Page 64
Story: Auctioned
“Hmm.” He strokes my hair, running the pregnancy test through the strands in a possessive gesture. “Better, but too little, too late. I’m still not convinced.”
Sliding the hand he has in my hair down my back, over the scar, he lights up every nerve ending on my body.
“About what?” I gasp and moan, clenching my thighs on air.
“That you really want this, me. That I’m the one who gets you so hot you can hardly stand it.”
“You are.”
My shaky words go right over his head. He spanks me, and this one hurts everywhere.
I’m almost there, almost coming on nothing, when he shoves two fingers into my pussy.
“Oh God.” Maybe it’s the pregnancy making me this sensitive. This feral. Could be.
Mostly, it’s James.
Always James.
“That’s right. That’s what I am. Your fucking God.” He’s moved so he’s kneeling, pulling his fingers out of me. I cry a desperate no .
“That’s a good girl.” The evidence of my arousal is obvious on his fingers. In the white light of the snow. I’m soaked and panting when he puts them in his mouth and groans. He’s just as feral as I am. “And good girls get their reward.”
“Reward?”
Another spanking leaves a wet mark on my ass. James’s face is all sharp angles. The muscles are pulled tight. He’s barely hanging on himself. His cock is about to tear through his pants, the only indication that he’s as desperate as I am.
“You’re going to do even better for me, won’t you?” Gracefully, James leans toward me, placing his hand on the floor.
“How? Tell me how.”
“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 for me . 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.
The stick goes flying in the air.
“Yes. Fuck. Such a good girl.” He flips me on my back, lowering me to the floor, towering over me.
His mouth is on my neck, his teeth grazing my hypersensitive skin.
One hand is flat on my stomach, right over my navel.
“I’ll always be here for you. I’m never leaving.
You and our babies will always be safe. I’ll spend the rest of my life protecting you.
” He sucks on my neck, groaning. “Fuck.”
Ripping the dress off my body, his mouth delivers sensual, hungry kisses to my bare stomach. His hands travel up my thighs, to my waist, the undersides of my breasts. When he climbs back up my body, he tastes every inch of me. Biting. Sucking.
My nipples are sore from his attention. From his teeth and fingers. I moan louder when he apologizes with his tongue.
“Marry me,” he demands once he’s balls deep inside me. With his beautiful face above mine. “Be my wife, Ophelia.”
“Thought—” Difficult. To. Breathe. I’m being pounded by a savage. An animal. “That marriage is overrated.”
“Past tense. And this isn’t up for debate. Your consent isn’t required.” He grips the back of my thigh, lifting it to fuck me harder. “You’re going to be my wife. We’re getting the hell out of this town. To a new, better place. Clean slate. You and me, wife.”
I cup his cheeks. Cry and gasp for air as I come a second time. “Yes. Yes, I’ll be your wife. Yes, I’ll disappear with you. I love you. I love you so much.”
His dirty talk never fails to push me over the edge.
Apparently, my love declaration has the same effect on him.
He groans, kissing me with everything he’s got while he empties himself into me.
“I love you.” His forehead is hot against mine. The slow roll of his hips lulls me into a sweet trance. “I own you. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Forever. Say you understand.”
“I do. Forever.”
“Forever.”
The End.
Table of Contents
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