Auctioned to Him 7: The Contract

by Charlotte Byrd

  “Any questions?” Truman asks.

  “No.”

  He hangs up without a good-bye.

  My mind is still on what I have to do tomorrow as Avery walks up to me.

  “Hey stranger,” she says.

  I turn to face her. She looks radiant. I love the way her eyes sparkle in the moonlight.

  “Everything okay?” she asks.

  No. But it will be, I say to myself and lean down and kiss her. She tastes sweet and lemony. I lick my lips after I pull away.

  “The cheesecake was delicious,” she announces.

  “Do you want to get out of here?” I ask. She nods.

  Back in our suite, I sit down on the edge of the bed and pull her onto my lap. I move her hair off her neck and kiss it. Gently. Softly. She moans a little from pleasure. Little goosebumps form under my lips, and I kiss them away. Her arms are delicate, but powerful. She’s no waif. Her hands dig into the sleeves of my suit. She tosses off her heels. I wrap my arms tighter around her small waist and pull her closer. The feel of her butt on my dick makes my erection grow bigger and bigger.

  I grab at one of her breasts. She responds with a louder moan. I unzip her dress and pull it over her head. I undo her bra and free her breasts. They fall naturally into my hands. She turns to face me and removes my jacket. When Avery pulls my tie over my head, she catches it on my mouth and we both crack up laughing.

  I bury my fingers in her long, soft hair and pull her close to me. I kiss her from her neck down to her nipples. I bite down softly on her left nipple, and she cries out in pleasure. I can tell that she likes it a little rougher. I’m going to give her what she wants.

  I flip her back around on my lap and pull her back against the headboard along with me.

  “You’re as light as a feather,” I whisper into her ear. She turns her head and kisses me hard, pushing her tongue into my mouth.

  She tries to turn around, but I stop her.

  “This is about you,” I say. She smiles, closes her eyes and lets go. I position her in front of my dick, facing away from me and spread her legs open with my hands. She leans into me as my fingers run down her thighs and find her special spot. She moans harder this time. She pushes on my legs with hers as she moves up and down in pleasure. A few times, she clenches her thighs, but I push them open again. She moves up her feet, opening wider. I bury my fingers within her and start to move faster and faster. Her body responds and rubs harder against my dick. The faster my fingers move, the more energy builds within her.

  And then she lets out a big powerful moan. I feel her orgasm pulsate through my fingers and her body starts to shake. A few seconds later, her body goes limp on top of me.

  “How was that?” I ask.

  “Amazing,” she whispers. “I can’t feel my legs.”

  After she climbs off me and lies there motionlessly, I pull off my pants and socks. Now, we’re both naked. I lean down over her and kiss her from her lips down to her thighs. Inside her thigh, I linger for a moment, inhaling her sex.

  “What are you doing?” she asks, closing her legs, self-consciously.

  “I love the way you smell,” I say and pull them open. I press my lips onto her and tongue her wetness. She’s so deliciously wet.

  I pull away for a moment to get a condom.

  “Oh my God, did we use one last time?” she gasps.

  “Of course,” I smile. Relief sweeps over her face.

  After the condom is on, I thrust myself inside of her. Avery lets out a moan and her eyes roll to the back of her head.

  I thrust into her again and again, and we start to move in rhythm. She cries out a little with each thrust, making me swell up more and more, as if that were possible. When I start to feel like I’m getting close, I cradle her head and kiss her hard. I feel her body quiver below mine. Her moans get quicker and quicker, and she yells out my name. Suddenly, my whole body convulses and gets tight. I come and empty myself into her.

  Chapter 20 - Avery

  The following morning, I wake up when the sun kisses my eyelids slightly. I feel the bed next to me. Logan is gone. He said that he was leaving to go golfing with Liam this morning. I look at the time. It’s after ten. I really slept late. I can’t remember the last time I slept in this long! I wrap myself in a bathrobe and make my way to the patio. The smell of the ocean calls to me. After doing a few sun salutations and one very stiff downward facing dog, I go back inside and change into a bathing suit.

  I practically run into the water. Unlike the Pacific Ocean, which can be bone chilling even in August, the water temperature here is much more to my liking. It’s lukewarm, and I don’t shiver once getting in.

  “Oh my God, this is amazing,” I exhale jumping into the waves. I dive under the water. When I open my eyes, I see a school of colorful yellow and black striped fish swarm around me. They nip at my hair and give me little kisses on my hands. I dive down over and over and let the movement of the ocean rock me into a state of utter relaxation. About an hour later, I finally get out of the water, reluctantly, and head back to our room.

  “Hey!”

  “Oh my God!” I jump back a few feet, clenching my chest. “You scared me!”

  “I’m sorry,” Kora says, sitting down on the bed. The room is perfectly put together again. The bed is made. The fruit bowl is refilled. Pillows are plumped. How the maid managed to get it all done so quickly, I have no idea.

  I don’t have a towel, and I’m dripping water all over the place. I head to the bathroom and wrap myself in a towel.

  “What’s up?” I ask, coming back out, It’s only now that I notice that Kora’s already wearing her wedding dress.

  “Oh wow, is this your dress?” I ask the stupidest question on earth. No, she just walks around in beaded white dresses for the hell of it.

  “Yes,” she nods. Kora’s dress is formfitting, strapless and with a long, delicate train. I’m sure it looks gorgeous spread out, but pooled at the bottom of the bed, it looks like she’s drowning in a cupcake.

  “I love the lace,” I kneel down before her and examine the intricate work.

  “It’s all hand sewn,” she says. I expect her to stand up for me and model a little, but she doesn’t move.

  “I don’t want to get it all wet,” I say, standing up and moving away.

  “It’s okay. I’m not even sure if this wedding is happening.”

  “What?” I drop my towel. Kora doesn’t even notice. I pick up my towel, secure it around myself again and sit down on the bed next to her.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, putting my hand around her shoulder.

  “I’m just not sure about this whole wedding. Liam and I have been together for so long. What if it’s the wrong thing to do?”

  “How could it be?”

  She looks at me. Her makeup is a total mess. One of her fake eyelashes is falling off. Both eyes are blackened all around from the smeared tears. In movies, the brides always cry in a delicate, non-eye makeup smearing sort of way, but this is real life, and it’s not a pretty sight.

  “I was just thinking about this all night,” she says in between sobs. “I’m pretty much pushing him into this. And after seven years, maybe it’s the wrong thing to do. Maybe he’ll regret it in a few years and then what? I’ll be even more heartbroken.”

  “So, this isn’t about you having second thoughts?” I ask.

  “No, not entirely. Well, yes, perhaps,” Kora says, wiping her eyes. The back of her hand is dirty and she looks for a place to wipe it off. I guide her away from the lace on her dress and onto my towel.

  “How do I know that I actually love him? I don’t feel butterflies anymore. What if I’m not in love with him anymore? What if I’m marrying someone who’s a stranger?”

  “Well, the one thing you know for sure,” I say squeezing her hand. “Is that you’re not marrying a stranger. You and Liam have been together for a long time. You know him. And you know that he loves you.”

  “How do you
know?”

  “Because I’ve never seen anyone look at a woman like he looks at you. He oozes love for you.”

  “Really?” Kora’s eyes light up.

  “Yes,” I nod. “And those butterflies. You’ll feel those again when you walk down the aisle.”

  “And what if I don’t?”

  “If you don’t, then you can just write them off to something you feel when you don’t really know someone. Relationships are different in the beginning than they are later on. But what you two have is so much more solid and strong. Butterflies come and go.”

  “But what if I never feel them again?” she asks.

  What the fuck is with these butterflies? I say to myself. But I can’t just leave her hanging. I have to convince her, not remind her, of who they are as a couple and how much love they have.

  “You will feel them again when you two do something that you’ve never done before,” I finally say.

  “Like what?”

  “Like when you buy your first house together. Like when you find out that you’re pregnant. Like when you decorate your nursery. Would you like to do those things with Liam?”

  “More than anything,” she says through the sobs.

  “See. That’s my point exactly! Butterflies are just things that happen when something is new. In the beginning, it’s the relationship itself. Everything about it is new. Everything you do with that person is magical, because you haven’t done it with anyone else. And later on, you’ll get those same butterflies when you do new things together. Experience something exciting.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Kora mumbles, wiping her tears.

  “Maybe? Maybe? No, I am right,” I say confidently. She cracks a smile.

  “I think I should head back. The makeup people have their work cut out for them.”

  I nod. She doesn’t even know the half of it. I give Kora a warm hug and watch her walk away.

  Chapter 21 - Logan

  Liam sucks at golf. I don’t know why the hell he has dragged me out here at the crack of dawn to play a round. My favor to him is that I’ll play with him, not that I’ll let him win. I’d prefer sailing. The resort has a beautiful restored, fifty-footer sitting out front. I love the spray of the ocean in my hair and the warmth of the sun on my face. Here, on the golf course, the sun feels more like it is scorching my face as a punishment.

  I’m driving the golf cart. Liam looks ahead absentmindedly.

  “How are you and Avery doing?”

  “Fine,” I nod. Are we really here to talk about that?

  “You seem really happy with her? Is she a keeper?”

  I look at him. Scrutinize his face. What is the meaning of this? But Liam looks genuinely interested.

  “I like her. A lot.”

  “I know that’s not something you often admit.”

  “No, it’s not. But honestly, it’s not something I ever really felt before.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We just have this connection, you know. I feel like she gets me. And I get her.”

  Liam smiles, nods. I turn the conversation back to him.

  “I’m sure that’s exactly how you felt with Kora,” I say. And then I catch myself. “I mean, I’m sure that’s how you feel about Kora.”

  “It was and it is, I guess.”

  “That doesn’t sound too convincing.”

  Liam doesn’t respond.

  “Did you two have a fight or something?”

  He shakes his head.

  “No. Nothing major, anyway. I just don’t know if this is the right thing to do.”

  “What? The wedding?” I stop the golf cart.

  “Why are you stopping?”

  “There’s no one here anyway. What’s going on?” I ask. I’ve never heard him talk like this. I’m not the biggest fan of Kora, but I know that he loves her. Something big is up. Unfortunately, I’m not the guy to handle it.

  “It’s just that she has wanted to get married forever.”

  “I know. She has been quite a nag.”

  “I wouldn’t call it that,” Liam says, “but yes, she has been a little annoying.”

  “Why didn’t you?” I ask. This is something I’ve been meaning to ask him forever. He and Kora have been together for many years. And by together, I mean tied at the hip. They were practically married as is, they just never bothered to have a party or do the paperwork.

  “Why didn’t I what?”

  “Why didn’t you want to get married? I thought you two were solid. You never dated anyone else. And neither has she. Not that I know of, of course,” I say.

  “No, we have been faithful. Very faithful, actually.”

  I didn’t know there was such a thing – too faithful – but okay.

  “I never knew that you wanted to be with anyone else,” I say it in the most polite way that I can.

  “I never did. And I don’t now.”

  “So what’s going on?”

  “I don’t know,” Liam shakes his head. “I guess I’m just scared. I mean, it’s just going to be Kora for the rest of my life. One woman. Wouldn’t that scare you?”

  “Well, yes, of course,” I shrug, “but I’m completely different from you. You were with Kora and no one else for years. And you didn’t have any second thoughts. You don’t want to be with anyone else. Getting married isn’t going to change that.”

  “It won’t?”

  “No,” I shake my head. “Besides, if anything changes between you two and you no longer want to be with her, there’s always divorce.”

  He looks at me, and we both crack up laughing.

  “You’re such an asshole,” he says through the laughter.

  “I’m not the one thinking of standing up my bride on our wedding day,” I joke. “C’mon let’s play some golf.”

  * * *

  After a few long and blisteringly hot hours on the golf course, I get back to the room for some peace and quiet. I look at my phone. I’d like to go for a swim and then make love to Avery again, but there’s not much time. Besides, she’s nowhere to be found. Instead, I sit back against the headboard and do something that I’ve never done before: research the target that I’m supposed to eliminate tonight.

  Don’t you just love that kind of language? Instead of a person, a human being, we say ‘target.’ Instead of kill or murder or assassinate, we say ‘eliminate.’ It’s supposed to make things impersonal, but the people in the government who have created that language are not the ones actually tasked with the elimination. They aren’t the ones who pulled the trigger. They aren’t the ones who have to watch the target’s family gather around and try to bring him back to life. No, to them they are just numbers. Successes or failures. But no amount of detached, corporate bullshit speak is going to make them that to me.

  I scan some articles about Sanchez from the New York Times, The Telegraph and some other uncensored South American newspapers. From the English-speaking newspapers, he comes off a dictator. A strong man who consolidated power based on his control of the military and his charisma. Basically, a fascist. But the Spanish-speaking newspapers are probably more spot on. Ever since he took power, thousands of young people have disappeared never to be heard from again. There are rumors of secret torture camps in jungles. Not one person who has been arrested has been found. The families have given up all hope. The major newspaper from Buenos Aires repeatedly refers to him as ‘The Butcher of El Salvador.” And I know that they do not exaggerate and do not flirt with the truth the same way many American and English newspapers do.

  Fine, I decide, turning off my phone. As much as I don’t agree with political assassinations and as much as I hate my job, I have to do this. I can’t screw this up. Sanchez has to go. And, if I retire after this mission, perhaps taking out this guy isn’t so bad.

  Chapter 22 - Avery

  “Wow, you look…” Logan says, trying to find the right words, “amazing.”

  I smile. He’s actually speechless. I wasn’t expectin
g that, but it’s a nice surprise. I never thought that a man who seems to have everything – he does have a private plane – would be left speechless by an average girl like me. I glance at myself in the mirror. Though, I have to admit, I do clean up nice.

  I’m wearing a light pink dress, which is crafted in organza with panels of lace and tulle. Cynthia helped me pick it out and said that it was perfect because it managed to balance a simple silhouette with feminine drama – whatever that hell that means. Personally, I like it because it’s sleeveless and tight-fitting, accentuating my waist and bringing extra attention to my cleavage. You can never go wrong with that. It’s cut right above the knee, bringing attention to my sun-kissed legs.

  “You look really good too,” I say, giving him a brief hug and peck on the cheek. He wraps his hand around my waist, pulling me close to him, but I press my index finger onto his lips before they reach mine.

  “Uh, uh, uh,” I say flirtatiously.

  “Oh c’mon,” he shrugs his shoulders from exasperation. “You can’t look this good and not let me kiss you.”

  “Do you know how long it took me to do this makeup? I’m not a natural at it, you know. And I just got the lipstick just right.”

  He smiles and extends his arm to me. I take take it and we proceed out of the suite.

  “Look at us,” Logan whispers. “We already sound like an old married couple.”

  He’s right! Oh my God! The idea sends shivers down my spine. He can’t be serious. I look up at him. I expect to see an expression of panic at what he had just said, but instead he seems to be at peace with it. It’s a joke, of course, but then it’s not a joke. We walk the rest of the way to the wedding in silence.

  I love how dashing and handsome Logan looks in his classic fit, light beige suit. The light blue tie brings out his eyes and, after a day in the sun, a bit of his old tan is coming back. As he leads me down the long, marble staircase, I feel like a princess.