Highest Bidder

by Le Carre, Georgia

  He grinned in response, slipping his hand around the back of my neck to pull me in for a quick kiss.

  I playfully pushed his face away in protest. “There’s food in my mouth.”

  “So?” he asked, and I just watched him.

  “Um isn’t that … um…Weird?”

  He looked away then and my eyes followed my plastic fork as I stabbed a shrimp leg. “Freya, an hour ago I had your pussy in my mouth. And I’ve eaten parts of you that you probably haven’t tasted yourself.”

  Oh. My. God. I stared at him. “The things you say.”

  He laughed and grabbed my ankle.

  I began to scream, “The food. The food. It’s all going to go on the bed! We can’t fuck on food!”

  “My bed is big enough for us and the food,” he said and tugged me hard. The paper plate fell out of my hands making an almighty mess, as I slid along the bed until he had maneuvered my body until my bare pussy was pressed tight against his hardening cock. It was a most pleasant position so I remained and subtly began to rock myself against him to return the torture.

  He held me tightly, his face in my neck. “I can’t believe you can still be this shy,” he teased. “Especially after our shower, when you said—”

  “Dhudndieiekmdgffodim,” I sputtered off indecipherable syllables. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “I doubt you even remember,” he said in a low sexy rumble.

  “Really?” I asked, slightly curious. “Did I curse at you?”

  “Worse,” he mocked.

  “What did I say?”

  He just smiled.

  My eyes narrowed. “Are you lying?”

  “I don't lie.”

  “So what did I say?”

  “I don’t want to tell you,” he said, and tried to push me off.

  I pushed him right back down by pressing my body down on him.

  “Now you’re just asking for trouble,” he warned.

  I brushed my hair over one shoulder and glanced back to hold his gaze. His hands began to rub the skin of my thighs and soon they were softly tracing the outline of my waist. All the hairs on my body rose to attention. “Tell me,” I coaxed, intensifying the pressure of my grind against the solid length of his cock.

  “Stop it,” he groaned, his forehead now leaning on my head, but I didn’t heed him. I slipped my hands into his briefs and grabbed his cock. At his sharp intake of breath, I pressed on. “Come on, tell me.” I moved back in his lap and positioned his now free cock between the folds of my sex. I teased the jutting head, using it to stroke my clit. I was going to chase my release then, there was no going back. Impaling myself onto that massive cock, I pushed against his chest until his back was down on the bed.

  “Ah,” I groaned, and how tightly my pussy received him. I felt complete, and he felt right at home within me. I began to rock my hips against him. Rapidly and then slowly at just the perfect tempo, to get me off.

  He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling, as my slick cunt rode him. I could have stayed in that state forever, with the sweetest sensations in the world coursing softly through my body. It was beyond description—a state of almost otherworldly bliss that I never wanted to be apart from. I wondered how I would ever be content again without this, without him.

  “What did I say?” I still managed to rasp out, wild with excitement. I rose till he was almost out of me and then slammed back down to his thighs. “I think I can fuck you better than you do me.”

  “You nearly passed out in the kitchen,” he reminded me.

  “Arggh,” I uttered as I slammed myself onto his cock.

  He gave me free rein and I rode him hard, taking his entire length all the way till I could almost feel it in my womb, but it wasn’t enough. I could see the green veins bulging across his forehead, and his eyes were clenched shut with pleasure. I loved that I could do this to him but I wanted more.

  I leaned forward. “Can you take over?”

  Brent grabbed my hips and began to control the rhythm of our mating. My sex pulsed and oozed liquid desire around him, my entire body quivered with my approaching release. “Brent, oh, Brent,” I cried, as we both began to tighten with the incoming release.

  He exploded before me. “Fuck!” he roared, striking his hand viciously against the headboard.

  It triggered my own orgasm. He reached forward to pull me into his arms, holding unto me tightly as I quaked all around him. Tears filled my eyes at the unending euphoria of our orgasm and I hid my face and whimpers in his neck.

  Never had I felt so raw, never had I felt so shaken, and definitely never—had I felt so warm and protected. I realized with a sinking heart, that I was falling in love with Brent Lucan.

  He held me tightly in his arms, as we both eventually collapsed and went to sleep, but despite my exhaustion slumber eluded me. I was sure he was asleep which is why when I spoke, I didn’t expect a response, “You never told me what I said earlier.”

  But it came, “You said … fuck for the first time,” he responded.

  I turned to gaze at his peacefully resting face. “What? Just that? What’s special about that?”

  “Nothing, and everything,” he replied, pulling me back into his arms. “I just wanted to tease you. I love teasing you.”

  I settled into his body and felt the delicately winged demons in my stomach start fluttering. I knew then that I was in trouble. Big trouble.

  Freya

  As I exited the Merrill Lynch office, it was already half an hour to midnight. Brent was right, Merrill Lynch really did work its interns to the bone. I felt exhausted and cranky, but the moment my phone began to ring, I quickly searched for it in my purse before the call disconnected. Brent was away on a three-day business trip to New York. He wanted me to go with him, but there was no way I could take time off work.

  Praying it was him, I looked at the caller ID and sighed when I saw that it wasn’t him. It was an unknown number, which I considered ignoring, but as I was about to take it, the caller disconnected it. “Fine,” I muttered, but then, as I was about to slip the phone into my pocket, it began to ring again.

  It was the same number, so I clicked accept. “Hello?”

  A man’s authoritative voice came through, “Freya Anderson.”

  “Yes, this is Freya. Who is this?”

  “I’m Henry Leighton, Brent’s father.”

  I instantly froze, unable to think or move.

  He went on, “There’s a black Mercedes right in front of your office building. Knock on the window so the chauffeur will pull it open for you. He’ll drive you to the Lucan estate. I need to speak with you.”

  I immediately wanted to decline, because it was so cloak and dagger and because I didn’t know if Brent would want me to go see his father without him, but he ended the call. I was left staring at the phone in confusion.

  Right before me on the sidewalk was indeed the black Mercedes he had mentioned, so I walked forward until I reached it. I considered calling Brent and telling him about this new development, but he was in another time zone, so I quickly sent him a text, and as instructed, I knocked on the window of the car and got in.

  About an hour later, I arrived in the Lucan Estate, and was shown into the grandiose study. As I looked around at the marble and luxurious wood finishing of the room, I wondered if the Duke was aware that I had been a guest in his estate several times in the past with my family. It was like going back in time, but the sensation of nostalgia wasn’t completely pleasant.

  Almost immediately, as though he had been awaiting me, he rolled into the study in a wheelchair. The moment he caught my gaze, he held it and did not look away until he positioned himself opposite me.

  A woman dressed in a black uniform, hands politely held together in front of her, came into the room and stood just inside the door.

  “Would you fancy a light refreshment, Miss Anderson?” he asked. “I understand that it has been a long day at work for you.” In so many ways, he felt similar to
Brent, in their confident mannerisms and intimidating presence.

  “Just a glass of water, please,” I responded quietly, as I tried to calm the pace of my heart down. I wanted to get this meeting over with as soon as I could. “Why did you request to see me?”

  He broke my gaze to readjust the blanket on his lap. “I hear you’re in a relationship with my son.”

  I did not know how to respond.

  “Am I wrong?” he asked, his piercing eyes focused on me again.

  “Brent and I are ... friends. We’ve been acquainted for quite a while.”

  “Oh really,” he asked. “How?”

  I didn’t want to mention my family, but then he knew my surname. There was no way that he wasn’t aware of perhaps even more than I was about my father, so I took a deep breath and responded in kind, “I used to come to this manor with my mother on invitation to certain soirées. One of those occasions, I became acquainted with him. That’s as far as our history goes.”

  “You stopped him from harming his brother, did you not?” he asked me.

  I instantly stilled. He was aware of everything.

  “Neither of them know that I am aware of what happened that afternoon. It was only reported to me by the security team as they caught it on the cameras. I got to know who you were from then. I apologize for your father’s passing.”

  That was it then, there was nothing left to hide.

  “Thank you,” I murmured. Perhaps this visit was to warn me away from his son, just like it seemed the whole world was bent on doing. I just wanted to go home to bed.

  “Could I ask you for a favor?” he said to me.

  “Sure, Sir, go ahead.” I waited with bated breath for what he would say.

  “You say that you and my son are friends, but I believe that your ties run deeper than that. Has he ever mentioned his family?”

  “No, Sir, he has not.”

  “I thought as much.” His smile was bitter. “Well, if there's anything I have learned in all of my years is that the cajoling power of one woman can be worth the force of ten thousand. Could you please try to re-open Brent’s heart towards his family?”

  About twenty minutes later, I was shown out of the study, and with more information about Brent that I would probably never have been able to extract from him. I kept stopping the Duke to tell him I had absolutely no power to influence Brent towards reconciling with his family, but he refused to believe me. I could not understand if it was just blind determination, or misguided hope.

  As I exited the study, a looming sense of calamity hung over me. Perhaps Brent would get wind of this and it would severely affect the relationship we had with each other. I was never more grateful that he was out of town. I was escorted by a butler, but I was engrossed in my thoughts I didn’t notice the man awaiting me at the end of the hall until I almost bumped into him.

  I lifted my head, startled and found myself staring into Liam Lucan’s eyes. Instinctively, I frowned and took a few steps backwards.

  “Wow,” he observed. “Surely, I can’t be that unsavory to you? Has Brent so thoroughly brainwashed you with his lies?”

  I had expected him to be at least courteous towards me, but he wanted war. I didn’t however want a verbal exchange with him, so I stepped to the side to walk away, but once again, he blocked my path.

  “I’m not done speaking to you,” he said.

  “Get out of my way, Liam,” I spat, and tried to move away again, but he shoved my shoulder to keep me in place and I staggered backwards. My eyes immediately darted over to the aged butler waiting by the corner who stared at the both of us in shock. When he caught my gaze however, he simply lowered his head meekly to the ground. His hands were held in front of him in the same pose as the woman who served me my glass of water.

  I’d had enough. “If you touch me one more time, Liam, I will make sure you regret it.”

  His laughter roared into the hallway. “How? If I may ask. Are you going to report me to Brent? You think because you’ve become his whore that you can now have anything you want?”

  The insult shot pain straight into my body, but nothing could compare to his following statement.

  “I cannot believe that after my warnings, you still ran into his arms. The arms of the very man that killed your own father. And you still have the audacity to carry yourself all high and lofty. You’re a whore … Nothing but a cheap, rotten excuse for a daughter and—”

  “Master Leighton," the butler suddenly called, panic in his voice.

  I thought he was referring to Liam, but when Liam’s face became tight with surprise, I turned around to see what he was staring at.

  Brent was walking towards us.

  I was shocked out of my mind. He was supposed to be in New York.

  “Freya, step away,” he commanded.

  I quickly did as I was told. It all happened so fast, but in one movement, Liam was retreating and in the next, he had been struck violently to the ground, blood pouring out of his nose.

  I was so shaken that I couldn’t move.

  Liam brought his hand to his nose at the pain, and cried out in fury.

  Brent had no mercy. He dove at him again and dragged him up to his feet. Blood was running down Liam’s throat into his collar. His voice was low and thick with rage but I still managed to hear what he said, “I warned you to stay away from her.”

  “I’m in my own fucking house!” Despite the blood, Liam laughed cruelly, his hand over his nose. “You have become completely possessed by this whore, haven’t you? Well, that’s no surprise. My mother did the same to your father. A mind-blowing fuck is beyond reason, isn’t it?”

  I could see Brent’s hand fisting by his side once again to throw him another punch, so I hurried over to stop him, but I was too late.

  Liam tried to defend himself, his arms flailing out wildly, but he was once again struck and sent crashing to the ground.

  “Stop, please stop!” the elderly butler cried from the distance in a creaky voice.

  I’d never seen Brent so furious before and for a moment, I felt as though he would fling me away to get to Liam, so I held onto his hand and pulled as hard as I could so he would turn his attention to me. “Brent,” I called, my eyes filled with tears, I understood now where their enmity originated from. “Please stop. I’m begging you.”

  “Why did you agree to come here?” he spat furiously. With a look that was so dark and cold that it froze me over, he turned and began to walk away.

  Liam yelled after him, battered and beaten, but still so bitterly amused, “What are you so afraid of?” he bellowed. “That she’ll be poisoned to death just like your mother was?”

  I stilled, and so did Brent, and when he turned around to gaze at Liam, I had never been so terrified.

  “You’ll be in the hospital before the end of the week,” Brent said to him. “Let me know how being poisoned to death feels like.”

  Freya

  “What’s wrong?” Maddie asked as she took her seat beside me in the mall.

  I turned to her. “Why do you think there’s something wrong?”

  Her response was to look away and scroll through her phone.

  I looked towards the ice cream cart where Ella was buying ice cream for all three of us.

  “Why didn’t you order rum and raisin?” she eventually asked. “It’s your favorite.”

  I blinked at the question. “I don’t understand. Why does that matter?”

  “You always pick that flavor. Today, you just told Ella to get you anything.”

  “Well ... that’s because I wasn’t even thinking of ice cream.”

  “Then what were you thinking of?” Her tone was surprisingly sharp.

  “Why do you sound as though I did something to offend you?”

  “Are you pregnant?” she blurted out.

  I almost choked. “What the hell? Why would you even think that?”

  She regarded me and eventually accepted that I wasn’t putting on an act to cove
r it up. “Fine,” she conceded.

  “Where did that come from?”

  “You haven’t noticed how exhausted you are these days? And how you’re constantly eating something? You always look as though your mind is a billion miles away. And now you won’t order ice cream with alcohol in it even though it is your favorite and you always have it.”

  “And so your conclusion is that I’m pregnant?”

  “Well, what else could it be?”

  “I’m not pregnant, okay?” I growled at her, turning my face away.

  “Okay then,” she said. “When the ice cream comes, you’ll take a bite out of my rum and raisin to prove it.”

  “Whatever.”

  She put her headphones on to her ears.

  I had a problem, but it wasn’t that I was pregnant.

  I turned to her. “I haven’t spoken to Brent in three days.”

  “And?” she asked. “Is that a big deal?”

  I couldn’t take it. We used to be so close and now she was always angry with me. I felt as if I wanted to cry.

  She turned to me. “Did you two fight?”

  “His father summoned me to their manor three days ago,” I said.

  Her mouth fell open. “The Duke himself?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I smell drama,” she said, and retrieved a bag of skittles from her purse. She tore it open and began to munch on it. “What happened? Did he warn you off his son, or something?”

  I sighed at her and focused my gaze on nothing as I thought back to that night.

  “Come on you have to talk. You can’t start and then stop. Is that how you and Brent got into a fight? What happened?”

  “He was furious that I had accepted the call and gone over to the manor, so when I tried to stop him from hitting his brother, he flung my hand away and stalked off. Since then, I haven’t heard from him.”

  “I don’t follow,” she said.

  I wanted so badly to share what his father had told me about the enmity between them but I hesitated since it was intimate details about Brent’s family matters. I focused on what was really bothering me. “He was meant to be in New York for three days, but I suddenly saw him in the house.”