Page 25 of Dual Surrender

“Auction.”

“For what exactly?”

“Himself.” Ronan leaned forward and dropped his elbows onto his knees, slipping his feet onto the floor and resting his head in his hands. I carded my fingers through his hair while he made depressed sounds in the back of his throat.

“How does that work?”

“He wants to find someone to play with, but not a stranger.”

“And how would an auction solve that?” I asked.

“At Rapture,” Ronan grumbled. “He’d have Gregory and Landon vet everyone, then hope for the best.”

“I didn’t know they were in the market for arranging matchmaking events.”

“Charity auction. LGBT youth.”

I sighed. “He’s clever.”

“He’s calculating.” Ronan reached up and petted the top of my hand, then leaned back and hauled me with him onto the couch.

I arranged myself on his lap, one leg on either side of his spread thighs, flattening my hands on his chest.

“You know, if it’s come down to that, you could just…” I trailed off. I didn’t need to verbalize the rest of the thought—Ronan knew what I meant.

If Foster was stretched that thin about not having anyone to play with, I could spare Ronan a night or two. I didn’t think they would fuck, and things had been really good between us for the past week. I wasn’t worried about him losing interest in me or anything like that. Ronan and I were solid, even when we were shaky.

Ever since the redo of our anniversary date, Ronan had been coming up with the most intense ideas of things for us to do and try. Life with him had turned into a surprise where I was always guessing what would come next. Living with the fear of the unknown was something I hadn’t done in a long time, but it wasn’t unwelcome.

As if he could tell what I was thinking, Ronan snaked his hands under my shirt, fingers grasping and plucking at the nipple rings he’d left me with three days prior. I shivered, the pain unlike anything I’d experienced before. Ronan had set me on the closed lid of the toilet and pierced me twice, then he’d choked me with his cock until I’d nearly passed out.

A dream.

But as he plucked and twisted at the hoops he’d put inside my body, I was reminded it was reality. My reality. I shivered again and arched, pushing my chest toward him and dropping my head back.

“I only want you,” Ronan said.

“I know, but…”

“You.” He pinched, the hoops slipping around as he manipulated my skin.

“Yes, Ronan,” I agreed.

He released my nipples and skirted his hands down to my waist, adjusting me on top of him so I could feel his hardness beneath me. A cruel tease, something he’d always been good at.

“Tell me about your day,” he said, rocking my body on top of his.

“I met with a client.” I gasped. “A woman.”

“What did she want with you?”

“Redesign on a condo.” I bit the inside of my cheek to stifle a groan. “Divorce.”

“She must have made out well.”

“What does that mean?” I balked.

“You’re not cheap.” Ronan moved his hips off the couch, pushing against me again. “Or easy.”