Page 117
Story: The Auction Block
"Let's go to bed, baby," I whisper, pulling him toward the bedroom.
I drag him away, the voices of his parents behind us in a heated argument. I let go of his hand once inside the room, and he slams the door closed with enough force to crack the wood at the top of the frame. I turn around and stare at him, wide-eyed, and somewhat frightened. I don't think being in confinement is good for him.
"Explain," I say forcefully.
He leans his back against the door. "I'd rather not."
"So, it's cool for you to spend the last four months trying to get me to talk about shit, but the first time I pry, you want to clam up. I don't fucking think so, Mason, spill it."
He closes his eyes, chest slowly rising and falling, as he opens them again. He pushes off the door and walks toward me, leaning down and kissing me, hard, pulling my body against his. Just as my body starts to get lost in his, he pulls away, taking my hand and dragging me to the bed.
He plops down, pulling me into his lap, and falling back on the bed so I'm curled up on his chest. I roll, straddling him, and he runs his hands up and down my sides.
"I'll make you a deal, I'll tell you something about my past, and you tell me something about yours," he says staring into my eyes with determination.
"Is this your way of trying to avoid talking about yourself," I ask, raising my eyebrows.
"No, it's my way of us getting to know each other better. Four months, and we hardly know anything."
I can't argue that fact. Blake knows more about me than anyone else, but it still isn't much.
"Okay."
"My dad met my biological mother while he was vacationing in Hawaii. They ended up having a fling and I was the result," he says impassively.
I sigh, trying to recall the things about my childhood Jax told me. "My father sold me to the Taurus to pay a debt he owed."
"I thought you didn't remember your childhood?"
"I don't. I only know what Jax told me. I've never looked into it myself."
"How come?"
I think carefully before answering, wanting to be honest with him. He reaches up and trails his fingertips across my collarbones, lingering on the brand.
"I don't want to remember. What good will ever come of that?"
He holds his breath for a moment. "My mother moved to Baltimore with my dad, but he refused to marry her. By the time I was six months old, she wanted to go back to Hawaii, but my dad made her promises about how he loved her and that he'd marry her when the time was right, so she stayed."
"Did your mom tell you all this when you were a kid?"
"Some. Some of it my father told me when I got to my teenage years."
I lean down and press my lips to his. His body is tenser than the string of a drawn longbow, his face etched in pain. He moans and my tongue finds his as he rolls, pinning my body under his. He pulls back staring me in the face.
"Anyway, to make this short because I don't feel like spending the night upset," he says quickly, "My Dad eventually married my mother, but he treated her like shit. She worked three jobs because even with all the money he had, he'd never help her with anything. When I was five, he left her for Carmen, and treated her like gold. Bought her everything— did everything for her he never did for my mother. When I was twelve, my mom killed herself and I had to go live with my father, his new wife, and my baby sister. So that's it."
I pull his lips back to mine and kiss him until the tension leaves his body. He stares down at me again, and my stomach tightens.
My turn.
"Lily Williams isn't my real name," I whisper looking at his chest.
He takes a sharp breath, and I wait for the outburst to follow. He's the only person I've ever admitted this too.
"What?" he says, his voice gentle and soothing.
I meet his gaze again. "By the time I was nine, I'd blocked out everything about my past. The owner I had asked my name and I couldn't remember. He thought I was being defiant, refusing to tell him. He tied me up and beat me, saying he wouldn't stop until I answered. After almost two hours, I screamed the name Lily. It's been my name ever since," I said, voice strangled, a single tear rolling down my face.
I drag him away, the voices of his parents behind us in a heated argument. I let go of his hand once inside the room, and he slams the door closed with enough force to crack the wood at the top of the frame. I turn around and stare at him, wide-eyed, and somewhat frightened. I don't think being in confinement is good for him.
"Explain," I say forcefully.
He leans his back against the door. "I'd rather not."
"So, it's cool for you to spend the last four months trying to get me to talk about shit, but the first time I pry, you want to clam up. I don't fucking think so, Mason, spill it."
He closes his eyes, chest slowly rising and falling, as he opens them again. He pushes off the door and walks toward me, leaning down and kissing me, hard, pulling my body against his. Just as my body starts to get lost in his, he pulls away, taking my hand and dragging me to the bed.
He plops down, pulling me into his lap, and falling back on the bed so I'm curled up on his chest. I roll, straddling him, and he runs his hands up and down my sides.
"I'll make you a deal, I'll tell you something about my past, and you tell me something about yours," he says staring into my eyes with determination.
"Is this your way of trying to avoid talking about yourself," I ask, raising my eyebrows.
"No, it's my way of us getting to know each other better. Four months, and we hardly know anything."
I can't argue that fact. Blake knows more about me than anyone else, but it still isn't much.
"Okay."
"My dad met my biological mother while he was vacationing in Hawaii. They ended up having a fling and I was the result," he says impassively.
I sigh, trying to recall the things about my childhood Jax told me. "My father sold me to the Taurus to pay a debt he owed."
"I thought you didn't remember your childhood?"
"I don't. I only know what Jax told me. I've never looked into it myself."
"How come?"
I think carefully before answering, wanting to be honest with him. He reaches up and trails his fingertips across my collarbones, lingering on the brand.
"I don't want to remember. What good will ever come of that?"
He holds his breath for a moment. "My mother moved to Baltimore with my dad, but he refused to marry her. By the time I was six months old, she wanted to go back to Hawaii, but my dad made her promises about how he loved her and that he'd marry her when the time was right, so she stayed."
"Did your mom tell you all this when you were a kid?"
"Some. Some of it my father told me when I got to my teenage years."
I lean down and press my lips to his. His body is tenser than the string of a drawn longbow, his face etched in pain. He moans and my tongue finds his as he rolls, pinning my body under his. He pulls back staring me in the face.
"Anyway, to make this short because I don't feel like spending the night upset," he says quickly, "My Dad eventually married my mother, but he treated her like shit. She worked three jobs because even with all the money he had, he'd never help her with anything. When I was five, he left her for Carmen, and treated her like gold. Bought her everything— did everything for her he never did for my mother. When I was twelve, my mom killed herself and I had to go live with my father, his new wife, and my baby sister. So that's it."
I pull his lips back to mine and kiss him until the tension leaves his body. He stares down at me again, and my stomach tightens.
My turn.
"Lily Williams isn't my real name," I whisper looking at his chest.
He takes a sharp breath, and I wait for the outburst to follow. He's the only person I've ever admitted this too.
"What?" he says, his voice gentle and soothing.
I meet his gaze again. "By the time I was nine, I'd blocked out everything about my past. The owner I had asked my name and I couldn't remember. He thought I was being defiant, refusing to tell him. He tied me up and beat me, saying he wouldn't stop until I answered. After almost two hours, I screamed the name Lily. It's been my name ever since," I said, voice strangled, a single tear rolling down my face.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 114
- Page 115
- Page 116
- Page 117
- Page 118
- Page 119
- Page 120
- Page 121
- Page 122
- Page 123
- Page 124
- Page 125
- Page 126
- Page 127
- Page 128
- Page 129
- Page 130
- Page 131
- Page 132
- Page 133
- Page 134
- Page 135
- Page 136
- Page 137
- Page 138
- Page 139
- Page 140
- Page 141
- Page 142
- Page 143
- Page 144
- Page 145
- Page 146
- Page 147
- Page 148
- Page 149
- Page 150
- Page 151
- Page 152
- Page 153