Page 68 of Auctioned Surrender

I’m not going to deny it, and I can’t tell him anything more, so I shrug. “Who knows, maybe he’ll tell me while he’s fucking me.”

Chapter 13

Dereck

Layla’s back to throwing attitude and doesn’t mean a word of what she just spouted. It’s her preferred defense mechanism, but the thought of her screwing anyone other than me is more upsetting than it should be after knowing her for such a short time. If I didn’t before, I know now this relationship will not follow my standard conventions. This woman pulls on my dominance and tests my willpower and constraint at every turn. Intriguingly, something about that only strengthens my attraction to this submissive beauty who has an intense and relentless desire to find her sister and manages to keep herself in trouble at every turn.

“Come here, Layla,” I tell her, pushing back my chair so that I have room for her between my legs.

At first, she doesn’t comply. It’s only a momentary reaction, and I watch with interest as she contemplates my request. It pleases me to see her short-lived internal turmoil and that her passion and submissive desires overpower her need to stand ground on a boundary agreed upon and intentionally crossed.

I hold out my arm, grasping her hand as she walks between my legs, pulling her onto my thigh, balancing her while pushing the abundance of her hair to one shoulder so that I can see herface. “Why didn’t you finish telling me the story? Tell me the true intent of your plan?”

She inhales deeply. “I thought you would try to stop me, and until we come up with a different plan that will lead me to my sister, it’s still the only thing I can do to find her.”

My jaw tightens with apprehension for my spirited beauty because not only does that put her in Bernatelli’s bed, but it also puts her in the kingpin’s circle, both of which I find entirely un-fucking-acceptable. If he suspects for one minute that Layla is using him to glean information and find her sister, he will have her put on one of the next ships overseas, and she’ll be another trafficking statistic. “The plan just got terminated.”

Layla touches my cheek, sliding her fingers over my face, and the red manicured nail traces over my lip before she leans down and gently kisses them. “I love that you’re worried about me, and I will submit to your wishes in everything but this, Dereck. In this, there is no choice for me. I won’t stop until I find her.”

“You’ll submit to me, but defy me? It doesn’t work that way, Layla,” I tell her, knowing we haven’t gone over any of the particulars of the rules and boundaries of a relationship together.

“Make one exception, Dereck.”

She waits, watching me with those dark brown eyes, questioning and filled with concern.

“There’s no need. We’re going to find her, Layla, but not like that.”

She inhales deeply. “If you figure out a different way to get to Bernatelli by tomorrow night, we’ll use it. Otherwise, I don’t have any other choice. I lost the opportunity to get Sammy interested in me last night, but you were probably right about Larry. He wouldn’t snitch me out and make himself look bad, so I can still use the same plan, just a different day.”

I let that settle, watching Layla as she contemplates the plan I’ve terminated. Nothing is calculating about what she tells me. I asked her for honesty, and that’s precisely what I’m getting, raw honesty and a passionate, relentless need to get to her sister before it’s too late, at any cost, even to herself.

I take a deep inward breath, unaccustomed to being given stipulations, the feelings of jealousy, or the need for unadulterated possession that this spirited beauty invokes.

I stand with Layla in my arms, and she immediately wraps hers around my neck, hanging on while I walk her to my room. “We’ll finish this conversation later, Princess. You’ve misinterpreted the rules and my intentions with you,” I say, setting her on her feet as we reach my room, watching with amusement as the feisty attitude dissipates. She lowers her eyes and digs her red painted toes into the plush carpeting.

“Did you keep your plug in while you were in the shower?” I ask, watching as she returns her gaze to me, struggling with the instinct to look away.

“Yes.”

“Was it uncomfortable?” I ask, gauging her readiness and acceptance.

“No, it was surprisingly, umm … nice,” she says. “Once I got used to it.”

I smile, reassured that she could sleep comfortably through the night with the training device firmly planted in her backside and that she is doing her best to submit to the challenges I’ve given her.

“Good,” I say, sliding my hand under the mountain of hair and cradling the back of her neck in my palm. I pull her so close that I can feel the heat of her body emanating onto mine.

She watches me with hazy lust-filled eyes. The energy around us is electric, filling my blood with fire as I take in this passionate woman who trusts me enough to give herself to me and bow tomy plan to save her sister as long as it’s by tomorrow. I smile down at this fiery beauty who has filled my life with challenges, mystery, and interest. “Slip out of your pants, princess.”

Layla does as I’ve asked without hesitation. She shimmies from the tight material of her signature jeans, pushes them over her hips, and pulls them from her ankles with her toes. My princess is left standing in front of me in her tank top and a pair of silky white panties. I stroke a finger across her cheek, trailing it down the expanse of her creamy skin before pulling her to me and claiming her lips with an intensity that tells me what I’ve already begun to understand. This thing between Layla and me is more than sexual. It's primal, fierce, and all-consuming. “Raise your arms,” I instruct, and she does it immediately, so willing and needy to submit to everything except changing her plan. I remove her shirt and stroke the firm and straining nipples, one at a time, and then both at once, circling and pressing them firmly between my fingers and thumbs.

The purr she makes courses through my blood and straight to my crotch. I do it once more, just to hear the sound of her pleasure again.

I guide her backward, letting her legs touch the edge of the bed before helping her onto her back and positioning her legs. “Stay still, Layla, and keep yourself spread for me,” I instruct, going to the bathroom closet where I’ve placed the toys I’ve ordered and had delivered in hopes that we would play.

When I return, her eyes are ever watchful and hazy with lust and anticipation. I lay the lube on the nightstand beside us, along with the newer and larger plug. Her eyes widen at the size, but she says nothing, just turns her eyes back to me, accepting, responsive, and the most perfect of submissives. Her eyes go smoky as I undress, tracking every moment, heating my skin with the passion of her energy.

I kneel between her legs, raking my finger along the bottoms of her feet, her calves, and inner thighs, and Layla sighs with contentment. When I replace them with my tongue, allowing it to trail along the same path and making my way toward her center, she shivers with anticipation. I taste her, and she trembles with desire and unadulterated need, and that’s the edge I keep her on until she’s squirming and panting my name.

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