Boy Toy Auction

by C. A. Harms

  “I would go for Terry.”

  “Why’s that?” I hit the speaker and set the phone on my dresser as I pull my t-shirt over my head.

  “I talked to Frank for a few minutes last night and let me just assure you that his night was quite eventful.” There is a silent pause before Spencer takes it upon himself to give me the nastiest break down possible. “You remember the lady that won him?”

  “Yes.” She was probably old enough to be his mother, or pretty damn close. “Well, it would seem she didn’t only bid on him for herself, but two of her friends were in on it too. The man barely made it to the parking lot before they were all on him like a pack of horny teenagers. He may be out of commission for a day or two.”

  I shiver at the thought.

  “I’m done,” I say as I tap the end call button and walk away from my phone, regretting that I ever called him in the first place. I had to burn off some of this energy before tonight, or I was afraid we wouldn’t make it to dinner. Fuck, I am wired more than I think I ever have been. Each time I close my eyes, I can feel Emerson’s body pressed to mine. I can hear her whimpers, feel the way her hips shifted as she rubbed herself against me. Since leaving her place last night, I’ve beat off twice and it only seems to be making matters worse. It was having the opposite effect on my arousal because my fist isn’t fucking enough.

  I need to feel her. I know nothing else will simmer this ache.

  Emerson

  I had a terrible time falling asleep last night, or should I say this morning. I had so much fun with Nic before and during our make-out session outside my door. I know I’ve said it before, but he is just so different from the norm for me. His confidence and even his dirty humor intrigue me so much more than I ever thought possible.

  When our evening came to an end at almost two-thirty in the morning, I was sad to see him go. Though I was disappointed or at least my body was, I was glad things were left as they were. It made me aware that Nic wasn’t just looking for a one-night stand.

  The buzzer to my apartment echoes throughout my living room, making my body jerk in surprise. The coffee in my cup sloshes out onto the countertop before me and burns my hand in the process. “Damn it,” I complain as I set it down quickly and move toward the sink for the comfort of cold water.

  Again the buzzer rings and I groan as I grab a towel and dry my hand. Rushing across the open space, I start smacking the button before it has the chance to ring once more. “Yes?”

  “Open the door,” Gianna insists. “Your creepy doorman is giving me the once over, and I don’t know if he’s about to call the cops or jump me. I prefer the cops by the way. I think he has more hair hanging out of his nose than I have on my cookie.”

  “Eww,” I protest because I could have lived without her details.

  She is ridiculous, but even then she always manages to make me laugh. I buzz her through and go back to my kitchen to clean up my coffee mess. She has a key to my apartment, but recently they’ve started to enhance the security to our building, and a code is required to enter the front doors, which I have yet to give her. I think I enjoy the fact that she can’t just barge in when she wants to. She, of course, hates it.

  “That man freaks me out.” Her voice echoes over the apartment as she pushes through the door. “I think he was getting hard.”

  I roll my eyes as I round the corner and I stop dead in my tracks. “Please for the love of god, tell me you’re wearing something under that t-shirt.”

  “Wellllll,” she stretches out the word, “if you insist that I lie.”

  I let my head hang forward, though I shouldn’t be surprised. She is wearing a light blue t-shirt that is thin, very thin. Around her waist she has what looks like a necktie made into a belt, cinched and hanging down her side. Her hair is wadded up in a high ponytail, all wild and crazy and on her feet are the fancy heels she wore from the night before.

  “No wonder my doorman was ogling you. My god, Gia, you can see your tits right through the material of the shirt.”

  “I wore this over it.” She holds up a thin sweater. “I was just hot, so when I stepped inside I took it off. It’s probably the best view the man has gotten all week, huh? Should I be grossed out that he’s probably down there right now jerking his—”

  “Stop,” I say holding up my hand in protest. “Has anyone ever told you that your vocabulary is flagrant and repulsive?”

  “You often do.” She shimmies past me and reaches up for a coffee mug on the open shelves above my coffee bar. In the process, her ass cheeks peek out from beneath the hem of her t-shirt.

  “Where the hell is your underwear, you floozy?”

  Instead of attempting to cover her ass, she wiggles it and smiles at me over her shoulder. “I've left them somewhere in Spencer’s apartment. But in my defense, I did attempt to look for them. I do, however, vaguely remember the sound of something tearing in the heat of the moment so they may be in pieces.”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “I know, right?” With a mug in hand, she moves toward the pot, and I watch in silence as she makes a cup of coffee with far too much sugar and cream. “God, that tastes good,” she mumbles as she sips the sugary liquid. “In my rush to leave, I missed my wake me up cup.”

  “Why were you rushing to leave?”

  “That man may just have a higher sexual craving than I do,” she says, with a look of disbelief. “I swear, parts of me hurt that I didn’t know were possible.”

  “You can hold back any further details.”

  “Fine,” she rolls her eyes, “but you can fill me in on your night.”

  “It was nowhere near as whorish as yours,” I say with a smile. She mouths the word jealous and she may be right. I do sometimes wish I had the confidence and free spirit that she has. Gianna isn’t a whore as I teased her before; she is just open to her desires. She doesn’t sleep around, but she doesn’t hold back the urges should they arise when the right man is present either. This comes from her being trapped for far too long in a relationship with the wrong man. She spent three years married to a controlling, manipulative man, and dated him for a couple of years before that. She eventually realized she deserves more and now she is more of a take what I want when I want it kind of girl.

  I admire her; I won’t lie.

  “I already know that you and Mr. Magic Mike himself didn’t spend the night together, but there is no way you will convince me that with a man like that something didn’t happen. He is far too sexy and far too confident not to make even the smallest of moves.” She is right, he did have some pretty killer moves. “Imagine him above you, naked, moving his hips the way he did on that stage.”

  “Oh my god, will you stop already?” I toss the towel at her, and it hits her shoulder. “Not everything is about sex.”

  “No, but a good majority of it is. Believe me when I say being stuck in a relationship with shit sex does, in fact, kill the connection.” I lean back against the counter as she does the same opposite me. “The attraction, the physical one, I don’t care who out there tries to convince me otherwise but it is the first thing that draws one to another. If you look at a man and instantly you think boring and drab, then you walk away. But if you see him and your body feels that pull, that desire for more, the one that has you shivering and humming in all the right places, then it’s a go. The rest comes with the process. So yes, the sex appeal sets a precedent for the rest of the relationship. It’s the starting point to whether it becomes more than just physical.”

  I don’t respond because from the moment she said boring and drab all I could visualize was myself trapped in a relationship from hell with one of the many men my father insists will be the best suited for me. Out of all those, no one has ever given me the feeling that Nic did in a matter of hours.

  “So…” I look back toward Gianna to find her watching me with curiosity.

  “We kissed,” I confess, “a lot.”

  “And?”

  “We’re going
out again tonight.” Her smile widens. “But that doesn’t mean it is going any further.”

  “Why not?”

  “You know why,” I tell her and ignore the way her nose wrinkles in irritation.

  “Jesus, Em! Your father needs to back off. This entire thing is a bit creepy.” I turn away from her and walk toward my dining room. “You need to ask him if he’d appreciate you picking out his partner.”

  “My mother wouldn’t appreciate that I’m sure.”

  “Seriously?” I already know where this conversation is going. “Your poor mother is programmed to accept anything and everything that man tells her. I sometimes wonder if she even has a voice.”

  “She loves him.”

  “She is also his puppet.” I can’t argue because I know it’s true. My mother never once speaks up when it comes to my dad. “I don’t want to see you end up like that one day. A woman who lets go of everything she wants out of life to please a man. You have so much to offer and I’m not just talking about the money that follows you. All those men he attempts to set you up with, all they see when they look at you is their way in. Yes, they get a gorgeous woman to call theirs, but with that comes great fortune. The way Nic looked at you last night was not a man that was in it for the Mansfield money.”

  “No, it was a man that wanted to get laid."

  “If that was the case, then I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have been calling Spencer first thing this morning to burn off all his sexual tension with a day at the gym.” She sat at the table opposite me. “That man was wound up and looking for something to distract him from the gorgeous woman he spent the previous evening with. All I’m saying is he didn’t have to ask you on a second date, he could have just moved on. I think that alone speaks volumes.”

  “I have a special guest arriving at the West Lake location who will be in town for only a few days.” I continue to work on my makeup as I listen to my father ramble on. “He’s considering our location for a series of upcoming high-end events. This would bring in not only the funds from the events themselves, but the demanding needs of all those we would be housing as well.”

  “When is he arriving?” I try to sound interested even though this is the last thing I want to worry about. It is a little after six, and all I can think of is that in less than an hour I will see Nic again.

  “He’ll be here tomorrow afternoon and he’ll be staying through Wednesday,” he replies. “I’ve already set him up for dinner at the Mirage tomorrow evening and your reservations are at eight. You should be there earlier to greet him.”

  I freeze, the eyeliner pencil hovering over my left eye as I attempt to catch up with the words he just spoke.

  “His name is Rodger Marcus and he is a man of many means. I’m counting on you to make a great impression.” His voice grows muffled for a few seconds before it becomes clear once more. “I’ve already ensured him that my beautiful daughter will show him the facility and answer all questions he may have. He seemed very pleased with the offer of a lady to accompany him around the city and hotel.”

  I’m sure he did. I feel like a hooker being pimped out for business. “It would’ve been nice if you’d at least checked with me first before planning my evening.” He laughs and something about it irritates me more. “I may have had plans already.”

  “I think we both know that the only plans you ever have are related to business or that atrocious woman you call a friend.”

  “Lay off Gianna.” I may give in to many things and talk about what my father says without offering up a fight, but Gia wasn’t one of them.

  “Be at Mirage by seven forty-five tomorrow evening and no later.”

  I hear the click of the line and instantly get the urge to throw the phone across the room. But what good would that do? The man is an asshole and breaking my phone won’t stop him from attempting to control my life. He would merely have a replacement hand delivered to me so that he could once again tell me where I should be and what his expectations are while I’m there.

  There is one thing I won’t do though. I won’t allow him to ruin my evening with Nic.

  Nicholas

  I walk into the lobby of Emerson’s apartment building and immediately the doorman eyes me curiously. It wasn’t the same man who witnessed me leaving this morning after my heated hallway encounter with a gorgeous girl. This one is older and much more observant; his eyes follow me carefully as I move in closer. “Good evening sir, may I help you?”

  “I’m here to pick up Ms. Mansfield for the evening,” I say confidently. He continues to watch me and I walk over toward the panels of buzzers and hit number twelve. Just as her voice rings out through the intercom, my phone begins to vibrate on my hip.

  “I’ll buzz you up, Nic,” she says just as the buzzer sounds and the door toward the elevator that will take me up to her floor opens, allowing me to enter.

  “Vaughn,” I say into my phone as I tap floor six and wait for the doors to close behind me.

  “We have a call about a body found in the lower garage of Trevor Tower.” I lean back against the wall of the elevator, a feeling of disappointment hitting me. “Gunshot wound to the head, a second to the shoulder. The entrances of both appear to be from the back. The Captain needs you on the scene.” The elevator doors slide open and I step out, pausing once they slide closed behind me.

  The door leading to the woman I’ve been dying to see since the moment I left here earlier this morning is only a few feet away. “I’m about twenty minutes out,” I tell Richards before ending the call. The truth is it’s more like five, but there was no way I was leaving here without seeing Emerson first.

  My legs are moving before I have a second to register it and my hand is fisted before me as I knock on the door of her apartment. My heart feels like it is hammering in my chest. The moment the door opens, I step forward and hook her around the waist, pulling her body against me. My lips are crashing against hers; for a few seconds, I forget the interruption I’d gotten only moments ago.

  Much like earlier in the day, the silk material of her dress feels terrific beneath the palm of my hand as I gently trace over the contour of her hip.

  “Wow,” she mumbles, “that's some hello.”

  I smile against her lips, unable to hide my excitement as I lean back just enough to see her face. “It’s hello and goodbye.” Her head tilts carefully to the side, a look of confusion covering her beautiful features. “I hate to do this, but I just got a call. I have to investigate a scene.”

  I don’t miss the disappointment in her eyes; believe me, I understand because I feel it too. “Okay,” she offers hesitantly and instantly I hate how agreeable she is. I want to hear her tell me she wants, no, she needs me to stay.

  I don’t attempt to move, only continue to hold her close. “I don’t know how long this is gonna take. It could be an hour, it could be four.”

  “I understand.”

  Don’t, I want to tell her.

  “I wanna come back here.” I lift my hand and comb my fingertips through the hair that hangs loosely around her face. “We could order in and just talk if that’s what you wanna do, but I still wanna see you.” She nods and I find myself grateful that she is just as eager for my return. I pull my phone from my pocket and pass it to her. “Put your number in.”

  I take the chance to look her over, admiring the long sexy dress she chose to wear and the way it conforms to her body, showing off the shape of her slender waist and perfect hips. Fuck, leaving was going to be hard.

  “Here you go,” she says, regaining my attention as she passes my phone back to me. For a few passing seconds, we do nothing but stare at each other. I can almost see the same struggle in her eyes that I feel.

  “I better go,” I say though I reach out to grip her hip once more and pull her body to mine. “But you should know that it’s almost impossible to get my legs to walk in the opposite direction. The only thing I truly want to do is go back to this morning, to that moment I had your body p
ressed up against the wall, and you made that sound when you felt just what you were doing to me.”

  I love that look in a woman eyes, that moment they become so turned on they temporarily lose track of the words they want to speak. The way their eyes dilate, or their chest begins to rise and fall, only bringing attention to their breasts. Fuck, there was nothing else like it. That conquering feeling when I know they feel what I’m touching nearly brings me to my knees.

  I don’t give her the chance to say anything in return. I didn’t need her to because her body language says what I am desperate to know. I lean in and kiss her thoroughly enough to hold her over until I’m able to get back here. When I step back and she continues to keep her eyes closed, I get that empowering feeling all over again.

  I begin to walk backward just as she starts to open her eyes. “By the way Em,” I use the nickname I heard Gianna call her so many times the night before, “you look fucking beautiful standing there in that dress, your cheeks flushed with the arousal you feel.” She tucks her chin to her chest in what I assume is embarrassment. “Can’t wait until later when I’m able to make you feel that way all over again.”

  Just as the elevator doors slide open, she lifts her chin and her eyes meet mine. A smile covers her mouth just before she bites her lower lip and I step inside and hit the button to close the doors before me. A feeling of extreme frustration washes over me when what I just left behind hits me.

  I left the crime scene after three hours of going over every detail again and again. It appeared to be gang-related. The man’s tattoos were those of a gang we’ve been watching for some time. There were no signs of a scuffle, just a straight shot to the shoulder and one to the back of the head. We’ve had a string of gang-related murders in the area over the last few months.

  After hours of analyzing and questioning any witnesses who may have seen anything helpful to solve this crime, I was wiped. What my body wanted to do was go home and climb into the shower before calling it a night, but my mind wouldn’t let me.