A serious expression comes over his face. He spins me around and unzips my dress. I like the force and the power with which he works. It feels like I'm almost a rag doll under his strong hands and I love being a rag doll. He slips the dress down, leaving me in a strapless bra and panties. Then he puts my hands up in the air and ties them to the top of the swing. The restraints are soft but strong. I tug on them but I can’t break free.
“You’ve been a bad girl, Ellie,” Aiden says with all seriousness. Suddenly, he is completely within the character of Mr. Black, the man I met what seems like a century ago on his yacht. While Aiden is complicated and multi-textured, Mr. Black is not. He has razor-sharp focus on one thing - pleasure - and that’s what I crave most about him.
“Yes, I have,” I say.
“Yes, you have, what?” Mr. Black asks.
“Yes, I have been a bad girl, sir,” I correct myself.
I’ve always thought it was a little cheesy when I heard or read about women calling men sir in the sexual context, but something about it is ridiculously hot. I’ve given him control. He’s in charge, at least in this moment. There’s something completely freeing about it.
“That’s better.”
“Now, what am I going to do with you?” Mr. Black asks, walking around me and staring at my body.
My heart skips a beat as I wait on his decision. Slowly, he undoes my bra and pulls down my panties. Then he bends down and puts one of my breasts into his mouth. He squeezes lightly and I feel a little shock of electricity rush through my body. While flicking my nipples with his tongue, he reaches in between my legs and pushes them apart. Then he sticks his finger deep within me and starts to massage me. My clit begins to throb. I’ve never had anyone touch me like this while I was standing up and the feeling is overwhelming.
A few moments later, he presses something against my inner thigh. It’s a small vibrator, which he expertly maneuvers right onto my clit while pushing his fingers deep inside of me and not taking his mouth off my breasts. I start to moan immediately. Not being able to move my hands, and being forced to experience pleasure in such a restrained environment, makes my whole body pulsate with feeling. My calves start to cramp up and a warm soothing sensation from deep inside is about to erupt to the surface.
“Oh, no, sweetie,” Mr. Black says, pulling away from me and slowing down. “You can’t orgasm so easily. What would be the fun in that?”
“I can’t?” I plead. “But I want to. I really, really want to.”
“Oh, I know, sweetie. But you didn’t call me sir. And you haven’t been teased enough quite yet.”
I let out a little sigh as he presses the vibrator deep within me and my whole body starts to shake with pleasure.
“Okay, I’m going to try something a little different now. Let’s see how you like it.”
Mr. Black walks around and ties the loose ends of the fabric around my breasts and torso. He puts my arms behind my back and ties them behind as well. Then he drops me to the floor and ties the other loose ends of the swing around the upper part of my thighs, bending my legs back and tying my ankles to my thighs. Finally, he ties all parts of me together, connecting my thighs to my ankles to my torso.
“Now, I’m going to pull you up until you’re parallel to the floor. Does that sound good?”
“Yes, sir.” I nod, my body shivering in anticipation. Mr. Black pulls up and, within a moment, I’m suspended in mid-air completely parallel to the floor. My legs are wide open and my pussy is completely exposed. He spins me a little to get me just in the place that he wants me. Then he takes his fingers and presses them deep inside of me. When he moves them around a bit, I feel myself get completely wet.
“Oh my God,” I moan in pleasure.
I hear him kneel down somewhere behind me and press his lips to me. His tongue runs up and around my clit and then makes its way deep inside of me. The sensation is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. The weightlessness that’s provided by the swing exposes and concentrates all attention on my pleasure center, making me give off moans unlike the kind I’ve ever given off before.
A few moments later, Mr. Black swings me away from him and then back toward him. I love how the air feels as I push it out of my way with my body. On one of the times that I come back toward him, he enters me, sending my body into overdrive. Mr. Black holds onto the swing as he pushes in and out of me, filling me completely.
“Oh, Aiden,” I moan.
“Do you want to cum?” he asks.
“Yes, I do. I really do, sir,” I mumble. There’s no way I could stop the orgasm if I wanted to. A familiar soothing sensation starts to pulsate through my body as I let myself go completely.
“Ellie!” Mr. Black screams a few moments later as he pounds into me over and over. I feel myself closing in around his large cock, taking him deep within me. I want to stay in this moment forever.
Chapter 14 - Ellie
When another invitation arrives…
The following day, I spend feverishly writing about how my unassuming main character gets auctioned off at a fancy yacht party to a very hot and wealthy eligible bachelor. I find myself writing so fast that I can barely keep up with my own thoughts. Somewhere in the middle of the auction scene, it hits me. I can’t wait to get to the good, juicy parts where they finally have sex. Just like everything else in the story, I still want to tell the truth when I write about what happens between my protagonist and her mysterious stranger. Why? Because the truth of what happened that night is more exciting and arousing than anything else I could make up.
Of course, writing that first sex scene makes my mind go back to my own experience in the swing from just yesterday. It has been twenty-four hours since Mr. Black turned my world upside down and I’ve only just begun processing a little bit of what happened. The swing was quite a surprise, but the pleasure it provided was even more of a surprise. The constraints and restraints that I experienced, just being tied to the bed, was nothing like what I experienced last night - being suspended in air with my legs spread open for him to do with what he liked. And I liked, no loved, everything he did to me.
Suddenly, a knock at the door breaks my concentration.
“Oh my God, are you still working?” Caroline asks, rolling her eyes. “I swear, ever since you quit your job, you seem to be working 24/7.”
That’s not entirely untrue. Ever since I quit a job I hated and started doing something I loved, work doesn’t really feel like work anymore. I actually wake up looking forward to writing.
“Listen, will you take a break for a second? There’s a package out there for you.”
I follow her into the kitchen. She hands me a bland Amazon looking package and I search my mind trying to remember the last thing I ordered from there. That’s the nice thing about Amazon, isn’t it? You order something and then forget about it completely. And when it arrives, a few days later, it’s like a little surprise.
When I open the nondescript cardboard box, I find another smaller box inside. It looks familiar. It’s gold plated just like the one Caroline got before, with whimsical twirls around the edges. Except this time, instead of Caroline’s name, I see my name. Underneath my engraved name is tomorrow’s date. Eight p.m. The box has the same elegant knob with the same custom monogram inside made of foil in gold on silk emblazoned on the inside of the flap cover.
“Oh my God, oh my God!” Caroline squeals with excitement. “Is this another invitation to a yacht party?”
“Looks like it.”
I look over the invitation once again, a little bit confused. Is this from Aiden? Is he having another party? Will there be another auction? It’s not that I expected him to stop hosting parties. I mean, parties have to be planned ahead of time and I’m sure this one was on the calendar way before we met. But why the hell am I getting another invitation?
“Oh my God! You have to take me. I took you!” Caroline demands.
“You want to go?” I ask. “But you didn’t even
have a good time before. You didn’t want anything to do with that auction.”
“I know, I know.” She waves her hand at me. “But the thing is that I sort of regret it. I mean, you had fun. You met Aiden. Maybe I can meet someone.”
I shake my head. I don't really know how to wrap my mind around this. So, I do the only thing I can think of. I dial Aiden’s number. When he picks up, I ask him about the party.
“I invited you because I thought we would have fun again. The party has been planned for months,” he says nonchalantly. I’m having a hard time reading him.
“So, will there be an auction again?” I whisper into the phone. I don’t really know why I’m whispering. Caroline knows all about it, but I still feel a little timid about the whole thing.
“Well, you’ll have to come to find out,” he says cryptically. “Listen, I’m in the middle of a meeting. I can’t talk now. See you tomorrow.”
He’s just assuming that I’m going to come, but honestly I’m not sure. I mean, what’s the point? I don’t want to participate in another auction that’s for sure. I don't want some other man to get me. I just want to be with Aiden. And until I got this invitation, I thought that he just wanted to be with me, too.
Suddenly, my phone rings again.
“Hey, it’s me again,” Aiden says. “I didn’t think I ended that conversation very well. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I mumble.
“No, let me explain. I’m having another party. Yes, that’s true. And you got an invitation because I really want you to come. And I mean really. I don't want to be with anyone else. And I think we would have fun there.”
I think about that for a moment.
“Please come. It’s just going to be an over the top, elegant, crazy affair just like last time. And it wouldn’t be the same without you.”
“You really want me there?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m falling for you, honey. And I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”
My heart skips a beat. “I’m falling for you, too,” I whisper.
When I hang up, I turn around to face Caroline.
“Oh my god, we’re going, right? This means we’re going?” she asks, jumping up and down.
A small smile comes over my face.
“Yes, yes, yes!” she squeals at the top of her lungs, grabbing me by the shoulders.
“Okay, okay.” I push her away. “Yes, we’re going.”
* * *
The End for now
* * *
I hope you enjoyed this story. Auctioned to Him 3: Back to the Yacht will be out within the month. Looking forward to sharing it with you.
EXCLUSIVE BONUS CONTENT
For a limited time, this book includes a number of my other #1 bestsellers. Hope you enjoy them!
* * *
Love,
Charlotte Byrd
Indebted (Book 1)
When 25 yr. old waitress, Brielle, receives a mysterious check for $250,000, she uses the money to pay for her mother's very expensive cancer treatment, saving her life.
Two years later, she is called to pay back her debt. All she has to do is travel to an isolated mansion and work for one year as a personal assistant to an arrogant asshole whom she hates.
Wyatt Wild is a gorgeous alpha billionaire playboy who is not used to girls saying no to him. He has bedded models, actresses and socialites and then a waitress from some crappy roadside cafe dares to reject him. Who does she think she is?
Wyatt always gets what he wants and his desires focus on the innocent and stubborn Brielle. Neither give in easily and they quickly get locked in a game of seduction.
* * *
**WARNING: Steamy scenes, NO Cheating, HEA!
Chapter 1 - Wyatt
I wanted to fuck her the first time I saw her. She wasn’t my type. Not at all. A little plump with messy, brown hair and a sweaty forehead from taking too many orders and delivering food to strangers who left her fifty cent tips.
She was dressed in a plain white t-shirt and ratty jeans. The jeans dragged a bit on the floor and the holes were definitely not made by a manufacturer. No respectable girl I knew would ever wear something like that, and that made me want her even more.
Her jeans were tight at the waist, and she adjusted them periodically. Pulling them up over her hips while pulling down her shirt. She was trying to hide her figure, as if she was embarrassed by her gorgeous thighs, hips, and breasts. Contemporary society is all fucked up. This girl’s –this woman’s body, was what every man wants. Every straight man of every race, ethnicity, and creed. A tiny waist, shapely hips and legs, and breasts big enough to grab on to. Despite that, all the women’s magazines try to do is to convince them that they’re too fat because they’re not shaped like 12-year-old boys!
The name tag on her shirt said, ‘Brielle,’ which was a fancy French name to have for a girl who worked at a crappy roadside diner in the middle of the workday. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this was her full-time job. I would be surprised if she worked here to get through school. There wasn’t a college for a hundred miles in any direction.
No, this Brielle was all wrong for me, and the worst part was that she didn’t have any money!
I don’t like girls without money. It’s not because I’m shallow. It’s because I’m practical. I don’t fuck girls without money, because it gets too complicated. It’s much more likely to make things more complicated. Girls without money feel taken advantage of. They want to see me more. They think that a one night stand is unreasonable, and if it goes past one or two nights then they want me to save them. Rescue them from their pathetic little lives. But I’m not a prince. I’m not a white knight either. I don’t have it in me, even though I do own a white horse that I love to ride.
I don’t like to rescue girls. I don’t like needy girls. No, the girls I fuck have to have their own careers – a starring role in a TV show, a signed contract with a prominent modeling agency, or at the very least, a reasonably-sized trust fund with one or two million from mommy and daddy. Oh hell, who are we kidding? It’s always from daddy.
I established these rules long ago, and I abide by them religiously. They are there to keep both of us safe. To make sure that we both have fun, but not too much. I don’t want the girls I fuck to have expectations about me. Expectations that I will never live up to.
And now, walking into this café and seeing Brielle, I’m ready to toss them out of the window. I want her. I want to put my throbbing cock in her wet pussy and pull her hair until she moans.
I get hard in anticipation as I watch her take an order from an old trucker at the next table.
“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Brielle says, pushing his hand away from her ass.
I was too focused on her breasts that I hadn’t even noticed the trucker’s itchy hand reach out and grab her ass.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he says sarcastically and laughs to his friend.
“Not as sorry as you’re going to be,” she says, grabbing his uneaten plate of food.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I don’t know where you think you are, but this isn’t that kind of establishment. You can’t just go around touching women inappropriately here. And you’d better get the hell out.”
“But I didn’t finish eating,” the trucker stands up dumbfounded. He reaches out for his plate, but she moves it away from him.
“You’re done,” she says with the kind of determination in her voice that makes me ever more hard. “Please leave,” Brielle says. “And don’t come back.”
“I’d like to see your manager, you little cunt. You’re going to get fired.”
“I’m the manager here. Now, get the fuck out!”
I get out of the booth and stand next to her. I’m thankful for my loose fitting jeans.
“You heard her, sir,” I say. “The lady would like you to leave. So p
lease leave.”
People at the next booths start to clap and cheer, and my friends join in. The trucker and his friend curse her out, but head towards the door.
“You’re a real cunt. You know that? You’re going to be sorry for this!”
I’m standing right next to her and, though, she’s trying to stay strong, I can see that she’s really shaken. Her chest is flushed, and the trucker’s plate is rattling slightly in her hand.
“That was really impressive,” I say.
She turns to me.
“I’m probably going to get fired over it.”
“I thought you were the manager?”
“No,” she shakes her head and starts to gather the plates and cutlery from the trucker’s booth. “The manager’s coming in later tonight. I’m just the waitress.”
“Well, I don’t see why you’d get fired. He had no right to grab your ass like that. He was a real asshole.”
“Thanks,” she smiles. Her smile lights up the room. “Can I get that in writing from you?”
“Yes, of course.”
I startle her. Catch her off-guard, in a good way. I like that.
“I’m just kidding,” she finally says. “Let me just get all this stuff to the kitchen, and I’ll come back and take your order.”
When I return to the booth, the guys laugh and slap me on the shoulders. They know she’s not my type, they know that I’m breaking my rules.
“I don’t know, Tyler. Looks like Wyatt’s in love,” Logan laughs.
“With a waitress!” Tyler chimes in.
“What happened to only dating girls with jobs or rich girls? Preferably both?” Ryan asks.
“She’s got a job,” I say. “We’re at her job.”
“Oh, please. A waitress? That’s not a real job. You’re breaking your rules, and you know it,” Logan jokes.
Auctioned to Him 2: His for a Week Page 18
