Page 53 of Auctioned

OPHELIA

C ooking for James is super easy. Really.

I do my best. He eats it. End of story.

Catching him unprepared? Not so much.

Not at all.

When he walked in, I could tell his gaze flickered to where my hand rested under the blanket. The one that clutched the knife.

A moment. A short second. Recognition didn’t flash across his face. He cut his gaze back to mine just as fast.

I should’ve realized he had it figured out.

Nothing gets past him.

I’m paying for it now.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

My ass is on fire. Pain takes over my consciousness. His hand isn’t a mere hand. It’s a weapon. His spanking hurts almost as much as when he belts me.

It turns me on just as much.

Three on each side.

My body is exposed to him. I’m bent over and pressed against the couch as if I’m here for James’s entertainment. For him to humiliate me. He tore my clothes off. He won’t stop spanking me, making me wet for him.

“Fight me.” The familiar order drags me back to him. Away from the high. From the delicious, horrible pain.

My nipples are hard, grazing the couch. The friction, enhanced by the pain, is nice.

So nice.

“Ophelia.”

“He can’t kill us.” Oliver, James said. I’m floaty, but I’m pretty sure what I’m saying is true. “Maybe me. Not you. No one can kill you.”

“Neither of us”—metal clinks, then leather. His belt whooshes as James removes it from the loops—“is going to die.”

The sting on my ass is horrible. I howl at the pain. At the pleasure only he can deliver.

“Not tonight.” Ow! “Or tomorrow.” Jesus, that hurts. “Do you hear me?”

I’m hot and aching. My nails sink into the couch. My mind is racing with ways to get myself out of this mess, to make him proud of me.

Another blow.

Rain descends on the windows. Pounding. Brutal.

Nowhere near as brutal as James.

Just the way I love it.

“Okay, okay.” Catching my breath. I have to do that. Then, I plot my next move. “We won’t die.”

I stare up at him. His harsh expression. His sharp jaw. There’s no mercy in his icy eyes.

I’m soaking for him. Desperate for him to shove his cock inside me.

Delirious with it.

“Fight.” He strikes me one last time, discarding the belt. “Me.”

Pain. It’s almost too much to bear. My vision blurs around the edges. James slides his hand to the nape of my neck, shaking me. Leaning into my face.

“Why aren’t you fighting?” His thick eyebrows lower. He thrusts his hips forward, his hard length pressed against my sensitive ass.

“Why are you doing this?” I push against the couch. Not enough. Nothing will ever be enough when I’m hurt and aroused. Nothing other than his thick cock slamming into me.

“You know this. You’re my equal now. You have to know why.”

His equal? Me?

Can’t be. I’m the woman he kidnapped. Auctioned. Bought. The woman he chains by the ankle every day before work.

Then again, I’m also the woman he’s training to be a lawyer. A murderer.

So maybe, yeah. I am his equal.

“How are you going to kill him?” My breath hitches at his low growl. “And I don’t want to hear anything about putting a bullet through his head.”

“A gun?” I haven’t seen a gun lying around this place. Doesn’t mean it’s not here. It or they.

“A gun won’t do.”

A moan escapes me. Can’t hold it in. Can’t hold back the heat pooling between my thighs.

Two thick fingers slip inside my pussy. I gasp.

“God, you’re so wet for this.” He nips at my earlobe, curling his fingers to reach that—oh, fuck—spot. “Desperate for violence. For taking down the people who wronged you. Who wrong others.”

I’m melting for him. I’m a puddle at his feet. Can’t. Think.

“Fight me.” He drags his fingers out, slamming back into me with four fingers. “Fight. Me.”

James stretches me. Pushes me onto the couch. His fingers barrel pleasure upon pleasure onto me. Over and over and over.

My toes curl, and my breath is knocked from my lungs. I come, pulsating around his fingers.

I’m close to being lost to the sensations. To James’s ravenous eyes as he takes me in.

Close.

But then I think fast, twisting my head, clamping my teeth on his chin. My foot kicks his shin. I elbow his stomach.

The quick and sudden attack finally shocks him.

I don’t let go of his chin.

“Fuck,” he growls, eyes narrowed, lust and anger flashing in them. “That’s it.”

His momentary surprise is the only leverage I’ll have in this battle. He won’t let me have another one.

I’m quick to slip from beneath him and slide over to where he tossed the knife.

My ripped leggings, ankle cuff, and chain slow me down. I get there anyway.

My hand locks around the handle of the knife.

I toe off my leggings as fast as humanly possible so I won’t stumble on them.

Turn to face him and?—

“Come here.” James’s hand is demanding around mine.

He’s trying to steal the knife, just as he did before.

His gaze is dark. His other hand is a manacle around my throat, pinning me to the floor.

He’s terrifyingly gorgeous. “That’s fucking better.

What are you going to do about it? You’re trapped.

Miserable. Overpowered. I can fuck you into the floor.

Mark your pretty little cunt with my cum.

Your ass too. I’ll have you however I want. Fight. Me.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice. Adrenaline shoots through my veins. The need to prove to him that I’m worthy of him is overwhelming.

The idea of taking down Oliver, the man who thrived on Baylor’s pain, that helps too.

I lift my head, biting his arm. He keeps holding on to my hand. Dips the knife another inch toward my face. I bite harder. Push back, as challenging as it is.

Twisting the knife toward his face is practically impossible.

So I do the only thing left for me to do.

While I don’t want to knee him in the balls—I love them—I have to. With what little space he’s left me, I do that.

“Jesus.” His lips twitch, and he pins me harder into the floor.

He’s busy protecting his cock, and I manage to spin the knife in his direction. Tear into his shirt, right where his collarbone is. Where I won’t cause him to bleed out or hurt a vital organ, no matter how hard I strike.

“Yes, fuck.” His blood drips on me. I taste him on my tongue. Moan at his feral glare. “That’s”—I slice deeper, moving the knife horizontally—“what I need from you. That’s my girl.”

I’m drowning in his praise.

In the process, I’ve lost my edge over him.

I no longer need my edge.

Our class is over.

James gains control of the knife a second time, hurling it over to the other side of the living room. He sits on his knees, hooks his fingers into the collar of my shirt, and tears it right down the middle from the front this time. The ripped fabric falls to my sides.

“Let me see exactly what I paid for.” The look in his eyes as his gaze roams over my body is electric. It steals my breath away.

“Well?” I’m mindless. Boneless. His. “Was it worth it?”

“It wasn’t enough.”

Rejection locks my throat. I’m covered in his blood. Warmed by his body. I belong to him in every sense of the word.

And I wasn’t enough?

“My bid, Ophelia. My bid wasn’t enough.” The black of his irises pushes out the blue.

His lips twist in a snarl. “I would’ve paid so much more for you.

Would’ve liquidated every asset in my possession.

Would’ve sold my organs to have you. Killed for you.

I will kill for you, damn it. You matter.

You take up the entire space in my damaged soul.

I could be living out on the street. I could lose my job.

I could lose my fucking son. Without you? I’m as good as dead.”

“I’d have come to you freely.” The confession pushes itself out of me. “Wanting you was the other reason I was going to break up with?—”

James slams a hand over my mouth. His other hand works the fly of his pants.

“I couldn’t stay with him,” I say after he releases me, pushing my legs to the sides. “When I was attracted to you.”

“And?” James fists his cock, rubbing it between my lips. Over my clit. Desire makes me heady.

“Cheating. It felt like I was cheating on Topher.” I tilt my hips up. He shoves me back down, controlling me. “I don’t cheat. Even in my head.”

He makes a satisfied sound at the back of his throat. I’m amazed by how I own him too. How he’s affected by my words. My devotion.

He takes and takes from me. My consent isn’t always required for him to touch me. To pleasure me.

He calls me property. Degrades me. Gets off on humiliating me.

He’s an evil man. The worst.

I love him, nonetheless.

I have his heart in the palm of my hand.

I have to protect him from the consequences of what we’re doing.

Worst kind of thought to have right now. Or ever. It has no place here. But…

His life could’ve been easier without me in it.

Killing Topher was never a part of his plan, I think.

Gut-wrenching sadness squeezes at my heart.

Later. Later. Now, I have him here. So close. I won’t turn him away. I have him.

Later.

“Mine.” One word, and he shoves every thick inch of his cock inside me. Forcing the air out of my lungs. I’m so fucking full of him, my hands clinging to his shirt. “You’ll always be mine. Your drenched cunt. Your beautiful heart. Mine.”

“I will, always.”

“All of you. Mine.” His tattooed hand skims across my navel, up to my throat. His touch is as possessive as the look he’s pinning me with. As his ruthless as his thrusts are. “This mouth…”

He leans in. Hand on my jaw, mouth crashing to mine. He’s aggressive, groaning, grunting. Biting, sucking. His tongue swipes across mine and, oh fuck , he changes the angle of his body to fuck me more thoroughly. As his toned stomach rubs against my clit, I can’t take it.

I’m only aware that I’m breathing because of how hard I’m screaming into his mouth. This orgasm hurts. It’s explosive, ruining both of us. Putting us back together as one.

“God, you’re squeezing my cock, begging me to breed you.” He’s like a beast, pummeling relentlessly. “But I’m not done. We’re not done.”

James dips two fingers into the new gash in his collarbone.

“My blood.” It trickles down his fingers, painting the rose in red. The gory sight doesn’t repulse me. I’m used to having his blood on me. His spit. His cum. “Your blood.”

I understand what he’s demanding of me without him having to spell it out. My lips part for him. Tongue darting out. I had his blood on me.

This, his two blood-coated fingers shoved into my mouth, is different. Personal.

It’s devotion.

“Suck.”

I do, wrapping my lips around his fingers while he fucks my mouth. Fucks my pussy thoroughly.

When he removes his hand from my mouth, I groan, mad that he’s taking it from me. I hate that he’s sitting on his knees.

“You’ll take what I give you.” James has a hand gripping beneath my thigh, hiking it up.

Just when I think he can’t surprise me anymore, he does.

His fingers probe into his wound again. His blood isn’t meant for my mouth this time.

It’s for my clit. It’s obscene, how he paints my pussy red.

How good it feels. “My slut. My assassin. Come for me again.”

“Hurts.” The metallic taste is exquisite in my mouth. I lick my lips. Clench my thighs. Stare at this man that I’m madly in love with. “Hurts. Please. I can’t come another time.”

“Don’t care.” His thumb works faster. Circling my sensitive clit. He smears blood on my pussy. On his cock. We’re painted in it. “I said come, and you will come for me.”

“Please.”

“Shut up.” The pounding rain. Every flash of lightning and rumble of thunder outside the windows.

Nothing compares to him, this God. “This pussy is mine. If I tell you to come”—he pinches, twists, tugs my clit—“you will. As many times as I tell you to. Your cunt will milk my cock dry. Take every drop. Be full with my babies. Because I. Said. So.”

Resisting him is as impossible as living without air. As I come, pulsing around his cock, my back arches.

My soul elevates.

He releases my thigh, catching my moans with his mouth. Coming inside me, his feral growl ruins me. His violent, merciless thrusts own me.

“Sonnet,” he exhales against my lips. Rocks his hips and his cum into me. “I’d have given them my right arm to have you. To own you. Everything I have. I’d have given everything. Never forget that.”

I won’t.

That’s why my heart does that weird, painful twist in my chest like before.

I’ll do everything in my power for him too. To protect him, so he’ll have everything.

Even if I’m not an active part in his life anymore.

Love is about being selfless.

As devastating as that might be.