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“You don’t need me to tell you.” He’s grip on my ass is going to leave a mark. I don’t understand what he’s asking of me, why his hand is on the floor. “You know what to do.”

“Tell me. Please.” I’m genuinely confused. Too happy. Too hot. Too needy.

“Come here.” Pressure on my hips. He’s pushing me down. Lower, lower, lower, until…

“Oh.” The tip of the pregnancy test grazes my clit, sending sparks through my body.

It doesn’t get more wrong than this. More filthy.

Wait, it does, and it’s my fault. I can’t help myself. I’m grinding my hips, shuddering at the friction. At the pleasure of it.

“That’s it.” James’s jaw tics, his breath shallow. He wants this badly. He gets off on debasing me. “That’s my good fucking girl. Letting me use your body. Turn you into a fucked-up little toy.”

He trails his hand up to the small of my back, nudging me forward and pushing me even lower than before. My legs shake with the effort. With the desire swarming through my veins.

James positions my dripping hole on top of the pregnancy test. He narrows his eyes, trailing his gaze along my parted lips, and my eyes widen in response.

“No.”Yes.

“Do as you’re told.” He changes his grip on my hip so I don’t collapse to the floor. “Fuck the stick, Ophelia. I’m not putting my dick into you before you make yourself come on it.”

I’m aching to be good for him. I try to, rising and lowering myself on the positive pregnancy test. But my muscles are trembling despite James holding me up.

“Faster.” James’s fingers bite into my flesh. “Deeper. Take it.”

“Trying.” My thighs scream in protest. I’ll die before I stop grinding my hips.

He’s helping me, he’s there for me. Same as always. Supporting me, lifting me, shoving me down. Telling me I’m so fucking good. How hard I make him.

It’s not enough. I can’t reach the floor. Can’t make it sink all the way in.

“Ophelia.”Spank, and he’s grabbing me again. “You told me you were wet forme. Desperate for me. Prove it. Prove to Topher that you were never his. That you’re strong enough to fuck this stick because I said so. Because it’s me you want. Because you’ll do everything and anything for me.”

This is the worst.

We’re going to go to hell for this.

No other place I’d like to spend the afterlife in. No other person I’d rather burn with in eternal damnation.

I flicker my gaze to the urn sitting on one of the end tables. James bought the best one for his son. Gold. Handmade. It costs more than what most people make in a year.

But I don’t care about the vase.

I care about what’s in it.

The man who tricked me. Who planned to hurt me and James.

“I’d choose your dad in a thousand lifetimes,” I hiss at the urn. James rubs my ass. Pushes me another inch onto the pregnancy test stick, and I give in. Moving past the exertion and the discomfort. “Die a million deaths so his heart keeps beating. So he can keep fucking me like no other man ever could. So he can love me every day for the rest of my life.”

“Fuck. Fuck.” James is no longer tentative. Doesn’t adjust me or guide me. He’s close to me, his body pinned to mine, his hand forcing me up and down on the stick. “Come, Ophelia. Show him what a good slut you are for me. I need to fuck you. Need inside you. Do it.”

As obscene as it is, as filthy, I finally find the strength to do it. I fuck the stick, looking at the man who saved me, mainly from myself.

He says dirty words to me. He hurts me. He devours me with his gaze.

I come for him. White-hot light bursts from inside me, turning me inside out. I cry out James’s name like he’s my God. Like he’s my everything.

He really is.