Auctioned to Him_Her Addiction

by Charlotte Byrd

  Aiden moans in pleasure and I moan along with him. I’ve never felt so full before, so full of pleasure.

  “Oh, Aiden, I’m going to come,” I whisper.

  “No, you’re not.” He slows down his movements and I immediately regret bringing it up.

  “No, don’t stop,” I say. “Don’t ever stop.”

  “That’s a good girl,” he says and presses the butt plug deeper within me. At this point, my pleasure mixes with pain and I scream out. It goes so deep within me that it feels like every part of me is blocked, but in a delicious and very sexy way.

  He pulls his hands away from my ass and toward my face. I continue to lick him, pushing him further and further down my throat. Slowly, he unties my hands and lets the scarf fall to the floor. Then he pulls away from me.

  “Stay there,” he instructs. I stay put as he walks over to the bed and lies down on his back with his hands behind his back.

  “Okay, come over. Slowly. On your knees.”

  My heart skips a beat. I love how commanding he is; the control that I’m giving him. I also love how stimulated I feel despite the fact that he is across the room.

  Slowly, I get down on my knees and come over to him on all fours. The plug in my butt moves along with each movement, and I feel like I’m going to come a few times on my way over.

  Once I’m close enough, he pulls me up to my feet and on top of him. Slowly, he pushes himself deep inside of me and I moan in pleasure.

  “Okay, come for me,” he whispers. I press my lips onto his and lose myself completely. The orgasm rolls through me like a crashing wave. It builds and swells and spreads through me in a warm, overwhelming pulsation of pleasure.

  Aiden threads his fingers in between mine as he comes as well. He pushes deeper and deeper in me until every part of me is filled with him. I moan and shift my body to accommodate the surges and rushes of his penis.

  Aiden’s loud breathing produces gusts along my throat and neck. I’ve lost all feeling in my legs, but I still manage to wrap them firmer around his hips. I want him even deeper inside of me.

  “You’re mine, you’re all mine,” Aiden moans, tossing his hair back.

  Our hands are linked together and our bodies become one. He tilts my mouth more toward his and kisses me hard and powerfully. He continues to glide in and out of me, but the tempo is slower now, less intense. With each movement, he stimulates the plug that’s clenched in between my butt cheeks, and I start to feel another wave of orgasm start to build within me. I feel every rock-hard inch of him, and it feels like every inch of me belongs to him. I pull away to get some air, but he quickly pulls me in closer. His hands run all over my body and push my exposed breasts into his mouth as I thrash helplessly beneath him.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Aiden says over and over. “You are my goddess.”

  I want to respond, but all I can manage is a moan in return.

  When I finally do find the right words, “don’t stop,” is all I manage. We continue our delicate dance for some time and I feel him grow harder inside of me.

  “How are you still doing this?” I whisper into his ear.

  “Because you’re so hot,” he moans. His pace quickens and he runs his fingers down the small of my back and toward my ass. Then I feel him press on the plug.

  “Oh my God,” I moan from pleasure as he moves it around a little more, sending me to the heights of ecstasy. He is gentle but firm and steady and I can’t handle it anymore.

  “Aiden!” I cry out as a wave of pleasure cascades through my body. This time after the waves surge through me, my whole body goes numb and I collapse on top of him right there and then. I’m completely empty. Replete. Nothing else exists in the world except our sweaty bodies on this bed right here.

  “I love you,” Aiden whispers.

  I think I say it back to him, but I don’t really know.

  “I want you to be mine,” he says, pushing my hair out of my face and giving me a slight peck on my neck.

  “I am yours,” I manage, inhaling deeply.

  “Forever.”

  I smile and close my eyes.

  Chapter 17 - Ellie

  Afterward…

  I fall asleep again, completely spent after the intensity of our lovemaking. But I don’t sleep for long. When I wake up, I glance at the clock. It has only been half an hour. I guess it was just a quick power nap. When I turn around, Aiden looks up at me from his phone and smiles.

  “I love you,” he whispers.

  “I love you, too.”

  “What’s new?” I ask, propping my head up with my hand. He shakes his head and runs his fingers over the outline of my face.

  “Nothing.” He shakes his head. “Nothing important at all.”

  We both know that he’s lying, of course. Whatever emails he’s getting now do not come with any good news. But I don’t really want to talk or hear about it now. And he’s clearly not in the mood for sharing either. Not yet. Not after the glorious thing that we have just gone through.

  “Thank you,” I say after a moment.

  “For what?”

  “For what you just did. For this whole night. It was amazing.”

  “You liked it?”

  “I loved it,” I say, nodding. “I’ve never done anything like that before and…it was so incredible.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “How did you know that I would like it?”

  “I didn’t. But I’ve seen how you responded to that kind of stimulation before…so, I thought I would give it a try.”

  I smile, sitting up. My lips are chapped and my throat is parched. There’s a bottle of water on the end table and I open it, gulping all of it down.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, did you want any?” I ask when it’s already too late.

  “No.” Aiden laughs. “I have my own.”

  We sit on the bed in silence for a while. It occurs to me just how much I love being with Aiden. Just being with him. We don’t have to talk or fill the silence with endless chatter. No, I just need him to be present.

  Suddenly, Aiden hops out of bed and goes to his suitcase at the far end of the room. He’s nude and I admire the way his muscles tense and clench as he glides through space.

  “You are very sexy,” I say. “Have I ever told you that?”

  “Maybe once or twice,” he says without turning around. “Okay, close your eyes.”

  “What?”

  “Close your eyes. I have a surprise for you.”

  “If this is more sex, then I have to tell you, I need a break.”

  “Just close your eyes, woman,” Aiden says. Against my better judgment, I do as I’m told. Perhaps, there is some way he could get me into the mood again, but it would take a lot. And I’m already quite sore.

  “Ellie,” he says, taking my hand. I open my eyes and see him kneeling before me in all of his glory. He is on one knee. The faint light, the softness of candlelight, bathes his body and makes him look even more delicious and beautiful than I ever thought possible.

  “Yes,” I say, pulling the sheet around my chest. Despite how gorgeous he looks, the serious expression on his face gives me some concern. What’s going on? What is he doing?

  “Ellie, I have loved you since the first time I saw you. And ever since that moment, my love for you has just gotten deeper and deeper.”

  “I love you, too,” I whisper.

  “Whenever you’re not around, all I can do is think about you. I crave you. I have to have you. I need you. You make me want to be a better man, Ellie.”

  Aiden pulls his right hand from behind his back and opens his palm. Tears well up in my eyes.

  “What is this?” I whisper as I wipe them away and touch the outside of the little black velvet box in his hand.

  “Ellie Rhodes,” Aiden says, taking a deep breath. He lets go of my hand and puts it on top of the box. “My dearest, Ellie Rhodes. Will you marry me?”

  I look at the ring inside the box. All I can make out through my t
ears is the band that’s covered in a million tiny glittering crystals and the big yellow rock in the middle.

  Aiden leans over to me and wipes my tears. When I look up at him, more tears stream down. All of my emotions are beyond my control at this point. This is the last thing I’ve expected him to ask me, and yet here we are.

  “Will you marry me?” Aiden asks.

  Before I can even think about it, my body responds for me.

  “Yes, yes!” I exclaim and throw my arms around his neck. “I will marry you, Aiden Black.”

  * * *

  The End for Now

  The story continues in Auctioned to Him 6

  BONUS: Auctioned To Him Book 1

  It was just supposed to be a luxurious yacht party. Until Ellie discovered that all the female guests were going to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. If you don't want to play, you can’t stay. But if you stay, you're in for a night of whatever he wants and you get to keep all the money. Ellie’s friend thinks she’s crazy. But she owes $150,000 in school loans. Plus, the guys are hot and very rich. What can go wrong?

  Mr. Black wanted to own her from the minute he saw her. He paid good money and has the paper to prove it. The contract is unbreakable. She has to do everything he wants tonight. But he doesn’t want just sex. Oh no…he wants more.

  Tonight, there are no rules.

  WARNING: This is a HOT, modern day, dark erotic romance with an alpha billionaire for fans of EL James, Pepper Winters, and Alexa Riley. It contains light bondage, NO CHEATING, and a HEA.

  Chapter 1

  When the invitation arrives…

  “Here it is! Here it is!” my roommate Caroline yells at the top of her lungs as she runs into my room. We were friends all through Yale and we moved to New York together after graduation. Even though I’ve known Caroline for what feels like a million years, I am still shocked by the exuberance of her voice. It’s quite loud given the smallness of her body.

  Caroline is one of those super skinny girls who can eat pretty much anything without gaining a pound. Unfortunately, I am not that talented. In fact, my body seems to have the opposite gift. I can eat nothing but vegetables for a week straight, eat one slice of pizza, and gain a pound.

  “What is it?” I ask, forcing myself to sit up. It’s noon and I’m still in bed. My mother thinks I’m depressed and wants me to see her shrink. She might be right, but I can’t fathom the strength.

  “The invitation!” Caroline says jumping in bed next to me. I stare at her blankly. And then suddenly it hits me. This must be the invitation.

  “You mean…it’s…”

  “Yes!” she screams and hugs me with excitement.

  “Oh my God!” She gasps for air and pulls away from me almost as quickly.

  “Hey, you know I didn’t brush my teeth yet,” I say turning my face away from hers.

  “Well, what are you waiting for? Go brush them,” she instructs.

  Begrudgingly, I make my way to the bathroom.

  We have been waiting for this invitation for some time now. And by we, I mean Caroline. I’ve just been playing along, pretending to care, not really expecting it to show up. Without being able to contain her excitement, Caroline bursts through the door when my mouth is still full of toothpaste. She’s jumping up and down, holding a box in her hand.

  “Wait, what’s that?” I mumble and wash my mouth out with water.

  “This is it!” Caroline screeches and pulls me into the living room before I have a chance to wipe my mouth with a towel.

  “But it’s a box,” I say staring at her.

  “Okay, okay,” Caroline takes a couple of deep yoga breaths, exhaling loudly. She puts the box carefully on our dining room table. There’s no address on it. It looks something like a fancy gift box with a big monogrammed C in the middle. Is the C for Caroline?

  “Is this how it came? There’s no address on it?” I ask.

  “It was hand-delivered,” Caroline whispers. I hold my breath as she carefully removes the top part, revealing the satin and silk covered wood box inside. The top of it is gold plated with whimsical twirls all around the edges, and the mirrored area is engraved with her full name, Caroline Elizabeth Kennedy Spruce. Underneath her name is a date, one week in the future. 8 PM.

  We stare at it for a few moments until Caroline reaches for the elegant knob to open the box. Inside, Caroline finds a custom monogram made of foil in gold on silk emblazoned on the inside of the flap cover. There’s also a folio covered in silk. Caroline carefully opens the folio and finds another foil monogram and the invitation. The inside invitation is one layer, shimmer white, with gold writing.

  “Is this for real? How many layers of invitation are there?” I ask. But the presentation is definitely doing its job. We are both duly impressed.

  “There’s another knob,” I say, pointing to the knob in front of the box. I’m not sure how we had missed it before.

  Caroline carefully pulls on this knob, revealing a drawer that holds the inserts (a card with directions and a response card).

  “Oh my God, I can’t go to this alone,” Caroline mumbles, turning to me. I stare blankly at her. Getting invited to this party has been her dream ever since she found out about it from someone in the Cicada 17, a super-secret society at Yale.

  “Look, here, it says that I can bring a friend,” she yells out even though I’m standing right next to her.

  “It probably says a date. A plus one?” I say.

  “No, a friend. Girl preferred,” Caroline reads off the invitation card. That part of the invitation is in very small ink, as if someone made the person stick it on, without their express permission.

  “I don’t want to crash,” I say. Frankly, I don’t really want to go. These kind of upper-class events always make me feel a little bit uncomfortable.

  “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be at work?” I ask.

  “Eh, I took a day off,” Caroline says waving her arm. “I knew that the invitation would come today and I just couldn’t deal with work. You know how it is.”

  I nod. Sort of. Caroline and I seem like we come from the same world. We both graduated from private school, we both went to Yale, and our parents belong to the same exclusive country club in Greenwich, Connecticut. But we’re not really that alike.

  Caroline’s family has had money for many generations going back to the railroads. My parents were an average middle class family from Connecticut. They were both teachers and our idea of summering was renting a 1-bedroom bungalow near Clearwater, FL for a week.

  But then my parents got divorced when I was 8, and my mother started tutoring kids to make extra money. The pay was the best in Greenwich, where parents paid more than $100 an hour. And that’s how she met, Mitch Willoughby, my stepfather. He was a widower with a five-year old daughter who was not doing well after her mom’s untimely death. Even though Mom didn’t usually tutor anyone younger than 12, she agreed to take a meeting with Mitch and his daughter because $200 an hour was too much to turn down. Three months later, they were in love and six months later, he asked her to marry him on top of the Eiffel Tower. They got married, when I was 11, in a huge 450-person ceremony in Nantucket.

  So even though Caroline and I run in the same circles, we’re not really from the same circle. It has nothing to do with her, she’s totally accepting, it’s me. I don’t always feel like I belong.

  Caroline majored in art-history at Yale, and she now works at an exclusive contemporary art gallery in Soho. It’s chic and tiny, featuring only 3 pieces of art at a time. Ash, the owner - I’m not sure if that’s her first or last name - mainly keeps the space as a showcase. What the gallery really specializes in is going to wealthy people’s homes and choosing their art for them. They’re basically interior designers, but only for art. None of the pieces sell for anything less than $200 grand, but Caroline’s take home salary is about $21,000. Clearly, not enough to pay for our 2 bedroom apartment in Chelsea. Her parents cover her part of the rent and pay all of
her other expenses. Mine do too, of course. Well, Mitch does. I only make about $27,000 at my writer’s assistant job and that’s obviously not covering my half of our $6,000 per month apartment.

  So, what’s the difference between me and Caroline? I guess the only difference is that I feel bad about taking the money. I have a $150,000 school loan from Yale that I don't want Mitch to pay for. It’s my loan and I’m going to pay for it myself, dammit. Plus, unlike Caroline, I know that real people don’t really live like this. Real people like my dad, who is being pressured to sell the house for more than a million dollars that he and my mom bought back in the late 80’s (the neighborhood has gone up in price and teachers now have to make way for tech entrepreneurs and real estate moguls).

  “How can you just not go to work like that? Didn’t you use all of your sick days flying to Costa Rica last month?” I ask.

  “Eh, who cares? Ash totally understands. Besides, she totally owes me. If it weren’t for me, she would’ve never closed that geek millionaire who had the hots for me and ended up buying close to a million dollars’ worth of art for his new mansion.”

  Caroline does have a way with men. She’s fun and outgoing and perky. The trick, she once told me, is to figure out exactly what the guy wants to hear. Because a geek millionaire, as she calls anyone who has made money in tech, does not want to hear the same thing that a football player wants to hear. And neither of them want to hear what a trust fund playboy wants to hear. But Caroline isn’t a gold digger. Not at all. Her family owns half the East Coast. And when it comes to men, she just likes to have fun.

  I look at the time. It’s my day off, but that doesn’t mean that I want to spend it in bed in my pajamas, listening to Caroline obsessing over what she’s going to wear. No, today, is my day to actually get some writing done. I’m going to Starbucks, getting a table in the back, near the bathroom, and am actually going to finish this short story that I’ve been working on for a month. Or maybe start a new one.