Auctioned to Him 7: The Contract

by Charlotte Byrd

  I look at him. He’s pressing both of his arms against the sides of the doorway and leaning into my room. But only slightly. He’s no longer the cocky, arrogant Wyatt, who I’ve come to find so attractive. There’s another side to him. A vulnerable side. And I find this side is just as attractive.

  “Okay,” I nod.

  “Okay?” his face lights up.

  I nod again. I hate this part of the argument. That transition when one person apologizes and the other person accepts the apology. After that, there’s this gap or space that forms between the two people. The space demands to be filled with some sort of bodily contact, but neither of us seems sure of who the first person should be to make the contact. He’s the one who was wrong, the one who apologized, so I think it should be him. But looking at him and the way that his eyes are asking my permission, it seems like he thinks it should be me. Finally, I take a step forward.

  That’s enough of a lead for him to lean forward and take me into his arms.

  “You know I can’t stand your sister, right?” I say pulling away from him.

  “Yes, I know that,” he presses his lips to mine.

  “No, I don’t think you do,” I mumble. This time, I’m unable to pull away successfully. I struggle a little but eventually give in. His lips taste like strawberries, and his tongue dances with mine.

  “How long is she staying here for?” I ask. I have to ask now before things get more out of control.

  “Can we not talk about my sister right now?” Wyatt pulls at my tank top. “It’s a little hard to get in the mood.”

  “Really?” I laugh. “You seem to be having no trouble.” I nudge him a little pointing at the hard thing in his jeans thats pushing into my stomach.

  He laughs and continues to kiss me. He kisses my neck and makes his way down to the top of my breasts.

  “How long will she be here for?” I ask again. I need to have a date that I can look forward to.

  “I don’t know,” he mumbles with his face buried in my cleavage. “A few days. A week, maybe.”

  I nod. I try to believe him. I want to tell him that it may be months, because she might be pregnant. Who the hell gets pregnant like that in today’s day and age, anyway? How stupid could she be? My mind wanders again, but Wyatt’s sloppy kisses bring me back into this moment. Whatever I may know or not know, I’m not going to tell him tonight. That would ruin everything.

  “Let’s not talk about her anymore,” I say.

  “Good idea,” he smiles.

  Wyatt pushes me back against the wall and presses his whole body against mine. He pulls on my hair slightly as he kisses my neck and my lips. The pressing and the pulling gives me goosebumps, and I feel myself getting wet. After a moment of high intensity, the kissing slows to a more measured pace. It’s like the desperation for our each other has vanished, if only for a moment, and we can really enjoy our time together.

  But then Wyatt pulls away. His face has a very serious expression on his face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Why did you stop?”

  “I’m just not sure what all of this is going to do to our agreed upon friendship.”

  I don’t even wait a second to answer. “Nothing. It’s going to be good for it.”

  “Really? Are most friendships improved with jumping into bed together?” His lips are forming into a coy, little smile. I realize that he’s joking. Making fun of me. Teasing me, even.

  “What do you want me to say?” I ask.

  “Nothing,” he shakes his head. He’s back to the cocky, arrogant guy I first laid my eyes on. “The ball’s in your court.”

  Fuck! I don’t want the ball. I want him to push me down and have his way with me. I want to just be taken over by feelings and pleasure without any of the responsibility of owning my feelings or decisions. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

  “What are you going to do, Brielle?” Wyatt mocks me. “Are you going to ask me to stay a little longer? Or are you going to play by the rules?”

  He’s joking and making fun, but I know that his heart will be broken if I say I want to play by the rules. Stupid rules of friendship. Why did I put that in place anyway?

  “And what if I asked you to leave?” I ask licking my lips. He stares at them as if he can’t look away.

  “Then I’ll leave,” he says quietly.

  “You promise?” I ask.

  He cracks a smile. Who’s going to give in first? I don’t really care as long as it’s someone.

  “Please ask me to come in,” he finally whispers.

  I can’t believe it! I’ve actually got him to do it!

  “You’re such a pushover,” I laugh.

  “No, not at all,” he wraps his arms around me. “I just want you a lot.”

  Wyatt’s lips are soft and irresistible. He holds me tight against his hard body, and we float over to the bed. I don’t even know how it’s possible, but it feels like floating even though he’s still completely in a cast.

  His hands travel over my body, and I moan softly. There are no more rules to be break – all of them have already been broken. No, all of them are about to be broken. And that’s okay.

  He strokes and kneads my thighs and they open up for him as if they were petals of a flower at sunrise. I get flushed with lust.

  His hands pull my tank top over my head and allow my breasts to fall out. Wyatt grabs one with his hand and puts the other into his mouth. It feels like an electric current is running through me, making it impossible to concentrate on anything but this moment. Suddenly, the current focuses itself on the lower part of my body.

  Wyatt’s tongue starts to move his way down my body in endless circles. He sends me into a spiral of pleasure. I groan and buckle against him. I move my hands down his rock hard body and discover that he’s already naked. No jeans. No underwear. I’m not sure how or when he had taken them off, but I’m happy to find his hard cock straining for me.

  I grip his cock and start to pump it slowly. Wyatt’s hands make their way inside of me and push me to the brink of the unknown. I wrap my legs around his body and push his cock inside of me.

  It doesn’t take either of us very long. A shuddering swell of sensation rises from somewhere deep within me. Wyatt starts to groan and I gasp. I throw my head back and a strong orgasm washes over me, rippling throughout my body and reaching its furthest extremes. With one last moan, Wyatt collapses on top of me.

  * * *

  The rest of the night passes in a blur. We stay up late eating junk food and laughing about every idiotic thing imaginable. He tells me stories of his brothers and how much they had as little kids, and I tell him funny stories of my own sister. I thought that having sex would change something for the worse. That’s why I didn’t want to do it originally. I thought it would make things odd and awkward, but instead I discovered that it only made things better.

  “You know, I don’t get you,” I say. Wyatt is lying with his head on my pelvis, and we’re both staring at the ceiling.

  “What don’t you get?”

  “Well, with other guys, my other boyfriends, they just rolled over and fell asleep almost immediately after.”

  “Agh, Brielle,” he waves his hand in disgust. “I don’t want to hear about other guys right now. Not after that.”

  “That was good. There’s no denying that.”

  “Okay? So?”

  “I was just trying to give you a compliment. All I wanted to say was that you’re not like all of them.”

  “How’s that?” Wyatt turns to me and props up his head with his hand.

  “Well, we just had awesome sex, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Awesome, mind-blowing sex?”

  “Yes, I agree,” he smiles.

  “And you still want to talk to me afterward?”

  “Who the hell have you been sleeping with that they didn’t want to talk to you afterward?” he jokes. “Geez! And I thought I had bad taste in the opposite s
ex.”

  “No, no, no,” I laugh. I love the easiness of our relationship. It’s so easy to joke and laugh with him. It’s almost as if it’s unreal. “It’s not that they don’t want to talk to me afterward…it’s just different after sex. It’s like the chase is over, and now they just want to relax.”

  “Well, I’m not like that,” he kisses me.

  “Yes, I can see that,” I kiss him back.

  “Besides, those guys are idiots.”

  “How so?”

  “The chase is never over,” he says confidently with his head tilted back. “What they don’t take into account is that it doesn’t just have to be a one time thing. One night does not mean one time.”

  I look at him. His face is very serious and stern. Then with a little crack of the lips, a small smile starts to form, and I laugh out loud.

  “Oh I see. So you’re taking the long view of things, are you?”

  He comes close to me again. His kisses me on my upper lip then my lower lip. Then he starts to kiss down my neck.

  “The long view is all there is,” he whispers. “And the night’s still young.”

  He pushes me back down on the bed with one arm and pulls up my nightie.

  “No panties, huh?” he kisses my belly button.

  “You’re going to regret it.” Wyatt’s kisses go further and further down. At first, I try to resist, but eventually I tilt my head back and open my thighs.

  “I kinda doubt that,” I whisper and let a waterfall of pleasure cover me from head to toe.

  Chapter 15 - Wyatt

  Brielle is the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. I don’t know who those idiots were that fell asleep immediately after having sex with her, but all I want to do is stay up and worship her all night. I can’t believe that I’m lucky enough to be with her. It is almost five o’clock when we finally fall asleep in each other’s arms after a long night of lovemaking. I thought I was in shape, but my whole body is sore all over. Not just my cock.

  The following morning, I wake up and notice that it’s almost noon. Brielle is nowhere to be found, but comes back after I get dressed.

  “I made you some breakfast,” she says carrying a tray with waffles, pancakes, and fresh fruit. “I would’ve loved to go out and gotten some bagels and some store bought coffee, but this will have to do.”

  I wobble to her and kiss her on the mouth. My cock has a mind of his own and quickly gets other ideas.

  “Okay, okay,” she quiets me down. “Let’s at least have breakfast first.”

  I sit down on the bed next to her. Man, am I hungry. I grab the top waffle and shove it in my mouth.

  “Last night was amazing,” I say. “I had an awesome time.”

  “Me too,” she says with a wide smile. She is freshly showered and smells of lavender and honey. Her hair glistens in the sunlight.

  “What do you want to do today?” she asks.

  “You mean besides spend the whole day with you in bed?”

  “Yes, besides that,” she chuckles.

  “I want to go outside. See the horses. Say hi to Sebastian,” I say without a moment’s hesitation.

  The expression on her face changes immediately.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing, don’t worry. I’m not going to ride him.”

  “I hope not,” she says. But the gravity does not vanish from her face.

  I put my arm around her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. You just scared me,” she says.

  I don’t understand. Then it hits me. “Just by mentioning the horses?”

  She nods.

  “It’s going to be okay. It was just an accident. Sebastian’s a good horse. He’s sweet, you’ll see. And the others. Well, they haven’t done anything at all.”

  Brielle shakes her head. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “I know. And it won’t,” I kiss her on the top of her head.

  “You promise?” she looks up at me with those big wide brown eyes. They are impossible to say no to.

  “Yes, I promise,” I say.

  Chapter 16 - Wyatt

  Brielle and I got ready to go out and see the horses. After interrupting her in her process of getting dressed and pulling her back into bed, we finally got it together enough to exit the bedroom.

  “Mr. Wild?” Mr. Whitewater says standing right outside the door.

  “Oh, my God, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” Brielle jumps back into me.

  “I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Mr. Whitewater apologizes. “But there’s a woman downstairs that’s asking for you. Are you expecting anyone, Mr. Wild?”

  I shrug, shake my head. “Brielle?”

  She shakes her head no.

  Mr. Whitewater explains. “The woman downstairs is claiming to be your mother.”

  “Mom? Mom?” Brielle rushes past him and runs down the stairs. “Mom?”

  From the top of the stairs, I see a woman dressed in a blue suit and a matching wide-rimmed hat standing in the foyer.

  “Mom, what are you doing here?” Brielle asks. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, of course!” Brielle’s mom hugs her. She then gives her a peck on each cheek, careful not to smudge her makeup.

  “Wyatt, this is my mom,” Brielle says without actually giving me a name. “Mom, this is Wyatt.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Cole,” I shake her hand. Her hand is warm and firm, and her whole way of occupying the room reminds me of one of my favorite aunts.

  “Oh, please, call me Danielle.”

  “Danielle,” I repeat the name to burn it into my memory. “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you. Brielle, why didn’t you tell me that your mother looks like she could be your sister?”

  Both Brielle and Danielle blush. Women always do when I say something like that to them. The only difference in this statement is that I actually mean it. Danielle looks so young and full of life that an unsuspecting stranger could actually confuse her for Brielle’s sister.

  “What a beautiful home you have here Wyatt,” Danielle walks around the foyer. She carries herself with a familiar strength and confidence that reminds me of my mother and sister, but the likes of which I’ve rarely seen in strangers entering the house.

  “This vase, it’s absolutely marvelous!” Danielle points to one of my mother’s favorite vases standing tall on a side table. Its history stems back all of the way to the seventeenth century.

  “You’ve got an excellent eye, Danielle,” I say. “It used to belong to my great great great grandmother who came from Virginia.”

  Suddenly, I notice the strange expression on Brielle’s face.

  “Mom? What are you talking about?” she whispers.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask. Danielle walks to the other side of the room were I doubt she can hear us.

  “I don’t know who this woman is,” Brielle whispers to me.

  “What are you talking about? Isn’t this your mom?”

  “Yes, of course! But it’s also not her. I don’t know. I don’t know why she’s dressed like that. Or how she knows about 17th century vases.”

  “I know about 17th century vases because I watch a healthy amount of Antiques Roadshow,” Danielle says. She either has excellent hearing or must not have been far enough away to be out of our earshot. Brielle blushes.

  “Mom? Can I talk to you, in private?” Brielle asks.

  “No, Brielle. That would be rude,” Danielle waves her hand in a casual manner that I’ve often seen my mother and her rich girlfriends do to their servants.

  I feel the tension between them building, at least on Brielle’s side, and step in to broker peace.

  “Ms. Cole, I mean, Danielle, would you like to join us for lunch? My sister’s visiting us as well, and I know she’d love to meet you.”

  Danielle quickly agrees, and I excuse myself to make arrangements.

  * * *

  An hour later, we all s
it down for lunch – Brielle, Danielle, O, and I. This was not the way that I’d planned the day to go. The last thing I want to do is spend more time with O, who still hasn’t apologized for her rude behavior. And who, I am yet to forgive. But the presence of Brielle’s mother at lunch is quite interesting. I’ve never met this woman, whose life I saved, or rather my money has saved, and a big part of me is eager to get to know her more.

  Danielle makes herself comfortable at the head of the table and talks almost non-stop about how well she’s doing and about her new husband.

  “Luke and I have been practically living together for these last two months,” she says with an exuberant flair that reminds me of O.

  “Luke?” Brielle asks.

  “Yes, Luke. Remember, I told you about him?”

  “Yes, you told me that you were seeing a guy named Luke, but you haven’t really mentioned him for a month.”

  Brielle is steaming. Anger is bubbling up from some dark place within her.

  “Tell me more about Luke, Danielle. What’s he like?” O pipes in. She can’t help herself, can she? What I can’t figure out is why is she doing this? Is she doing this because she hates Brielle? Or just for fun? And what reason can she possibly have to hate Brielle?

  “Oh, my darling, Ophelia. Luke is fabulous! He’s Swiss, and he lives in France. He’s got plenty of money, and he wants me to move to France with him as soon as possible after the wedding.”

  “What are you talking about, Mom?” Brielle’s face grows pale. “You’d just met him! And now you’re moving to France?”

  “Brielle, I know that this seems sudden. But Luke and I are in love. I know that I might seem a bit different to you—“

  “A bit different?” Brielle gasps. “It’s like you morphed into some rich, stuck up princess overnight.”

  “Now, there’s no need to be rude.”

  “Yes, yes, there is, mother,” Brielle says. She uses the word mother in a derogatory way, the way preteen girls on television usually say it. “It’s like you’ve lost your mind or something!”