Auctioned to the Spanish Dom [The Spectrum Auctions 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More)

by Doris O'Connor

  “The cooking, well, I had a number of jobs before I fell into selling houses. One of them was working in a busy kitchen under a rather strict chef, so I picked up a few things. Besides, a man has got to eat. Takeout gets boring after a while, as does eating out.”

  Peyton nodded, and he smiled.

  “Tell me about it. My cooking skills, however, are abysmal, so my sister takes pity on me and invites me round for Sunday lunch on a regular basis. She calls it payment for babysitting duties, but really, I know she just worries over me and tries to fatten me up.”

  Pedro smiled at her and leaned back in his chair.

  “So, you have a sister and a nephew, niece?”

  Peyton laughed.

  “Oh more than one. Alicia has a houseful. She married young and has popped out a kid every two years without fail. She’s the good Catholic girl, you see, according to my mother anyway. She’s in a nursing home now, too frail to live on her own after a recent stroke, but she’s still as ironfisted as ever. Alicia was always her favorite. I, on the other hand, choose to go to Uni, and work for a living, rather than finding a husband. It will never do, you know.”

  Pedro raised an eyebrow at that, and she rushed on.

  “Well, you know how it is, or maybe you don’t.” A shadow crossed his features, and when he didn’t reply, she took another sip of her wine and fell silent.

  “So you majored in…?” Pedro asked.

  “Journalism, for my sins.” Peyton glanced at him and he smiled. “I was always nosy, so that seemed the obvious choice. And contrary to our reputation, we’re not all sharks. Like not all estate agents look like you, I dare say.”

  Pedro laughed out loud at that, and murmured something in Spanish she didn’t catch.

  “Are you invited for Sunday lunch tomorrow, at this oh so good girl sister of yours?” he asked, and Peyton shook her head.

  “No, they have a big church fete to attend tomorrow. I’ve been invited, of course, but Mum will be there, and no doubt an array of suitable husbands-to-be. Alicia seems to have taken over Mum’s penchant for finding me a husband.” Peyton grimaced. “You know. The whole you’re sliding down the wrong side of twenty-five, now, Sis, and you really ought to think about settling down, routine. Jeez, I tell you. She is populating the world entirely by herself. It doesn’t need my contribution to the gene pool.”

  “I see. Not met the right man, or don’t want kids ever?” Pedro asked. Again there was that curious undertone in his voice that told her to tread carefully.

  “Oh, I like kids. I’m just not in any hurry to have them yet. I’m twenty-eight, not forty for flip’s sake.”

  He flinched at that and poured them both some more wine, and Peyton’s sense of unease grew.

  “Not that there is anything wrong with being forty, of course.”

  Pedro threw her a glance and shook his head.

  “Of course not, but it sure can make a man feel old,” he said, and Peyton wanted the ground to swallow her up.

  “Err, Sir, it wasn’t…I mean your birthday…”

  “Don’t worry about it, Peyton. Yes, I turned forty yesterday. It’s no big deal really, other than the fact that you might want to rethink your association with me. You clearly thought I was younger.”

  “No, I didn’t think that. I mean…. Oh shit.” Peyton knew her cheeks were flaming as she just dug that hole she made for herself deeper and deeper.

  “Oh, so now I look old too?” Pedro asked, but there was a teasing quality to his voice this time, and that mischievous twinkle in his eyes. God, she loved that side of him.

  Her heart squeezed in shock at that thought. Loved? No, she wasn’t signing up for that. She shoved that errant thought firmly back in its box and slammed the lid shut. Something of her thought processes must have shown on her face, however, because Pedro stiffened. Instead of saying anything else, he got up and busied himself with the record player. Good old Frankie had stopped playing some time ago, and Pedro flicked through his vinyl collection with another frown on his face.

  “You don’t have to change the music on my account, Sir. I rather like Sinatra. In fact, I like that whole era. I always had a thing for the classics.” He flicked her a glance, and she grinned. “Guess that’s why I like my men older too.”

  One eyebrow shot in the air in response, and then a soulful instrumental jazz number filled the air. Pedro turned his back on her and stared at the wall and that one sole personal picture. A heavy silence fell between them, until Peyton couldn’t stand it anymore. She stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around him from behind.

  “Your family?” she asked, and she felt him nod, rather than see it.

  “It’s a long and boring story, pequeña.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Sir.”

  He turned round in her embrace and framing her face in his large hands, studied her with such heated intensity her heart turned into a jackhammer.

  “You say that now, but you might change your mind after you hear what I have to say.”

  Chapter Nine

  A man could fucking lose himself in those expressive eyes staring up at him. He didn’t read one iota of malice in Peyton’s expression. She didn’t probe, didn’t ask the questions she was without doubt burning to ask. No, she just waited patiently for him to tell her. He had the most curious sensation crawl up the back of his neck, the instinctive knowledge that she would also accept it if he didn’t tell her. A novel experience, for sure. Any woman he’d ever been involved with, even on a casual basis, had eventually been full of questions.

  Another reason why he kept his encounters these days confined to the club, and the purely sexual. Life was simpler, if rather lonely that way.

  “If you’d rather not tell me, that’s okay. I realize we barely know each other, and this is clearly personal, and I sense perhaps painful, so let’s just forget it.”

  She stepped away from him, and he had to smile at the nervous way she pulled on the misshapen neckline of the shirt she wore.

  “I’m just gonna clear this table away.” She mumbled the words into the curtain of her hair and started to stack the plates together.

  “You were right, you know,” he said, and she froze, empty wineglass in one hand, two stacked plates in the other. “Put those down, pequeña, and let’s take this in the living room.”

  He didn’t check to see if she followed. All he knew was that he needed to sit down, and he flung himself into the wide, comfortable leather settee and shut his eyes. Big enough for him to sleep on, if need be, it had seen him do so far too many times lately when he’d stayed up late, watching old movies in an effort to dispel the thoughts churning in his head.

  The sofa dipped slightly when Peyton sat down next to him, and then depressed again. He opened his eyes to find her throwing a cushion on the floor. Peyton knelt on it, wrapped her arms around his legs, and rested her chin on his knee.

  His dick stiffened automatically at seeing his beautiful sub on her knees by his feet, and the churning in his gut subsided somewhat.

  “Very nice, Peyton, but we’re not in a scene right now, so this is not necessary,” he said. Instead of getting up, she tightened her hold on his legs, and nuzzled into his thigh.

  “Yes, it is. Indulge me, please, Sir. Besides, I like the way you look at me when I do this.” A faint blush crept in her cheeks, but she held his glance, and he smiled.

  “And how do I look at you?” he asked.

  That blush of hers deepened, and he straightened slightly so that he could wrap his hand into her hair. A tremble went through her, and the dominant in him lapped up her submission. She was right in one way. Telling her about his fucked-up life so far would be easier when he was in this headspace. The memories hurt less then.

  “As though you like what you see, and…” She dropped her gaze and seemed to find his bare feet most interesting. Pedro increased the pull on her hair and tugged her head back up so that she had no choice but to look up at him.

  “Te
ll me.” He dropped his voice and her mouth opened slightly. Eyes wide, and lips trembling, it was the utter trust and submission he read in her beautiful orbs that made that curious sensation at the back of his neck turn into an allover itch. His chest tightened and a rush of pure possessiveness swamped him. This delightful young woman sat at his feet was his, and his alone. Peyton’s nails curled into his legs, and she blinked several times before she answered him.

  “It just feels right, Sir. I can’t explain it, and it makes no sense. I just feel it in here.” She brought a hand up to her chest, and he nodded. “I guess I just feel free, which makes no sense at all.”

  Pedro released his hold on the silky mass of her hair and petted her head.

  “No, it makes perfect sense, pequeña. You’re embracing your submissive side, and that makes me feel very proud of you.”

  Her face lit up in a brilliant smile, and he was hard pushed not to just sit there and grin back at her like a besotted fool, but there was no denying the connection they had established in a very short space of time. Pedro had scoffed at Slade and Laura when it had happened to them, though at least they had known each other for years beforehand. Scarlett, too, had been at the butt off his jokes, though, again the whole danger she had been in tended to accelerate and clarify feelings. What was his excuse, however?

  Turning forty far from home, and without any of his family acknowledging that fact, shouldn’t prove that much of trauma, should it? After all, he was used to it. Then again, Pedro had been unsatisfied with his lot in life for some time. Seeing his friends settled had just crystallized those feeling for him.

  He sighed and Peyton’s face fell.

  “Sir? What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Pedro forced a smile on his face and shoved those irritating self-analytic thoughts out of his mind. They had no place here, right now.

  “You asked me about the shirt, pequeña.” She nodded and he let his gaze roam over her curves, only in his mind’s eye he didn’t see her. He was back in his hometown on a muddy football pitch, and this very shirt was on Cisco da Santiago’s back. Captain of the opposing team, the effeminate-looking Cisco had proven to be a tough opponent, and Pedro’s team had lost the first match that season.

  “The shirt isn’t mine, you know.” Her eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything, and he tapped her lightly on the nose. “It belonged to someone I loved very much.”

  Again she blinked and her hold on his legs tightened. She looked down on the jersey and grinned.

  “Well, I don’t think much of her dress sense.”

  Pedro knew his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  “The owner of that shirt wasn’t a woman, Peyton.”

  Her mouth fell open in a silent ‘O,’ and she hastily shut it again, when she seemed to realize.

  “I see. Is this where you’re telling me that you’re gay?” she asked, and he shook his head. “Bi then?”

  Again Pedro shook his head at her confused expression.

  “I prefer not to put a label on my sexuality, Peyton. Have I been with other men since Cisco? Yes, in a purely sexual sense at least, but I think we both know that I enjoy women. I have no time for labels. They cause nothing but trouble. They certainly did then.”

  He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice and Peyton nuzzled into his leg again.

  “What happened?” she asked. “With Cisco and you, I mean.”

  He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

  “Apart from us falling in love and discovering kink together, you mean?” She nodded, and he stared into space.

  “The usual fuck up, when you’re part of a strict Catholic family.”

  “Shit,” she mumbled and he gave a short laugh. “Did your parents go apeshit?”

  Pedro sighed and shook his head.

  “My mama, God rest her soul, died five years before I met Cisco. She had cancer. The whole thing was pretty awful to be honest.” Her soft gasp soothed some of that ball of misery that the mere mention of his mother always caused.

  “I’m so sorry, Pedro. How old were you, when she died?”

  He smiled at the use of his name, and the way she hugged his legs tighter.

  “I was twelve. One minute she was worried about a lump she’d found, the next she was dead, or so it seemed at the time. Papa lost his way for a bit, and it fell to me to hold us all together. José was only six. He just didn’t understand why Mama had to go.”

  “Your brother?” Peyton asked and Pedro looked back at her. Tears clung to her eyelashes, and he patted his lap. Instantly, she scrambled up to sit on it, and he buried his head in her hair, while her arms went round his middle.

  “It’s okay, you know. This all happened a long time ago.”

  Peyton sat up and positively glared at him.

  “No, it’s not okay. I lost my daddy years ago, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still miss him. You can’t forget the people you’ve loved and lost so easily, and neither should you. Big Domly type or not, you’re allowed your feelings.”

  “Big Domly type?” Pedro asked and laughed. “That’s what I am?”

  Peyton squirmed on his lap, and he wrapped his hand back in her hair. The action seemed to ground her as much as it did him. It felt fucking good to have her sat on his lap like that.

  “Yes, well, I mean no offense by that, Sir. It’s just…” she worried her bottom lip in her teeth, and instantly stopped when he shook his head at her.

  “It’s just what?” he asked.

  “You can be pretty scary when you’re in full Dom mode, that’s all. At least you terrified me before…erm, well, before us, I guess.”

  “Good to know I still have it in me to scare little subbies.”

  “Oh, believe me, you do.”

  Pedro laughed and Peyton slapped a hand on her mouth as though she had said too much. She fiddled with the ties of his jog pants and his cock reared up at the slight touch, as though it had a mind of its own. Pedro had to concede that it did, around her anyway. He grasped her wrists in one hand, and adjusted himself with the other.

  “Anyway,” he said. “Fast forward a few years. I was the captain on my school football team. Cisco was on the rival school’s team. He beat the pants off me, wearing that shirt.” He fingered the hem of the shirt she wore, and Peyton giggled.

  “He literally did, huh?”

  When he looked at her, her giggles increased, until his lips twitched too. The easy way in which she accepted his story made the burden Pedro carried around with himself a hell of a lot lighter.

  “Well, not at first, pequeñita. I was a good Catholic boy, don’t you know.”

  Peyton’s giggles got even louder, and he was sure he heard a coughed, “Yeah, riiiiight.”

  He winked at her and slapped her thigh. The action left his handprint visible on her pale skin, and she sobered instantly.

  “Better, enough of this laughing at your Dom’s expense,” he said and she ducked her head.

  “Sorry, Sir.”

  “You’re forgiven, minx. Now, do you want to hear this story or not?”

  “Yes, of course I do, Sir. I’ll behave. I promise.”

  Pedro doubted that very much, but then that was half the fun of knowing Peyton. To know she was comfortable enough around him now to continue their previous verbal sparring matches without the nasty undertones they’d had prior to the auction was a good feeling.

  “Cisco and I skirted around the issue for a long time. We started off as mates, as you do. Even pulled a few girls together, and shared them.” Her sharp intake of breath gave him pause for thought. Was that shock or interest? He tilted her head up to better see her expression, and judging by the slight blush on her features and the way her breathing sped up, it was definitively interest. Pedro filed that nugget of information away, and ignored the churning in his gut. He’d shared plenty of subs before, so if this was one of her fantasies, he should have no problems giving her that, shouldn’t he?

  “Anyway, one of thos
e girls was heavily involved in kink. She took us to a play party, and well, things changed between us. When papa found out, he hit the roof. Not only was I involved with a man, I also partook in perverted activities.” He mimed quotation marks, and rolled his eyes. “He wasn’t in the least bit interested in my point of view, or the fact that I was actually happy for the first time since Mama died. No son of his was to act in such a disgusting manner.”

  Peyton snuggled back into him and gave him a hug in the process. One he returned, for once at peace with telling this story. Not that he had told it often. Slade knew and Scarlett, and Jonas had wriggled it out of him during one drunken fest of orgy-like proportions, at the younger Dom’s last birthday.

  “I take it this doesn’t have a happy ending?” Peyton asked, and Pedro shook his head.

  “Papa set me an ultimatum. Let go of these unhealthy tendencies of mine, or he would disown me.”

  Peyton drew in a sharp breath and sat up straighter. He could almost feel the outrage pouring off of her on his behalf.

  “What did you do?”

  Pedro ran his fingers through her silken hair and sighed.

  “I was young, hotheaded, and in love. What do you think I did?”

  “Oh, Pedro.”

  “Si, I know. Cisco did try to stop me. He said he didn’t mind being my dirty little secret, so to speak, but idealistic fool that I was, that wasn’t good enough for me. I wanted my father to admit that he was wrong, and I guess, deep down, I foolishly hoped that he loved me enough to accept me for who I was.”

  Peyton reached up to run her fingers along his jaw and smoothed the frown between his eyebrows.

  “I’m sure he did love you, in his own way,” she said.

  Pedro pulled her hand away and kissed it.

  “Maybe, but if he did…does, he has a funny way of showing it. He threw me out of the house, forbade all contact with José, and I haven’t talked to them since.”

  “Not at all? To either of them? Surely not.” Peyton’s voice had risen to a shrill squeak, and he winced.