I’ll tell you what I want. Don’t try to anticipate my desire, Bryanna. I want the pleasure of unwrapping the rest of you myself,” Damian says.

Damian gently unclips my bra, slowly dragging the thin straps down my shoulders one at a time. He pulls the fine lace away from my body before allowing his finger to trail the length of my neck, past my collarbone, and over the swell of my breast to circle my nipple.

“So sweet, Doll,” Damian says, rubbing it gently with his finger, all the while watching me before lowering his lips to my nipple and suckling it with the warmth of his mouth.

I hear myself moan lightly. My body presses into him, but his strong hands snake up my arms to hold my shoulders still as he continues teasing, swirling his tongue and caressing me gently until the moisture in my center heats with longing. He alternates, caressing and teasing both breasts, rolling my nipples between his fingers, gently increasing the pressure until I’m wavering between pleasure and pain and panting with fervent desire.

“So responsive and sweet, Bryanna. I think it’s time to feed you.” Damian picks me up and places me on the barstool before walking into the kitchen and returning with a healthy helping of linguine, full of aromatic sauce and shrimp. Damian places one plate in front of the two of us before he slides onto the stool nextto me. He twirls a small strand of linguine and places a forkful to my mouth, stroking my bare nipple while I chew.

He lifts the glass of red wine to my lips.

I take a sip of the delicious red. “Mmm, so good,” I murmur.

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