Page 9 of Auctioned Surrender

I tell her where she is and watch a myriad of emotions flash through her gorgeous wide green eyes. Her jaw shifts, and her lips purse together as she looks around the penthouse. Her stomach growls, and her green eyes widen with surprise, and then she tells me she’s hungry.

I smile widely at her, because while she probably is starving, I also know exactly what this green-eyed seductress is up to. “Of course, would you like me to heat a plate up for you? Perhaps a salad to go with it?” I ask.

Her eyes are still furtively glancing around the room, quietly assessing. She doesn’t answer right away, too caught up in her evaluation, calculating her chances of getting out of my bedroomand then out that door. As a security team, we have a rule: we don’t keep people against their will. But I may need to do that very thing in order to keep her safe from the people who may want to harm her. “Bryanna, I asked you a question.”

She starts at the use of her given name, not the one she’s been using at the club. Her lips purse with feigned annoyance. “My name is Lacey; how many times do I have to tell you, and why did you bring me here?” Bryanna says, that hard, saucy little attitude she gave me back at her apartment coming into play again.

“Would you have preferred me to leave you in a burning building and drugged half out of your mind?”

Bryanna’s eyes mist with emotion, but she doesn’t cry, just shakes her head. “No, I appreciate whatever you’ve done, but I really am very hungry,” she says, and her stomach growls at the very same time, letting me know that it’s a very legitimate request.

She may be feeling hedged in, but she knows there’s truth in what I’m telling her. “They drugged me? Ming did?” Bryanna asks, and I can only assume it’s the dark-haired lady in high heels who came out of her room before I went in.

“Possibly, but you would know more about that than me. Did she give you a shot, or maybe something to eat or drink?” I ask, and her eyes finally stop wandering around the room and focus on me and the question that I’ve asked.

Bryanna nods, confirming what our physician thought. “She gave me a glass of water and a pill before my... um, well... my appointment,” she says, her cheeks turning a bright pink.

I’m supposed to be taking care of her, but being this close to Bryanna makes the blood thrum through my veins at an even quicker speed, and it’s certainly not the first time since I’ve been caring for her that I notice just how very attracted I am to my little charge.

“You need food,” I say, turning from her before she can notice my increasing arousal at the thought of her body lying on that massage table, covered in oil, her legs spread and her nipples erect, a vision I can’t seem to purge and will likely never forget.

I head to the kitchen and the casserole that Gaby has had prepared, thankful that wherever we go, she and her staff manage to keep us well stocked. I pull the oblong pan out of the refrigerator and dish a healthy heaping into two bowls, place them in the microwave, then fill a large glass with crushed ice, water, and a slice of lemon.

The microwave dings, and I pull the food out to let it cool slightly while connecting with her doc. “Bryanna’s awake. She couldn’t use her arms or legs at first, but I think the feeling is starting to come back. She was thirsty, so I gave her water, and now she’s hungry. No issues with food, right?”

“No, getting something into her stomach will be good for her. Go slow though, Damian. She may be hungry and can have all she wants, but introduce it slowly, one spoon at a time. I’m just leaving the hospital and should be at your penthouse in the next half an hour or so pending traffic.”

“Excellent. I want to make sure she’s okay physically, but can you also talk to her and see what she needs in terms of emotional stuff? It’s hard to say what she’s been through,” I say, trying to obliterate the thought of her being abused, but no amount of trying is going to get that concern out of my mind.

“I’ll talk to her and see what she needs. Don’t worry, Damian. We’ll take good care of her,” he says before disconnecting.

I inhale deeply, trying to shake off the anger that seems to have caught me in its grip at the thought of her situation. I pull out the precut salad material, arrange some on our plates before drizzling it with dressing, place them on the tray along with some garlic bread, and carry it to the bedroom.

Bryanna is sitting up in bed. She’s still wearing my shirt, and something about that sends an electrical thrum and energy coursing through my veins. I settle onto the side of the bed and balance the tray on my lap, watching as her eyes track the movement. She swallows and reaches for a piece of the bread. The thought that she’s absolutely starving, in the most literal sense of the word, settles over me. I try my hardest to keep the anger from bubbling up so as not to scare her, but it comes with great restraint on my part. “I talked to your physician. He wants you to eat slowly, one bite and spoonful at a time. Since I can’t trust you to do that on your own, I’m going to feed you myself,” I say before I can put the words back into my mouth.

She glances up at me from underneath those natural lashes, and her wide green eyes watch me as I bring the spoon of casserole to her mouth. Her cheeks pinken like she’s embarrassed, and I try to restrain my cock from hardening at the sight of her lips encompassing my offering, but it’s absolutely impossible. I’m just thankful the tray is covering the obvious attraction I have to my seductive little charge.

Bryanna almost inhales the first bite, and my blood pumps with rage at the fact that whatever she’s been through has caused her such evident hunger. She swallows another, and I already have the next one ready for her. I know it won’t do her any good if she expels it, so I slow down. “Take a small sip of water, and let it sit on your stomach. The residual effects of the drugs are still lingering. If you get sick, we have to start over,” I say.

She nods and lifts the glass of lemon water all on her own and takes just a small sip.

“Good, take it nice and slow, doll,” I say, and her wide green eyes search mine out. They are swirling with a myriad of emotions, and she’s as surprised as I am at the endearment that unintentionally slipped out.

I offer another spoonful of casserole, lifting it to her lips, and she eagerly takes the moist potato-and-meat mixture into her mouth. Bryanna lets out a soft little moan as she eats that goes straight to my dick, right before she swallows another bite I’ve given her.

“My aunt makes this meal. This is every bit as good as her recipe,” Bryanna says.

“How’s your stomach?” I ask, needing something to get my thoughts off of the sound of her little moans of appreciation.

“I think it’s okay. I’m so hungry,” Bryanna says softly, just barely above a whisper, and when I go to feed her another bite, the pent-up emotions she’s been hiding, despite the drugs trying to get out of her system, come flooding forward, and her eyes fill with tears that spill down her cheeks at such a rapid pace, I can barely wipe them as they fall.

“I’m so hungry,” she says softly.

“Bryanna, it’s okay; let me feed you. Your physician will be here shortly, and he’ll be able to tell if you need anything else.”

She nods, but the tears don’t stop. I wipe them intermittently as I spoon-feed her Gaby’s casserole, and she greedily inhales it as I do.

I offer the last spoonful in her dish, and her wide green eyes settle in on my bowl. I can’t help but smile. I can recall my mom saying something like a healthy appetite is a sign of a recovery, or some shit like that, and I begin to feed her the casserole from my dish as well.

---