Page 23 of The Auction (The Black Ledger Billionaires #4)

I don’t think I’ve stopped grinning since the moment she came downstairs. Three hours in the truck, music up, her singing along—sometimes badly, sometimes better than she’d probably admit—and she still looked fresh, eyes bright.

I’d forgotten how easy it could be to just… have fun with someone.

The poor woes of a rich boy, I know. But most people around me are there because they work for me. Or because they want something—money, a spotlight, a leg up toward something—and then they’re gone.

My close circle is small. Really fucking small.

But I don’t have to worry about any of that with Cass. She’s known me forever. Seen me in rags that were too small and falling apart, and later in Jonathan’s hand-me-downs. Better fitting, sure. Certainly the nicest things I ever had back then—but still, never mine.

She’s seen every part of me… mostly. Not how things were before my mom took a job with the Hayes’. And not lately, since we went our separate ways. That was my fault. I had my reasons.

I hated those reasons, but back then I believed them. I used to think Jonathan was right—that it was for her good.

But now… I’m starting to see a side of my friend I’ve never seen before, not until I started seeing him through Cassidy’s eyes. And it’s got me rethinking everything I thought I knew about him—what he’s capable of, what else I don’t know.

I shake it off. That’s not for today.

Today is her. On the back of my bike, exactly where I want her.

I love having her there—the weight of her against me, her arms wrapped tight around my waist. Too tight at first, but it doesn’t last. She loosens, finds her rhythm with mine.

We start slow, but I open it up a little more each time, feeling her excitement build through the way she leans into me. She’s having the time of her life, and it shows—she’s getting more comfortable by the second.

The turns are where I really test her. I start conservative, then push faster, dropping us lower into each lean. She listens well, matches my movement, and it feels good—how we fit together like this.

“Want to try something?” I ask when we hit a long bend.

“What?”

“Touch the pavement on the turns. Just your fingertips.”

Her laugh is nervous. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe. But you’ll love it.”

The first few times she tries, she pulls back before she’s anywhere close. I don’t push her—just take us into the turns smoother, lower, letting her feel how much control I’ve got.

Finally, on the third try, her hand skims the pavement. She squeals so loud it nearly bursts my eardrum.

I laugh through the comms. “Damn, Crick. You’re gonna make me deaf.”

“Worth it!” she shouts, still laughing.

And fuck, she’s right. Everything would be worth it with her.

I’m fucking starving. And if I’m hungry, I know she has to be too.

“All right,” I say over the comms, “you wanna go fast now?”

Her voice is incredulous. “That wasn’t fast before?”

I feel her grip tighten, her body scooting even closer against me. I can’t stop the grin that spreads under my helmet. Should’ve done this earlier.

“You trust me?” I ask.

I feel her nod, but then she says it out loud too. “Yes.”

“Okay, baby. Hold on tight. Here we go.”

The road ahead clears, and I lock in—eyes forward, weight balanced, her pressed warm and solid at my back. I lean us into the first curve and she comes with me, and then we’re flying.

I push it as far as I think I can safely take her. Not as much as I’d do riding solo, but still a hell of a lot faster than anything we’ve done today.

And she loves it. I can feel it in the way she moves with me, the way her laughter cuts through the comms like pure adrenaline.

We eventually roll into a little hole-in-the-wall spot I know—best burritos on the planet. The guy behind the counter recognizes me instantly, greeting me like we’re old friends.

Cass tilts her head. “Everyone seems to love you everywhere you go.”

I smirk. “Yeah, well… I’m incredibly lovable.”

She glances at me over her menu. “Do they not know you’re a giant turd?”

I laugh. “A turd. You’re so mature, Cricket.”

I’ve been watching the clock all afternoon, but not because I’m in a rush to get back.

There’s a spot I want to take her to—one I’ve been saving. If I time it right, we’ll hit it just before sunset.

The road winds upward until we pull off to a small dirt lot.

From there, it’s a short hike to a wide rock ledge that overlooks the valley.

We sit side by side, legs stretched out, the warm stone beneath us radiating the last of the day’s heat.

The view is all soft oranges and pinks bleeding into each other, with streaks of purple at the edges.

Lightning flickers way off in the distance, far enough to be beautiful, not dangerous.

She’s looking at the horizon, but I’m looking at her.

“Pretty, huh?” she says without glancing my way.

“Yeah,” I answer, but I’m not talking about the sunset.

The light catches in her eyes when she finally looks at me, and for a second, neither of us says anything.

I can feel the shift, that quiet stretch of time where everything slows.

My heart kicks up, which is ridiculous—I’ve kissed plenty of women.

But she’s not plenty of women. She’s her . My Cricket.

She must see something in my face because her lips part, and she stops fidgeting with the zipper on her jacket. There’s this stillness in her, like she’s holding her breath without realizing it.

“You’ve got that look,” she says softly, almost like she’s teasing but too curious to commit to it.

“What look?”

“The one you get before you do something you’re not supposed to.”

I smirk, leaning in just slightly, close enough to watch her pupils expand. “Maybe I’m about to.”

Her lashes lower for a second, then lift again, meeting my eyes head-on. She knows. I can feel it in the way she tilts her chin up a fraction, not pulling away.

The space between us disappears slowly, my hand finding the side of her jaw. She’s warm, her pulse thrumming under my fingertips.

When our lips finally meet, it’s soft at first—testing, savoring—but it builds fast. Her mouth fits mine perfectly, and the world around us fades until there’s nothing but her, the taste of her, the way she exhales like she’s been holding that moment in for years.

It’s the best kiss I’ve ever had.

Thunder rolls closer, low and heavy, and then the first drops fall. We pull back, glance at each other, and the shared grin says everything.

We make a run for the bike, the rain turning from playful to a downpour in seconds. She’s laughing by the time we reach it, hair plastered to her cheeks, jacket dripping.

Before she can grab her helmet, I catch her wrist and pull her in again. This kiss is different—harder, wetter, full of the rush from running through the storm.

“Every girl needs to be kissed in the rain at least once in her life,” I murmur against her lips.

She smiles like she’s storing the moment somewhere permanent and kisses me back, rain and all.

The rain’s not letting up. It’s not just a shower—it’s the kind that soaks you straight through in seconds.

“We’ll need to wait it out a little,” I tell her, swinging a leg over the bike and looking around for some kind of shelter. There’s nothing but wet trees, a narrow strip of road, and the view behind us swallowed by gray.

But she doesn’t move toward cover. “I don’t want to,” she says. “Feels nice.”

She’s standing there with her face turned up to the sky, rain dripping down her hair, her jacket molding to her body in all the right ways, and I swear she’s going to kill me.

Then she looks at me sideways. “How many other girls have you brought out on your bike?”

“None.” My voice leaves no room for doubt.

Her brows lift. “None?”

“You’re the only one I’ve put on the back of it.”

Her lips twitch. “Have you ever had sex on it before?”

Only in every wet dream I’ve had about her for a long time. But I shake my head. “No.”

She tilts her head. “Then how would that fantasy go?”

I grin, get back on the bike, and pat the space in front of me. “Come here and I’ll show you.”

She climbs up, straddling the tank, her ass in my lap. The contact is immediate and addictive. I rock my hips into her, slow at first, my hands sliding over her rain-slick thighs. She’s warm under the gear, every shift of her body pressing against me just right.

One arm wraps around her, pulling her tighter as my other hand slips between her legs. My fingers find her through the damp fabric, adding steady pressure to her clit while I rock her forward and back. The rain’s pounding on us but neither of us cares.

I lean in to her ear, my voice low. “If we weren’t in the middle of a storm, I’d take my time. Strip you bare. Have you riding me right here until you couldn’t remember your own name.”

Her breathing’s heavier now, her hips moving with mine, and I know I’ve got her.

I shift, lifting her like she weighs nothing, turning her around to face me. She’s perched on the gas tank, her knees bracketing my hips, and I’m already imagining her there without all this gear.

“I could eat you like this,” I tell her, sliding my hands under her thighs.

I hook one leg over my shoulder, making her lean back against the handlebars to keep balance. The way she looks at me right now—lips parted, eyes dark—I know she’s drenched under those pants, and not from the rain.

I kiss the inside of her thigh, slow, before biting just hard enough to make her yelp.

“Thought so,” I murmur.

I pull her back down to straddle me, my hands gripping her ass, moving her hips against me. Her arms loop around my neck, and when I kiss her again, she grinds on me like she’s been waiting for this all day.

She leans back, bracing herself on the handlebars, working her hips in slow circles over my cock. The friction’s brutal in the best way. I keep my hands on her, guiding her pace, murmuring in her ear,

The wet leather squeaks against my gloves, and every drag of her body over my cock has me fighting for control.

“Does this feel good?” I murmur against her ear.

She nods, breathless.

“Say it, Cricket.”

“It feels… really good,” she admits, the words almost a gasp as her forehead presses to mine.

“Yeah? Tell me what you like about it.”

Her hips stutter, but I keep her moving, pushing her to stay with me. “I like… how close you are. The way you’re holding me. The way it—” She breaks off on a shiver when I press harder against her clit.

“The way it makes you what?”

“—makes me feel like I can’t breathe… but I don’t want to stop.”

“Fuck,” I groan, because she doesn’t even know what she’s doing to me. “Feels good for me too, baby. So fucking good. You’re about to make me come and I haven’t even slipped inside you yet.”

Her nails dig into my shoulders, her thighs tightening around my hips. I can feel the tremors starting in her, the way her breath catches every time I grind her down and pull her back up. She’s close—too close—and I want to watch her fall apart for me.

“Jaxon,” Her mouth drops open and I nip at her full bottom lip.

“Fuck, Cricket… don’t you dare stop.”

Her head tilts back as the orgasm hits, a raw, unguarded cry tearing from her throat. It’s not pretty or practiced—it’s real. It’s her. And it’s so goddamn perfect it wrecks me.

I lose it with her, my hips jerking up into hers as the tension snaps hard and fast. The heat floods through me, and I let out a rough, guttural sound I couldn’t hide if I wanted to.

I press my forehead to hers. Both of us panting. My hands rubbing up her soaked clothes. “You see what you’re doing to me?”

Her eyes go wide like she’s just caught on to what happened. “Wait… did you come too?” she asks it like there’s a crowd listening, even though it’s just us and the rain.

I don’t bother hiding the truth. “Fuck yes I did. You drive me crazy, baby. Always have.”

And I mean it.

Not even five minutes later, the rain eases up. We make it back to the truck dripping, and flushed. She’s smiling in that way that makes my chest ache.

I load the bike while she ducks inside to change, peeling herself out of the soaked riding gear.

When she comes back out, I’m already unbuckling my pants.

Her eyes go wide. “What are you doing?”

I give her a look like it should be obvious. “What, you expect me to ride home for three hours with cum in my pants?”

Her mouth opens, shuts, opens again—no comeback. Just a little sputtered noise and a blush that shoots straight down her neck. I smirk as I strip out of the ruined jeans and toss them in the back with the rest of the wet gear.

She climbs into the truck, buckling in and facing forward like that’s going to hide the fact that she’s flustered as hell. I can’t help it—I’m grinning the whole time.

We’re barely thirty minutes into the drive before her head tips toward the window. It doesn’t take long until she’s out completely, breathing soft and even.

I steal glances at her when I can, watching the way her damp hair sticks in soft curls to her cheek, the way she’s curled into herself like she’s been doing that in my passenger seat her whole life.

I make sure to keep her seat warmer on so she doesn’t get cold and think about putting a blanket in here for next time.

By the time we pull into the penthouse’s private garage, it’s full dark.

She stirs when I kill the engine but doesn’t wake all the way.

I get out, circle to her side, and scoop her up without a second thought.

She makes a sleepy noise but doesn’t protest, her head resting on my shoulder, burying her face in my neck and exhaling deeply.

Upstairs, I lay her down in my bed, carefully removing her shoes and dry clothes. I slip my old baseball shirt on her before I reach under and remove her bra.

I press a kiss to her temple—a quiet, unguarded thing I’m not even sure she feels. Her lashes flutter but she doesn’t open her eyes.

Since the Great Wall of Chastity has officially been breached, I strip down to my boxers and slide in behind her, fitting my body to hers. She’s warm and soft against me, and for once, I don’t feel the need to think about anything else—no plans, no schedules, no Jonathan, no contract.

Just her.

I pull her closer, my arm banding around her waist, and let the rhythm of her breathing pull me under.