Page 35 of The Auction (The Black Ledger Billionaires #4)

I lean against the bathroom doorway, arms crossed, watching Cassidy in the shower.

Whoever decided on this clear-glass design deserves a medal. I’ve got an unobstructed view of all of her—wet skin, curves I can trace in my sleep, water streaming down her back.

She tips her head back under the spray, lathering her dark hair, and my eyes catch on the hickey I left on the side of her breast. It makes my chest tighten in a way I’m not used to.

I’ve never been happier in my life.

And then it hits me—loud and sharp in my brain, like a bell. I’m going to marry this woman.

No question. No hesitation. I’m going to put a ring on her finger and make her mine in every way. A smile pulls at my mouth as I think about picking it out. I’ve already got something else for her, sitting on the bed—a black gift box with a bow that I can’t wait to see her open.

My phone rings.

Jonathan.

That fucker is just now calling me back? I called him last week about the horse catastrophe and never got a response.

I answer. “Well, look who’s not dead after all.”

“Sorry, man. Things have been busy.”

“What do you need?”

“Have you seen Cass? I can’t reach her.”

Shit.

I’m going to tell him about me and Cass—but not like this. I need to talk to her first. Make sure she’s okay with it. So I play it off.

“I’m sure she’s just in her studio.”

“She needs to get out of there and do something useful.”

That makes my jaw flex. But I’m not starting shit with him right now—not before I’ve cleared it with her.

“What did you need, man? I’ve got something going on here.”

Right on cue, Cassidy notices me watching. Her lips curl into a slow smile as she starts lathering up her body, soap suds sliding over every perfect inch. My dick nearly springs out of my pants.

“Can you tell Cass I’m on my way back early? Tomorrow morning,” Jonathan says.

Inside the shower, one of her hands slides between her legs while the other pinches her breast. God, she’s a fucking siren.

“Earth to Jax,” Jonathan says, irritation creeping in.

“Yeah… sorry.”

“So, you’ll tell her?”

“Yeah, I can pass that message along.”

She turns and bends at the waist, giving me a perfect view of her ass. I nearly have to bite my knuckles to keep from groaning.

“Yeah, I’ll tell her—but I’ve gotta go.”

I hang up before he can answer, tossing my phone and the gift box onto the bed. Then I head straight for the shower.

If my little siren wants to play, I’ll be more than happy to give her a hand.

A fter I’ve made Cassidy fall apart twice in the shower—once with my hands, once with my mouth—I hand her a towel and tell her, “Get dressed. We’re going out. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Suspicion flickers in her eyes, but she wraps up and heads for the bedroom. The black gift box is waiting on the bed.

She lifts the lid, pulls out the contents, and stares. “Leather pants?”

“A very special pair of pants,” I say, walking over to her. I turn them in her hands so she sees the zipper that runs a lot longer than normal. All the way to the back so they’ll open up and let me see her sweet cunt and perfect ass.

Her jaw drops. “You’re not serious.”

“Dead serious.” I lean in, brushing my mouth against her ear. “We’re making one of my fantasies come true tonight. So get dressed. We’re going for a ride.”

Thirty minutes later, we’re on my bike, the city rolling by in a blur. She’s pressed tight against me, arms locked around my waist, helmet tucked against my back. I can feel her curiosity in the way she keeps shifting, probably dying to ask where we’re going.

When I finally make the turn and pull up to the taco truck—the same one from the night before the auction—she grabs my sides and I feel her wiggling back and forth like she’s doing a little happy dance back there. I laugh under my breath, cutting the engine.

She practically bounces off the bike the second I lower the kickstand, tugging off her helmet with a look that says she’s way too happy to see a food truck.

We order and sit at one of the rickety little tables off to the side, this time next to each other instead of across.

We can’t stop touching.

We hold hands. I rub her thigh. She wraps her arm around my elbow and rests her head on my bicep. When our food gets here, she rests her leg over mine.

I love it.

Fuck. I love her .

These past three weeks have been the best of my life—chaos, heat, laughter, and more than I ever thought I’d have.

I wipe a bit of salsa from the corner of her mouth and chase it with a quick peck on the lips.

“I’m glad I bought you, Cricket.”

Her fork stills. The smile she’d been wearing softens, just a touch. Those green eyes find mine, and for a second, there’s no teasing in them—just something darker, deeper.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, voice low. “Me too.”

That’s the answer I’ve been waiting for.

We toss our trash, climb back on the bike, and I feel her arms wrap around me like she never wants to let go.

The highway opens up in front of us, dark and endless.

I tap her leg twice—our silent signal—and she squeezes me tighter just before I gun it, pushing as fast as I dare with her holding on like I’m the only thing keeping her tethered.

When I ease off the throttle, she loosens her grip and spreads her arms out wide behind me, hair whipping in the wind.

“I love it here,” she calls over the roar of the bike. “I feel so free.”

I take the long way around the airport, pulling into a spot I know by muscle memory—where the planes fly low enough to rattle your chest, and I’ve spent more than a few nights filming myself tearing down this stretch.

I kill the engine. Cassidy swings off, but I stay put, watching her. Helmets come off. Mine hits the ground. She follows suit.

“Get your ass up here,” I tell her, patting the space in front of me.

She climbs on, straddling the bike, and fuck . Those leather pants hug her like they were painted on. In this position, her ass is flush against my lap, and she knows exactly what she’s doing when she arches and grabs the handlebars, glancing back over her shoulder.

My hands slide over her cheeks, giving them a firm squeeze. “Goddamn, baby.” I drag one palm up her spine, the other locking on her hip.

“Let me take a picture of that.”

She smirks, nodding, then glances at me over her shoulder as I snap the shot. It’s obscene how good she looks.

“I’ve got a surprise for you too,” she says, mischief curling in her voice.

Curious, I help her turn to face me. She scoots forward, settling on the gas tank, boots braced on my knees so her legs are wide open. My hands are halfway to that zipper when she reaches for her jacket.

And unzips it.

No shirt. No bra. Just bare, perfect tits staring me in the face.

“Holy shit,” I breathe.

It’s all I can say. She’s rendered me fucking speechless.

My hands come up automatically, cupping her. My thumbs brush over her nipples, and she tips her head back with a low moan. “It feels so good when you do that.”

I lean in, swirl my tongue around one tight peak, kissing and sucking until she’s arching into me.

“Let me take your picture like this,” I say, reaching for my phone.

She gives me a look that’s pure challenge.

“If you think I’d let anyone else see you like this, you’re fucking crazy.”

Her lips curve. “Well… I suppose.” She shifts, posing just enough to make my pulse spike.

Black leather pants. Black jacket. Dark hair tumbling loose. And then those tits—creamy, full, perfect—above a body that looks like sin itself. Her green eyes are locked on me like she’s already imagining me inside her.

She poses for me and I snap every one. Her hands braced on the tank pushing those full breasts together like a fucking invitation. Then biting her finger. Slipping the jacket down one shoulder, then both. Wrapping her arms around herself and perching those perfect tits on her forearms.

My cock leaks the whole time begging to slide between them and mark her with my cum.

I pinch her nipple and roll it between my finger and thumb, making her gasp. “You ready to test out these pants?”

She bites her lip and nods.

I find the zipper, and pull. The leather parts, revealing her slick, glistening pussy—and fuck , it’s even better than I imagined.

She rests her hands behind her, opening her legs wider.

“You want to take another picture, baby?” she teases.

“Fuck. Yes.” I snap a few more and groan when she slides her finger between her pussy lips and plays with herself, then sucks her arousal clean.

I can’t wait another second to get my hands on her—and my cock in her.

I grip her hips and pull her forward until her ass is right at the edge of the gas tank.

“Put your legs up here,” I tell her, tapping my shoulders.

Her eyes flare with heat, but she obeys—slow, deliberate—like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. Her boots hook over my shoulders, the leather creaking softly, and I can smell her now. Hot. Sweet. Already wet for me.

She wraps her fingers around the handlebars like I told her, chest rising and falling faster. “Jax…”

“Hold on tight, Cricket.”

I drag my palms up the backs of her thighs, spreading her wider until the zipper’s gaping open and I’ve got an unobstructed view of heaven. One long lick from base to clit and she’s already trembling. I hold her steady, tongue circling her clit before sucking it into my mouth.

Her head tips back with a gasp, the night air catching in her moan. “Oh, fuck?—”

“Eyes on me,” I order, looking up at her from between her legs.

Her gaze drops, locking with mine, and it’s like pouring gasoline on an open flame. I eat her like I’ve been starving, my tongue flicking, my mouth sealing over her until her hips start rocking against my face. She’s holding the bars like she’s riding me instead of my bike, knuckles white.

Every sound she makes goes straight to my cock. I grip her ass, pulling her closer so I can bury myself deeper between her thighs, tasting every drop.

“Jax… I’m?—”