Much to my surprise, Robert is very well versed in tech companies and the way we do business. I had written him off as an old-school investor, who mainly knew how to make money with commodities and financial instruments rather than new tech, but I was all wrong. Robert knows a lot about my business and even asked me a few really tough questions about valuation, which I struggled to answer appropriately. That was a bit of a down point in the conversation. I thought I had lost him for sure. But again, Robert surprised me. At the end, he said that it all sounded good and that he was basically interested in coming on board. He still needs to have his team of lawyers and accountants take a look at all the relevant numbers, of course, and make sure that they are all lining up. But otherwise, I can count him in. He plans on making up for all the money that Blake pulled out of the company plus about 30% of what the company lost as a result of all the other investors who left.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Was this a joke? Was this really happening? When we shook hands, I felt like I had just let a big boulder the size of New Zealand drop off my shoulders. Without his investment, the company was going under fast. I have a meeting with the board of directors next week and I was sure that I was going to get fired then. Everything that has happened over the last few weeks happened because of me and there was nothing I could say or do to make any of it better. Until Robert decided to invest, of course. And not just invest, invest so heavily that it would basically bring the company back from collapse.
Without Robert’s money, the company would cease to exist. He’s putting in hundreds of millions of dollars. Of course, nothing is written in stone or put into an iron-clad contract and signed by me and a team of lawyers, but it’s something that I never expected in the first place. There are still lots of things to worry about. Will his accountants approve of his decision? Will the numbers line up? Will his lawyers advise him that this is an unwise decision - to invest in what is basically a failing company, which all other investors are running away from? But I can’t worry about those things right now. Right now, everything is perfect. Right now, the world is my oyster. I have Ellie and I have Owl. There is nothing else that I need in the world.
Chapter 2 - Ellie
After the party…
After Aiden comes to the cottage and tells me all the good news about what Robert said and his interest in investing and saving Owl, we are supposed to go back to the party. That’s why we’re here after all. That’s why we came all the way to Maine - to meet all the fabulous people that Tom, Caroline, and her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Warrenhouse, know. We’re at their annual fall party in their sprawling 1890’s Queen Anne estate overlooking the vast Atlantic Ocean, and it would be rude not to go back to the party. I know all of these things. Of course, I do. And yet, when I look into Aiden’s fierce eyes and see that mischievous way that he’s looking at me at this point, I know that he has other plans. And I know that I won’t be able to resist.
“I want you,” he whispers.
“I want you, too,” I say, but try to get away.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“We can’t just stay here. There’s the party—“
“Oh, who cares? They won’t miss us.”
I’m not so sure that’s true, but when Aiden wraps his arms around me and licks my ear lobe, I suddenly forget all obligations. I feel his thick cock pushing into my back and I get wet.
“I want you, now,” he says. But before he even makes a move, I lunge at him and we collide. Our mouths slide over each other. He lifts me up and wraps my legs around his hips. He carries me, stumbling, to the couch in the corner of the room. Right when we get there, we collapse under our combined weight.
I find myself sprawled underneath him. Suddenly, I’m naked from the bottom down. My dress is around my waist. I try to catch my breath, but he slides to his knees and opens my legs. This time, he isn’t slow or deliberate. He is rushed and impatient. He has to have me right now. He licks me a few times and then shoves his cock inside of me. I get wet immediately and open up for him. He massages my clit as I open my hips wider and wider to welcome him even deeper.
“Aiden!” I moan, digging my fingers into the couch. He pushes my shoulders into the couch and pushes his body away from me. He’s holding me perfectly still and having his way with me.
“Ellie.” He leans down over me. He covers my mouth with his and our tongues collide. His movements speed up and he burrows himself deeper inside of me with each lunge forward.
“You’re mine,” he mumbles. He wants to possess me and the thought of that drives my lust up the wall. My body quickens and tightens with each thrust. Suddenly, his body erupts in a loud groan as he comes inside of me. I hold him close as he climaxes, running my fingers over the protruding muscles in his back. When he’s done, he sighs deeply and pulls out my breast and pops it into his mouth. He stays in me for some time, licking my nipples. When he does eventually pull out, he only does it to reposition himself.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Well, you didn’t think we were done yet, did you?” he asks. He lies flat on his back and pushes me on top of him. His cock is not as hard as before, but it quickly grows in strength.
“How are you so hard?” I ask.
“I’m always hard for you.”
Aiden cups my breasts and closes his eyes. He starts to move his hips to nudge me and quickly I take over.
“Come for me,” he says and that pushes me over the edge. I start to whimper and moan as the orgasm comes much faster than I ever expected it to. Much faster than before. It rolls through me like a wave of pleasure. I clench my thighs and hope I don’t fall off. But he’s holding me tight, even as my body goes limp from all the warmth and pleasure that just rushed through every last bit of it. As I collapse on top of him, time stands still and nothing else exists or matters in this moment but us.
After we make love, I can’t sleep. My mind is going a million miles a minute, and I feel like I just downed a can of energy drink. I look over at Aiden. He has the exact opposite reaction to sex. His arms are wrapped tightly around me, but his eyelids are heavy and droopy. He can barely register what I’m saying and doesn’t really respond. He’s falling asleep. Fast. I don’t mind. I give him a brief peck on the forehead and extricate myself from him. I push his arms back to himself and pull the covers tightly around him. He’s so beautiful when he sleeps; it actually causes me pain to look at him. But a good kind of pain.
Since it already feels like it’s the middle of winter outside, I get dressed as soon as I get up and wrap myself tightly in a scarf that I brought for the occasion. Despite the cold, my body feels so antsy that I consider going outside. But I don't want to put on a coat and boots just quite yet. Instead, I do a few stretches and yoga moves to calm myself down. Reaching up to the sky and around for three sun salutations, I immediately feel a little bit more at ease. I close my eyes with each deep, deliberate breath, and when I open them again, they focus on one thing on the far side of the room. My laptop.
My fingers almost ache to open it. No, I shouldn't do it, right? I should just get back into bed, snuggle up to Aiden, and try to sleep. But when I look back at him and how comfortable and gorgeous he looks sleeping, I know that I won’t be able to fall asleep. Not yet. No, what I really want to do right now is write. What’s wrong with that? I mean, why can’t I?
Deciding not to fight my urges anymore, I sit down at the desk and open my laptop. Typically, if I’m procrastinating and wasting time, I first check my emails. Then I read some news. Then I take some quizzes on BuzzPost. Then I read some useless celebrity gossip on sites like Daily Mail and US Weekly. But tonight is different. None of those things interest me much at all. No, instead, all I want to do is open the last thing I’ve written for Auctioned Off and continue the story of us. It’s as if I need to get it down to make sure that I don’t forget anything. It’s as if it has to be written to make it real.
When my writing is going well, there�
��s a flow to it. There’s nothing more natural and easy. I simply put my hand to the keyboard and words just come out. Sometimes, I can’t type fast enough to actually catch up with what I’m trying to say. The world outside stops existing and I lose all sense of time and place. The words and the characters on the page are the only things that exist. I don’t even stop long enough to wonder if I exist. I know I don’t. Instead, I’m simply a vessel for the muse. I am the physical being writing down what is going on out there between the two of them.
The reality between fiction and real life blurs so much that when my characters suffer, I suffer. When they are happy, I am happy. When they cry, I cry. When my writing is going well, it becomes so much more meaningful than what’s going on out here. Except that this story is different, of course. This story isn’t fiction. It’s the truth. It’s what really happened between Aiden and me. Here, I’m not making anything up. What I experienced is exactly what’s in the story. And that makes the writing even more meaningful, in a way. I can live through those moments I cherished and those moments that terrified me again and again.
As I write, I don't really know where I’m headed with this book. I don’t have an outline or a plan. Instead, I simply sit at the keyboard and bleed onto the page. I’m using fake names, but the characters are us. And will always be us. Suddenly, a strong pang of fear hits me. I tense up for a moment and consider the question. Will I be strong enough to write the truth even when it’s not something pleasant anymore? I mean, the way that Aiden and I met was exciting and enticing. But what about what happened with Blake? Will I be able to write the truth about what he did to me? And what he’s now doing to Owl? I’m still a bit off from there, but those moments are coming. Especially, if I intend to write the whole truth as it happened. Is a pseudonym enough of a protection to tell the truth and keep what is private between us? I don’t know the answers to these questions. The more I think about that, the more questions I come up with, without many accompanying answers. Eventually, I decide to put these feelings aside and focus on the task at hand.
I write for almost two solid hours and my hands ache when I stop. I have been typing too fast and for too long. I rub my wrists to relieve some of the pressure as I scroll through the pages that I’ve written. The words aren’t perfect, of course. It’s just the first draft. But it’s a rather good one. I change very little except for punctuation and typos. The words have come out just as they had existed as thoughts in my head. If you aren’t a writer, you might not know, but that’s quite a rare thing. Most of the time, you just have a vague idea of where you are headed, but no real way of getting there. I smile as I save the document on my computer. I’m proud of it because I know it’s perfect for what it is - the first draft of the story. The story isn’t complete, nowhere close to it, but it’s perfect as what it is.
Chapter 3 - Ellie
When I take an early morning walk…
I close the laptop and stretch my arms around and behind me. My back cracks as I move my head from side to side. Wow. I’m pretty sore. I have been stuck in a stationary position for quite a while and all the joints in my body feel like they need extra fluids to lubricate them. I haven't worked this hard and focused this intensely for what seems like forever. Even my face feels tense. I rub my temples and stretch out every limb in my body. I feel excitement pulsing through my veins. When I glance at myself in the mirror, I see a wide, broad smile stretching across my whole face. I’m even smiling with my eyes.
I peek outside, past the blinds and the curtains. The sun is barely up. Only the idea of morning exists as a sliver of yellow somewhere over the horizon. A part of me wants to rush over to Aiden, wake him up, and tell him about everything that I have just accomplished. I can’t just keep this to myself. I feel like it's bursting out of me. But when I glance over at him, I see how peaceful he’s sleeping, even snoring a little bit every third breath, and I don’t have the heart to wake him up. No, this can wait. He needs his rest. All the emotional upheaval over Owl, and Robert Warrenhouse coming in last minute and saving the company from total collapse must have taken a toll on him. All the stress and lines around his face have straightened out. All the tension that has been sitting somewhere between his eyebrows has dissipated.
I pace around the room trying to think of something to do. I thought that writing would put my mind at ease and calm me down, but I’m still riding a high. I feel like I drank four cups of coffee, even though I haven’t had any caffeine since yesterday morning.
So, I decide to take a walk. I see little white flurries hit against the windows and decide that I definitely need boots and a coat. A hat and a scarf will also not hurt anyone. I’ve always been quite a wimp when it comes to the cold. I don't know if it’s my body temperature being naturally cooler than other people’s, or my slow metabolism, but I’m always cold. Even in the summer. I always need at least two more layers than other people just to stay warm, and running in place or doing some exercises doesn’t help much. I just get sweaty and then I’m even colder than before.
I slip my feet into a thick pair of my favorite Uggs and relish how comfortable they feel. They aren’t the most attractive boots, but they are perfect for an early morning walk around the property. Then I put on a thin, long-sleeved sweater and wrap my favorite pale pink scarf around my neck. After I put on a hat and my jacket, I’m ready to brave the cold. But before I step outside, I run over to the computer again. In all the excitement, I had completely forgotten to check on my sales and book downloads. I’m not expecting much, but every sale is a small victory. I’m still in shock that anyone is interested in the story that I have to tell, let alone are paying me to tell it.
When the Amazon dashboard finally loads, I almost scream out in excitement. Fifty three sales! Oh my God! No, this can’t be right. I reload the page, but there it is. The sales are legit and now there are fifty four sales. In addition, I also have five thousand page reads! I shake my head, unwilling to believe my own eyes. Is this really happening? I mean, am I really making money being a writer? Is this what it feels like to live your dream?
I can’t contain my excitement much longer and decide to step outside before I wake up Aiden. When I get out to the porch, I let the burst of cold air wash over me. I inhale deeply and savor the smell of the salt water. The ocean is less than a hundred feet away and I stand on the steps of the cottage, watching its slow and mesmerizing waves crash against the beach. Finally, my anxiety and excitement is starting to subside. I’m still riding a high, but the sight of water has always had a calming effect on me.
I walk down the path and toward the main house. I don’t have a destination in mind; it just feels good to walk. Most of the cars that were parked out front are gone, along with the valet people. There are some party favors and empty cans and cups scattered out on the front lawn. Wow, people can be very disrespectful. The Warrenhouses put on this awesome party that must’ve cost them a fortune, and the guests still don’t bother to clean up after themselves. Even in the mildest, smallest way. I toss all the trash that I pick up into the empty garbage pails near the porch. I consider heading into the house, but don’t want to disturb anyone just in case they are sleeping already.
A strong gust of wind rushes through me and I zip the jacket tighter to keep some of the cold out. I bury my hands in my pockets and find my phone. Oh, yes, of course! I completely forgot about it. I won’t lie. I’m kind of a phone addict. I’m usually on my phone most of the day. If I’m not talking on it, I’m texting or checking my emails, or wasting time on Facebook and Instagram. But somehow, I have completely forgotten about it for close to twelve hours. Very impressive, Ellie, I say to myself.
But as soon as I look at the screen, my pride vanishes immediately. I have four missed calls from Caroline and another ten texts. Shit, I say to myself. I scroll through her texts and listen to her messages. Caroline isn’t big on leaving voice mails, so I know that this is important.
What could she want? I wonder. Her first texts ca
me in around one in the morning and the rest came soon after. Then suddenly, nothing. Crickets. Maybe she wanted a ride home. Maybe something happened with her date? What was his name? My mind is running in circles. She came here with the guy she met at the auction on Aiden’s yacht. She has seen him a number of times before, and he has even been to our house. But that doesn’t mean that he’s completely trustworthy, does it? I mean, what do we really know about him except that he has a lot of money and is willing to spend almost a hundred grand for a one night stand? I can’t remember exactly how much Caroline got, but it was enough to pique her interest. Besides, she wasn’t really supposed to see him after the auction, but he made an impression. He asked her out once they were both back in the city. He was genuinely interested in her. At least, it seemed that way.
Chapter 4 - Ellie
When I try to find Caroline…
I walk around the property, feverishly texting her. I don’t bother to wait for her to answer and call her as well. But no one responds. The call goes directly to voice mail and the text goes unread. Caroline is never without her phone. This isn’t good, I say to myself. But then I realize that there may be a perfectly reasonable explanation for her not answering as well. I mean, I’m as much of a phone addict as she is and my phone was just in my jacket while I was busy with Aiden. And then, of course, there’s sleep. She always turns her phone to ‘Do Not Disturb’ once she goes to bed. Otherwise, she wouldn’t get a wink of sleep. All the notifications would drive her completely nuts.
Auctioned to Him 5: Her Addiction Page 2
