Acquired: A Billionaire Auction Romance

by Charlotte Byrd

  He does a good job of masking his surprise, but I see it there for a moment. It is quickly replaced with a broad smile. So, he didn’t think I could bounce back? Well, he is about to learn a thing or two about me.

  We sail the rest of the afternoon and I quickly get the hang of handling the boat. Blake guides us to an anchorage near the Wye River. We drop anchor as the sun is setting amidst a chorus of water birds. The air quickly cools as the sun drips below the western horizon and Blake hands me a sweater. It is cashmere and fits perfectly. There is virtually no swell, so the boat’s movement is almost imperceptible. Also, after a few hours under sail I have gotten used to the motion.

  “Are you hungry?” Blake asks.

  “A bit,” I lie. I am starving. I hadn’t expected how much work it would be to sail, even keeping my balance all afternoon had required effort.

  “Come on below,” he beckons me to follow him. The salon is dark, but Blake hits a switch and the space is flooded with a warm, yellow light. I hadn’t yet had a chance to check out the interior, but now that I see it I am floored. It feels like a luxury hotel room. Clean, modernist design, all the surfaces are fine, light wood or rich, creamy textiles and carpets. The kitchen, or galley as Blake called it, has marble countertops and all the appliances you need. I take a seat on the couch as Blake begins to poke around in the kitchen.

  “It will just be a few minutes,” he says over his shoulder.

  I watch as he applies the same swift, sure, practiced movements he demonstrated when handling the boat to making dinner. Soon, the smells begin to waft over from the stovetop and my stomach begins to rumble loudly.

  “So, why did you decide not to go to grad school?” Blake asks out of the blue.

  “I just didn’t see a future in it, I guess. I mean, one of my professors had to bounce around to four different schools before she got a tenure track position. And I know recent Ph.Ds who haven’t been able to find work at all or who are stuck as adjuncts making next to nothing. It just seemed like a lot of work without any kind of payoff.”

  “But you were interested in it, right? I mean, the subject matter. Isn’t it worth it just to learn?”

  I am about to snap at him, tell him that only someone who doesn’t have to think about money, who has inherited a fortune, could afford to think that way, but he beats me to the punch.

  “I guess that is a bit impractical, sorry. I’m sure you made the right decision.”

  “Thanks,” I say with not a little sarcasm. “But honestly, I’m not entirely sure I did. I mean, I haven’t exactly gotten very far going the other direction.”

  Blake lets that hang for a few minutes as he puts the final touches on dinner. He brings two plates over, steam and the smell of sautéed mushrooms rising from them, and sits next to me.

  “You studied Ancient Greek, right? Have you ever been there?”

  “No, I’ve always wanted to, though.”

  Blake smiles broadly.

  “What are you doing this weekend?”

  Chapter 19 - Emma

  The sky had darkened to a deep, velvety black. I can’t remember the last time I saw so many stars. Even though the big cities of Washington D.C. and Baltimore are relatively close, there is remarkably little light pollution out here at our anchorage. I can see patches of stars through the windows installed on the deck above the main cabin. The windows are flush with the deck. I hadn’t even noticed them earlier today, but now I can’t help staring. They are the only light coming into the cabin.

  Earlier, I saw that the cabin was decorated in a simple, efficient, yet elegant style. There wasn’t a lot of room for ostentation on a sailboat, even one this large. The bed was huge, though, taking up nearly the entirety of the forward berth. It was surrounded by built-in cabinets of soft, light wood and the linens were creamy white and exceptionally soft.

  But right now, I can’t see any of it. Other than the stars above, everything is black. But that doesn’t matter. I can feel Blake near me, smell him, sense him. I sit on the end of the bed, my legs pulled up under me. Blake is somewhere in the gloom behind me. I wait patiently, not knowing what to expect, but expecting something.

  His hand brushes against my ear as he takes my hair in his fingers and pulls back slightly, just enough to excite the nerve endings in my scalp. Tingles ripple down my face and neck. He lets my hair fall back down and then runs the tip of his fingers from my shoulders to my wrists.

  I can feel his breath on my neck. He doesn’t kiss me, doesn’t touch me, but I am still aware of his closeness. His fingers take hold of my t-shirt at the bottom and slowly lift it up. I raise my arms and he pulls it free. I hear its muffled landing on the carpeted floor. A brief touch and I feel the pressure of my bra disappear as he unhooks the clasps. I shrug my shoulders and the straps slide down my arms.

  Just as my breasts come free, they are immediately enveloped in Blake’s warm, strong hands. He holds them gently, kneading them between his fingers. I feel his body come closer behind me. Then his legs appear on either side of mine. He pulls me back toward him, never taking his hands off my breasts. I lean into him, his bare chest radiating heat. Snugging up between his legs, I can feel that he is hard already. Teasingly, I rock my hips backward, grinding my ass onto his cock. He gives my nipple a little pinch in response. I squeak and laugh.

  He keeps his hands on my breasts, rolling my nipples back and forth between his fingers until they are stiff. I feel his lips on my neck, just where it meets my shoulder. I reach back and run my hands through his hair, gripping it tight. One of his hands drops away from my chest and drifts to my lap. He snakes his fingers underneath the waistband of my pants and pushes deep in between my legs. I lift up my legs, opening them up, and resting them on top of his. He immediately takes advantage of the increased access and cups my whole sex in his hand. I start to moan as his fingers make little circular movements on the outside.

  I lean my head back and he meets me, swallowing one of my moans with a deep kiss. He pulls me even closer against him, keeping firm, but gentle pressure between my legs. I bring my legs together, pressing hard on his hand and trapping it against me. He doesn’t make a move to remove it, he just keeps up his steady movements. I slide my pants down. Blake helps by lifting me clean off the bed and against his muscular chest. I kick the pants and panties to the floor and spread my legs wide again.

  Blake has one hand in the center of my chest, holding me firmly against his body. His other is spreading apart my lips, teasing me, playing just around the edge of where I want him to be.

  He removes his hands for an instant and I almost cry out in protest, but then I feel him grip me firmly around the waist and lift me up. My butt is pressed against his stomach, I understand what he’s about to do, so I reach down between my legs and find his long, beautiful, rock-hard cock. I stroke it up and down a few times until Blake, whether through tiredness at holding me up or pure desire, lowers me down onto him. I guide him inside, every inch a new wave of pleasure. Once I am all the way down, I lean back against him. He anchors one hand in my hair, gripping it softly. The other he wraps around my chest, just below my breasts so that they are resting on his forearm like a shelf.

  I start to rock my hips back and forth, feeling him move inside me. My body starts to take over, following its own pleasure. I throw my head back and moan deeply. My hips pick up the pace. Then Blake leans forward, lifting me clear off the floor. He is still inside of me, but now he is standing and I am being held up by his powerful arms and his cock. I wrap my legs backward around his hips and he guides my hands to the counter. Then he puts his hands around my waist and begins to thrust. The change in motion is too much for me and I can feel an orgasm building in me almost immediately.

  “Oh, god, I’m gonna come,” I manage to breathe out.

  Blake pulls all the way out and, unwrapping my legs, spins me around to face him.

  “I want to see your face when you come,” he growls.

  We are standing directly under
a window, and a bit of moonlight allows us to just barely see each other. Blake’s face is filled with hunger. He lifts me back up and lowers me gently onto him. He bends down slightly as I wrap my legs around him again. Then he begins thrusting. He starts deep and he starts fast. I am brought right back to the brink. I lean back, trusting in his strong hands to keep me from falling backward. He plunges powerfully into me, little grunts of effort escaping his lips. Finally, the wave breaks and I cry out, grabbing whatever I can get my hands on to steady myself.

  Moments later, Blake gives a few more deep thrusts and then collapses backward, spilling both of us onto the bed, exhausted.

  Chapter 20 - Emma

  Despite the deep sleep on board, I wake up with the sun. I know the boat isn’t exactly the outdoors, considering how soft the bed and how luxurious the accommodations, but I still slept like I was camping out in the woods. Somehow, when you get out of the city and out of your daily routine, you quickly revert to more natural rhythms of sleeping and waking. Even the exertions of yesterday, by day and night, weren’t enough to keep me sleeping in late.

  Blake is still asleep. I can see the rounded muscles of his back and shoulders as he lies on his stomach, breathing slowly and deeply. I take careful steps out of the main cabin and into the salon, so as not to wake him, and go up onto the deck. The morning air is chilly and there is a light mist hanging over the wooded islands around our anchorage. It is silent except for the gentle lapping of water against the hull and the occasional call of an early rising bird. Sitting on a cushion, I pull my sweater down over my knees to keep warm and think about what I am going to do.

  Before we fell asleep last night, Blake again invited me to come to Greece with him. I was surprised at how much he knew about the ancient Mediterranean. He seemed genuinely interested in what I studied in college. We talked for a while about Athenian politics in the run-up to the Peloponnesian War and the relative strengths of Herodotus and Thucydides as historians. I didn’t keep up with any of my friends from college who were in my major. Neither Hannah nor April were much interested in history. But talking with Blake had rekindled my interest, brought me back to that sense of passion about the past that had drawn me to the major in the first place.

  Blake told me that he was going to Greece to meet with a client and invited me to come with him. He kept his boat in the Aegean and would take me around some of the famous islands and archaeological sites. He even knew some underwater sites. It sounded amazing. I almost said yes right away. But for some reason, I hesitated, wavered.

  Sitting on this beautiful yacht in the chill of a Maryland morning, I fantasize about the white rocks and turquoise water of the Greek islands. I can see myself in a bikini, or less, stretched out on Blake’s yacht as we sail from island to island, swimming in deserted coves and making love under the stars. It all sounds perfect. Too perfect.

  I think back to that friend of Blake’s, Trevor. He had warned me that Blake could be fickle, that he could be all in one moment and then drop me the next. I can feel myself getting sucked in, beginning to fall overboard, as it were. I have to make sure I protect myself. I want a man who will be there, no matter what. I don’t need the drama of someone who won’t show up, but then tries to make up for it with a big, showy gesture. And I’m just not sure, yet what kind of guy Blake really is. I am happy I gave him this second chance. I mean, it was a great day – and night. But I don’t think I can just jet off to Greece with him, throw my whole life out of whack, for someone I don’t know if I can really rely on. I will have to give it more time.

  I hear a stirring below deck. Blake must be awake. I decide to wait up here and continue watching the sunrise over the island to the west. The mist is beginning to melt away under the steadily increasing sunlight. By the time it is gone, Blake has arrived on deck carrying two cups of coffee. The rich, dark, hot liquid is a welcome addition to an already perfect morning.

  “Sleep well?” Blake asks, breaking the silence of the little cove.

  “I did. I was just enjoying the sunrise. I can’t remember the last time I woke up with the sun when I didn’t have to.”

  “I love the sunrises here.” Blake looks around the horizon with a wistful expression. “You know, I’ve sailed all over the world, some of the most exotic places you can imagine like the Skeleton Coast of Namibia or Svalbard Island, as well as the usual – the Whitsundays, Virgin Islands, all over the Med. But I still never get tired of sailing here. I grew up on these waters. My dad taught me to sail a little dinghy right around these islands. No matter where I go, I always seem to come back here.”

  I watch as he drifts off into reminiscence. It is nice to see his fondness for his childhood home, his deep memories of the places and events that formed him. It gives me an insight into who he really is.

  We finish our coffee in silence, enjoying the calm, quiet morning together without conversation. I am amazed by the fact that the silence doesn’t feel awkward at all. Even though we have spent only two nights together, one of which was in just about the oddest circumstances I ever imagined, I feel comfortable with him in ways I never did with boyfriends I was with for much longer.

  Once the cups have been cleaned and stowed, Blake raises the anchor and points us back toward Annapolis. There is no breeze to speak of, so the electric engine powers us quietly across the glassy calm surface of the Bay. All the way back, we don’t speak. Blake focuses on the boat and I stare off into the horizon. I am trying to decide whether to take him up on his offer.

  On the one hand, who would turn down a free trip to Greece with a hot guy on his yacht? I call myself a fool for even thinking about saying no. But at the same time, I am worried. I haven’t fallen this hard, this fast for anyone. I haven’t even been in love with anyone for a long time. I feel like this is too fast. I mean, just the other day I was sure I was done with this guy. I can look past standing me up with no explanation to a degree, but I can’t entirely forget it. And I can’t just open my heart completely to him as a result.

  The sun is shining warm on my skin when Blake pulls the boat back into its slip, leaping lightly onto the dock to tie her up. He holds my hand as I step from the deck onto the stairs.

  “Thank you for a wonderful night.”

  “Have you given any thought to Greece?”

  In my head, of course, I have been rolling this question over since last night. I am no closer to a firm decision. Then it hits me. If I am hesitating, if I am not sure, then I definitely should not go. I should only go if I am one hundred percent. And I am nowhere near that.

  “Um, thank you so much, seriously. I just don’t think I can go.”

  Blake’s face doesn’t give anything away, but I think I can see he is disappointed.

  “It all sounds great, of course, I just don’t think I’m ready.”

  “Ok.” Blake nods. “I understand. Well, I hope you will come sailing with me again when I get back in a couple of weeks.”

  “Of course,” I say with genuine enthusiasm. I don’t want to close the door on this guy; I just don’t know if I can really trust him, yet.

  Chapter 21 - Blake

  When I arrive at the marina, the mist is still clinging to the water, making it look like it is steaming. I know from experience that it is anything but. The water in Chesapeake Bay could be warm in the summer, but it still wasn’t exactly the Gulf of Mexico. I am coming to the office out of habit. I don’t have anything pressing. I’m already prepared for my trip to Greece. I’ve done my research, made some initial sketches, and let the marina where I keep my private yacht know that I am coming. The only thing that I haven’t been able to get sorted is Emma.

  Everything seemed to have gone very well when I took her sailing. She was laughing, smiling, and seemed to be having a good time all around. We talked late into the night, getting to know each other better and better. I felt like there was a real connection building. Despite the odd nature of the way we met, we seemed to be coming together like a real couple. And she se
emed excited by the prospect of going to Greece.

  Yet, she said she wouldn’t come. I have to admit I am not happy. I just can’t understand what her reticence is. One minute, we are laughing and talking like we’ve known each other forever, but the next she is guarded. I will have to take it more slowly. It will be worth it, I hope.

  Walking along the pathway just above the marina, I hear a group of men talking loudly, too loud for the early morning. I look around the various slips and identify the source. A half-dozen men are aboard an elegant, classic ketch that I didn’t see the last time I was here. When I get closer, I see that Trevor is among them. The men are trying to raise up the mainsail while they are still tied up to the dock. I run down to the dock.

  “What the hell are you idiots doing?” I yell as soon as I get into range. All six men drop what they are doing and stare at me. Trevor recognizes me and waves with a broad smile on his face.

  “Hey, Blake! Good to see you. We could use a hand getting going.”

  “I’ll give you a hand back onto the dock. What do you think you’re doing taking this boat out?”

  “Oh, this is Allen’s dad’s new boat. We are going on a little booze cruise.”

  The rest of the guys give a loud ‘whoo whoo’ as if they are at a frat party.

  “The hell you are. Does anyone on this boat have any sailing experience?”

  The one Trevor had pointed out as Allen raises his hand.

  “I used to go out with my dad in the summers on Martha’s Vineyard.”

  “This is a sixty-foot ketch. It is a serious boat. If none of you have skippered something like this, I can’t let you take her out. And given what I can see so far, there isn’t a drop of salt on board.”

  Faces darken. Wealthy scions are not generally accustomed to being told off. But I am certain that if these guys take the boat out by themselves and they start drinking, there is a good chance that the boat doesn’t get back to the marina in one piece. And a boat this beautiful should not be in the hands of such louts.