Page 29 of The Auction (The Black Ledger Billionaires #4)

O utside on his private balcony, it’s warm—sunlight spilling across the wood planks, the faint scent of the ocean drifting in from somewhere beyond the city.

The breeze is light enough to ruffle my hair but not enough to steal the heat from the day.

Puffy clouds drift lazily overhead, moving slower than my heart is beating.

Jaxon sits back in one of the chairs, lounging like he’s got all the time in the world, while I pace the length of the balcony like a caged animal. My stomach twists tighter every time I glance his way.

He’s watching me—waiting. His knee bounces like it’s trying to burn a hole through the floor.

“Jesus, Cassidy,” he says finally, voice edged with impatience. “You’re killing me.”

“I’m sorry…” My voice cracks, my eyes dart anywhere but him. “I’m just… nervous.”

I bite down on a nail without thinking, and that’s when he starts to rise out of the chair.

“No.” I hold my hand out quickly, stopping him. “I need you sitting.”

His brow furrows. “Christ.”

I suck in a breath. This is it. Now or never. My brain is screaming at me to just spit it out, but my body’s moving before I can think it through. I grab a cushion from the empty chair beside him and set it on the floor in front of him. His eyes narrow slightly, surprise flickering there.

Then I kneel.

My hands find his thighs, fingers splayed against the firm muscle, but I keep my eyes down. If I look at him too soon, I’ll lose my nerve.

His voice drops low, dark, and smooth enough to roll down my spine. “What are we doing, Cricket?”

A shiver races through me. My thumbs trace the seams of his jeans before sliding higher. I’m still staring at my hands, but every inch of me is hyperaware of him—his heat, his size, the weight of his focus pressing into me.

“It’s just…” My throat feels like it’s closing. “I’ve never…”

I swallow hard, forcing the rest out.

One of his large hands cups my jaw, tilting my face up until I’m trapped in the molten steel of his gaze. His thumb brushes over my lower lip, slow and deliberate. “Tell me.”

I lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closed for a second before I open them again. Deep breath.

“I’ve never seen a… penis,” I whisper, cheeks flaming, “like… up close.”

The grin that spreads over his face nearly melts my bones—and my panties.

I rush to clarify, words tumbling over themselves because we both know I’ve seen his—from across a room—with two women obstructing the view.

“I mean, you know I’ve seen… and I’ve watched porn before. On my phone. You know. But… not up close.”

He leans back, his grin turning wicked. Then he sinks lower in the chair, legs spreading wider. “You want to look at my cock, baby? Have at it.”

My breath catches.

He laces his fingers together and rests them behind his head like he’s settling in for a show and I simultaneously want to slap him and climb him like a tree.

But with a deep breath I reach for the button of his jeans, hands trembling. I glance up at him for one last second before flicking it open. The zipper slides down slow, the sound far too loud in the quiet between us.

He lifts his hips just enough to help me tug them down a few inches, and I see the unmistakable outline straining against the fabric of his boxers.

I can’t help it—I run my palm over him. Solid. Hot.

His breath escapes in a deep, satisfied sound—like my touch is something he’s been waiting for. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m finally giving it.

My fingers trace the outline again, slower this time, feeling every ridge and curve through the thin fabric. I glance up at him, but he’s watching me through half-lidded eyes, jaw tight, a muscle ticking there like he’s fighting to stay still.

I hook my fingers over the waistband of his boxers, hesitating just long enough to feel my pulse in my ears. Then I tug them down and his cock thumps on his stomach.

“Oh,”

He’s thick. Heavy. Hard in a way that makes my mouth go dry and my heart trip over itself. My fingers hover for a second, uncertain, before I wrap one hand around him.

God, he’s so hot—literally hot—in my palm. Smooth skin stretched over steel.

He exhales through his nose, slow but sharp, like he’s trying not to give me too much. That makes me bolder. I run my hand from the base to the tip, my thumb brushing over the bead of slick at the crown.

His breath catches, and it shoots straight through me, low and electric.

I try again, a little firmer this time, and his hips shift just barely toward my hand. A small, involuntary movement, but I feel it—and I like it. I grip him a little tighter, moving in a slow rhythm.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice deep and rough, eyes locked on mine now. “Just like that, Cricket.”

I lick my lips without thinking, my gaze flicking between my hand and his face. His head tips back just a little, the muscles in his neck going taut, and watching him fight for control does something to me.

My thumb circles over the head again, and his breath shudders. “Fuck…”

That word, from him, makes me squeeze just a little harder, experimenting. His hips shift again, like he can’t help it, and my stomach flips. I’m turning him on. I’m making him squirm.

And I don’t want to stop.

I keep my pace slow but deliberate, my other hand bracing against his thigh.

The more I touch him, the more I feel my own body heat rising, this strange ache blooming low in my belly.

It’s intoxicating—the weight of him in my hand, the way he’s letting me explore, the way every reaction feels like a reward.

“Look at you,” he says, voice low and dark, his eyes dragging over my face. “First time touching a cock and you’re already killing me.”

I don’t answer. I just tighten my grip a little, sliding my hand down again, watching the way his stomach muscles tighten.

And now I’m wondering what other sounds I can pull out of him.

I lick my lips again, heat crawling up my neck.

“Can I…”

“I don’t care what you do,” he says, voice low and rough, “as long as you get your mouth around my dick.”

A slow grin tugs at my lips. I slide closer, both hands wrapping around him, and he grips the armrest like it’s the only thing keeping him from losing it. His head dips back as I start stroking, twisting my wrists in opposite directions the way I’ve seen in videos.

“You’ll tell me what to do?” I ask, needing to hear it.

His hand threads along my jaw and into my hair, his fingers curling at the base of my skull. “Yeah, baby. I got you.”

The reassurance makes my stomach tighten. I lean forward, running my tongue along the underside of him, tasting salt and heat. I circle the head once, a second time, and he lets out this low groan that makes me want to hear it again.

“Swirl your tongue around the head,” he murmurs, voice almost breaking.

I do it, slow and deliberate, and his mouth drops open.

“Oh, god… baby, that’s perfect.”

The praise makes me bolder. I close my lips around him, taking him into my mouth inch by inch, feeling the weight and heat fill me. I pull back and go again, a little deeper this time.

“That’s it,” he breathes, his fingers tightening in my hair. “You’re a natural.”

I keep moving, slow at first, then finding a rhythm as he guides me gently. “Add your hand. Squeeze and slide it with your mouth.”

I follow his lead without hesitation, wrapping my fingers around the base and stroking in time with each pass of my lips. His hips shift just slightly, like he’s fighting to keep still, and I know he’s close.

“Slow down,” he warns, voice strained. “I’m not gonna last like this…”

But I like that—knowing I’m the reason he’s losing control. I go faster instead, sucking harder, taking him deeper until my throat flutters.

“Fuck—Cassidy,” he groans, swearing and praising in the same breath. “God, you’re so beautiful… messy for me like this… look at you.”

Both of his hands are in my hair now, holding it back so he can watch every second. His eyes are dark, locked on my mouth, and the way he looks at me makes my thighs press together.

“I’m gonna come,” he says, his voice almost pleading. “You wanna swallow it?”

I shake my head, not stopping.

“Okay, baby… keep your hand on me,” he says, his own hand sliding down to wrap over mine. “God. Almost, Cricket. Keep going.”

This is making me so wet. I didn’t think I would like it this much. Maybe it’s him though and I love unraveling him.

My spit is running down his shaft and I’m sucking faster, sliding my hand quicker and he looks like he’s about to combust.

“Oh, fuck me.” He’s panting, eyes never looking away from me. “Fuck, baby. Yes.”

I don’t mean to moan but I do because the way he sounds is making my pussy clinch.

“Ah, that’s it. Okay, watch baby.”

Together we stroke him, my mouth pulling back so I can take him all in.

“God damn Cassidy.”

His whole body goes tense, and then hot, thick spurts spill over our fingers. My eyes flick between his face—jaw clenched, mouth open, eyes half shut—and his cock as his release oozes down our hands.

He’s panting, cursing under his breath. I’m still curious.

Before I can second-guess it, I lean in and give him a slow lick.

“Fuck,” he groans, head tipping back like I just broke him.

I taste him—salty, warm—and it’s not bad at all. I like it. I lick again, slower this time, just to watch him shudder.

I let go of him and make a point to drag my tongue from the base all the way to the tip, my eyes never leaving his.

The way he looks at me—like I just became his entire religion—sets me on fire. I’m so close to asking him to fuck me. I want it… God, I want it.

But the words stop in my throat. My nerves choke them back.

I know he wants it too—he’s been holding back for me.

“Come on, beautiful,” he says softly.

He takes my hands and helps me stand. From the side table, he grabs a towel and hands it to me for my mouth and fingers. By the time I’ve wiped away the evidence, he’s already put himself away.

Then he’s in front of me, standing tall, taking my face in both hands and kissing me like I just gave him something priceless.

“That was fucking incredible,” he says against my lips.

“Really? It was… okay?”

“Better than okay. That was the best blow job of my life.”

My lips curve into a smile, and I let him kiss me again, welcoming the slow slide of his tongue in my mouth.

“You hungry?” he asks.

I nod, still smiling.

“I have an idea,” he says, that glint in his eyes that means trouble. “The chef left pizza dough. I have a pizza oven.”

I give him a cautious look. “Is that really safe?”

He laughs. “Yeah, this I can actually cook. It’s just ingredients… and it’s already on fire.”

I snort, and he wraps his arms around me. “So… pizza?”

“Pizza,” I agree.

“And Glee?”

My smile grows wider. “Glee.”

“And each time they sing,” he says, voice dropping wickedly low, “I get to eat your pussy.”

“Jaxon!” I smack his chest, but I’m laughing.

“You’ll have a tongue cramp before the first episode is over,” I tease.

“I’m fine with that,” he says, dead serious as he bends down and lifts me over his shoulder.

“Jaxon Kane!” I smack his ass and he smacks mine back.

“I can survive a tongue cramp as you sit that sweet cunt on my face a few times tonight.”