Auctioned to Him 4: His Addiction

by Charlotte Byrd

  A few moments after Aiden helps me into the helicopter, it takes off. I look out the window as the city around us becomes nothing but a blur of model buildings. As we get higher and higher, I can no longer make out the people or the cars and all the problems that exist below seem to vanish completely.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “To my plane,” Aiden says.

  “We’re taking a helicopter to the airport?”

  He shrugs. The corners of his mouth form a mischievous smile. “Why not?”

  I don’t have a good answer. I mean, why wait in traffic if you don’t have to, right?

  A few moments later, the helicopter lands on an airstrip. It belongs to an airport that I’ve never been to before. There are runways, but no large buildings for people to gather in like they have in normal, commercial airports. Not far away, I see a plane just sitting there, waiting for us. Aiden helps me out of the helicopter. I’m about to grab my bag, but he tells me that someone will get those for us. Holding my hand, Aiden leads me across the runway as we walk toward the plane.

  The closer we get, the bigger the plane gets. It’s relatively small in comparison to those large jets with three rows across on each side that I’m used to flying in. But it’s also not one of those little Cessna planes for only four or six passengers.

  “Is this your plane?” I ask.

  Aiden nods, leading me up the stairs of the pristine white plane with elegant lines. Inside, the plane is unlike any other one I’ve ever been in. It’s elegant, with luxurious leather seats. There are only a handful of them and they’re big, the size of recliners. Some of the seats are facing toward the cockpit, but others are facing each other. In the middle of the plane, the seats are even bigger, more like love seats and couches centered around a table.

  “Wow,” I whisper.

  “You like?”

  “Is this really a plane?” I ask. “It doesn’t feel like a plane at all.”

  “A little different than flying coach, isn’t it?” Aiden asks with a smile.

  “I’d say.”

  The plane has the unique aroma of a new car smell mixed with lavender. Suddenly, a tall, gorgeous man in his mid-fifties walks up to us from the back of the plane. He is extremely well put-together and dressed in an elegant and expensive looking suit.

  “Welcome, Mr. Black. Ms. Rhodes,” he says. “My name is Gordon. I will be serving you throughout the duration of the flight. Please let me know if there’s anything you need.”

  Aiden smiles at him and asks him to bring us some water. I sit down in a large recliner seat, the size of a La-Z-Boy chair, only designed with a lot more attention to detail. After getting us the waters, Gordon closes the door and we start taxiing down the runway.

  “No announcements?” I ask.

  Aiden smiles and shakes his head.

  “What about all the spiel about seat belts and putting on your oxygen mask before helping the person next to you?”

  “Now, why do we have to listen to that again if you’re so familiar with it?” Aiden asks. I shrug and shake my head. I have no idea.

  “Flying privately is a bit different,” Aiden adds. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.”

  “Hey, I’m already used to it.”

  A few moments later, Gordon comes around with the menus. Aiden orders an Old Fashioned and I opt for a mojito. I know that mojitos are more of a summer drink or something you order when you’re on vacation in the tropics, but I’ve always loved their lime flavor mixed with mint. Plus, the plane is the perfect temperature, warm and cozy, a perfect place to have a mojito.

  “Your plane is…gorgeous,” I say. “Thanks for taking me on it.”

  “Thank you for coming,” Aiden says, relaxing back into his seat.

  “No, thank you for coming,” I say. “I mean, I know you’re going through a lot and this trip may not be something that you need right now.”

  “Actually, I sort of think it’s the exact thing I need right now,” Aiden says after a moment. “Owl has been consuming my life for a long time now. And all the problems that it has been having recently…it’s just nice to get away. Meet some new people. Go somewhere with a change of scenery.”

  Gordon comes back with our drinks. I take a sip of mine almost immediately and savor the moment as its fresh mint flavor makes its way down the back of my throat. I follow up that one with another one, and another one. The drink is stiff and I’m a light weight, so after only a few sips, the alcohol hits me and I feel every muscle in my body suddenly relax.

  “I was talking to Caroline and she mentioned that maybe meeting the Warrenhouses might be good for you. And for Owl.”

  Aiden shrugs.

  “Do you know them?”

  “I’ve heard of them. Who hasn’t, right? They’re a pretty old family with lots of old money,” he says.

  “Have they ever invested in any tech?”

  “I have no idea. Most tech money comes from Silicon Valley. And if they have, they would’ve probably done it through their various accounts and business partnerships.”

  “Well, maybe they’ll be interested,” I say hopefully.

  “Perhaps.” Aiden shrugs. “Though not a lot of people want to jump aboard a sinking ship.”

  When Gordon comes around with the menus again, Aiden orders the tomato soup made with organic tomatoes and an assortment of sushi. I tell Gordon that I’d like the same thing. I’m not particularly hungry and sushi sounds like it would hit the spot.

  We sit in silence for a bit as the airplane cruises through the air without so much as a little ripple or disturbance. I close my eyes and sink back into my seat. This is probably the most comfortable chair I’ve ever sat in. It feels like it has been designed just for me. A few moments later, I open my eyes and catch Aiden staring at me.

  “What?” I ask.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers.

  “Thank you.”

  “Come here,” he says after a moment. I won’t lie, the last thing I want to do right now is get out of this seat, but the look on his face is…enticing. He licks his lips and motions me over to him.

  My knees grow weak, but I manage to stand up and walk over. He pulls me down toward his lap. Then he pulls my hair back and kisses me forcibly, conveying every bit of passion that I feel in his erection under me. He’s driving me wild and he knows it. I lean over and kiss him back. I take his head in between my hands and tilt it toward me. I bury my fingers in his thick dark locks. I feel his hands on my back as his large cock swells underneath me.

  “But what about Gordon?” I whisper through the kisses. It suddenly occurs to me that we’re not alone at all and I don't want to be walked in on in the middle of anything.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Aiden says, pulling me closer to him. He wraps his arms around me, kissing me again.

  “No, he’s right out there,” I say. “Okay, we can kiss, but nothing more.” My words come out mumbled and slurred as I try to extricate myself a little bit from Aiden’s lips without much avail.

  I’m not one for public displays of affection and I don’t like the idea of Gordon walking in on us doing anything inappropriate. Despite what Aiden and I do together and no matter how much sex I put into my books, I have a firm grasp of what is appropriate or inappropriate for me to do when strangers are around. Yet, as Aiden continues to kiss and caress my neck, I start to slowly lose myself in the moment, and I care a little bit less about Gordon, or anyone else who might walk in.

  “Let me show you something,” Aiden says, pulling his face away from mine. He looks over at his seat rest and points to the button in the middle of the panel. It’s red, lit up, and has the word ‘Private’ on it.

  “This button means that Gordon will not interrupt us until I press this button again.”

  “Oh, wow.”

  “I told you. This is my plane, and I make the rules.”

  Aiden moves closer to me. But instead of kissing me again, he pauses and takes off
his suit jacket.

  “I still feel him right over there,” I say after a few moments.

  “Well, in that case, we will have to do something to take your mind off him, won’t we?” Aiden says with a coy smile.

  He turns me around on his lap so I’m facing away from him. Then he pulls off my sweater and unclasps my bra. My breasts fall freely into his open hands. For a moment, his hands feel cool to the touch, but refreshing at the same time. He runs his fingers over my arms and I run my fingers up his forearms in return. They are strong and powerful, and when he moves, there are veins that pop up in between the muscles. Aiden kisses me along my neck, pushing me back to my feet. He helps me out of my boots, and then he pulls down my yoga pants, leaving me just in my panties.

  After he spins me around, I thread my fingers around his hair as his lips make their way down toward my nipples. Shivers run up my spine as a warm sensation starts to build somewhere deep within me. My fingers lose themselves in his thick hair and I only manage to tug at it lightly.

  Without any more ceremony, Aiden pulls off my panties. Now I’m standing completely nude in front of him, in the middle of his plane. He wraps his arms around my waist and gives me a little slap on my butt.

  “You have a fine piece of ass, if I may be so blunt,” he says. I can’t help but crack up laughing.

  “Thank you, I guess.”

  The tone of the moment quickly grows more serious as he sits me back down on his lap, facing away from him. He runs his fingers down my body and I lean into him. The whole world seems to fall away immediately. I’m no longer embarrassed at being naked or worried about anyone walking in on us. Nothing else exists in this moment except for Aiden and his fingers, which are headed toward my clit. He spreads his legs and my legs, which are on top of his, spread with his. His fingers press on my clit and my pussy begins to throb. I feel myself getting wet and resist the urge to pull my thighs back together. Instead, I step my feet on top of his knees and open wide.

  “Wow, baby,” Aiden says, clearly impressed. “Now, this is hot.” If anyone were to walk in on us right now, they’d see nothing but me spread eagle in front of them in all of my glory. But I don't care. His fingers inside of me feel too good and nothing else matters.

  Aiden kisses me behind my ears as his fingers go deeper and deeper inside of me. After a few moments of being soft and delicate, they speed up in rotation. The faster that his fingers move, the more energy starts to build up within me.

  “Oh, Aiden,” I moan. I’m completely wet and my orgasm is going to be here at any moment.

  “I’m getting close,” I mumble.

  “Yummy,” Aiden says, without slowing down his efforts. I feel myself spreading open for him and I clench my toes around his knees. His fingers swirl faster and faster.

  “Come for me, Ellie,” he orders.

  “Yes, sir,” I say. Just as those words escape my lips, I feel myself going over the edge. The orgasm pulsates through me, making my legs go numb and shaking my whole body. The release is so intense that I disappear completely into another world and don’t come back up for air for a while. My mind goes blank and after a few moments of intense pleasure, my body goes completely limp. I think I would fall off his lap were it not for him holding me up.

  “I love you, Ellie,” Aiden whispers over and over again in my ear.

  Chapter 9 - Ellie

  When we get to Maine…

  We reach Bangor, Maine not long after. We land at another private airport in pitch darkness. The only reason I figure it’s another private airport is that we get off the plane by just walking down the stairs and then head straight into the car that’s waiting for us. When we’re sitting comfortably in the backseat with our luggage safely in the trunk, I give the driver the address that Tom gave me.

  “Are you sure you don't want to stay at a nearby hotel?” Aiden asks. I shrug. Actually, I do, but I already promised Tom that we would stay at one of the guest cottages on the Warrenhouse property.

  “It would be rude to back out now. I think they have it all ready for us.”

  Aiden shrugs nonchalantly. I know that no matter how he feels about it, he isn’t going to press the matter any further.

  An hour later, we pull up to a large gate where our driver proceeds to tell the person on the other side of the intercom who we are and what we’re doing here. The gate swings open and we drive down a lush paved road surrounded on both sides by a thick forest.

  “Wow, there’s so much vegetation here,” I say as I marvel at the trees outside.

  “Welcome to Maine,” Aiden says. We continue down the road for some time until the house appears in the distance. And by house, I mean, that is a big understatement. The place looks huge even from half a mile out.

  “Tom said that there are at least ten bedrooms in this place,” I say. “Maybe ten bathrooms, too, but that’s before he lost count.”

  Aiden laughs. “Some people love large homes.”

  “You don’t know?” I ask. I immediately know that it’s a stupid question. I mean, I’ve been to his apartment and though it was definitely lavish and cost in the millions, size was not something that was particularly important to Aiden.

  “I was thinking of buying a big place when Owl first started to take off, but after looking at like ten properties, I started to feel overwhelmed by them. The sheer size is just too much to take. You have to have a big staff to maintain these places, and I don't like having a ton of people around me all the time.”

  I nod in agreement. As much as I like the idea of owning my own apartment, I’ve never given the size of a house in the country much thought. Honestly, I never thought I’d ever have enough money to support a lifestyle that paid for a regular mortgage, let alone something this lavish.

  As we pull up to the palatial house, I’m in awe of how big it actually is. Tom had mentioned that it was an old Queen Anne in design, sprawled over ten thousand square feet and four levels. I never knew that people back in the day would ever want a house that big, but I guess there’s a first for everything. Even though it is already dark out, the house is expertly lit, making it look bigger and more spacious. Even though it is from the nineteenth century, and this is Maine, nothing about this place looks at all scary or spooky. Instead, the lighting is such that it makes it look very welcoming and charming.

  The driver carries our bags as we walk up the stairs. The house has a number of gables and fish-scale shingles. The bay windows that look out onto the water out front are adorned with stained glass. Once we get to the sweeping veranda, which wraps around the ground floor of the house in both directions as far as the eyes can see, I take a moment to look out onto the blackness of the water. If tomorrow is a nice clear day, the water will undoubtedly sparkle in the sunlight. Maine is famous for its gorgeous waterways.

  The driver rings the doorbell, and a few moments later, someone answers the door. I don’t know who I am expecting, maybe Mrs. Warrenhouse, or at least Carrie, but Tom is the last person I expect to see.

  “You made it!” he exclaims, giving me a warm hug. Once we embrace, it feels like I’m the lifeline Tom has been hoping and praying for his whole trip here. I’m glad to be of service. After I introduce Tom to Aiden, they shake hands. While they talk about the flight over, I take a little peek inside. As much as I like old houses on the outside, I find the inside to be rather depressing. They’re often too dark, especially in New England, where every speck of light should be cherished and fawned over. But much to my surprise, the interior of the Warrenhouse mansion does not have the typical dark wood floors, and even darker painted walls, well-worn rugs, and claustrophobic old drapes around the windows. Instead, everything inside is ultra-modern. Some mid-century pieces are mixed in with wonderful contemporary furniture, which gives the house life and brings it screaming into the twenty-first century.

  Sensing my interest in taking a look around, Tom apologizes. “I’d love to give you a tour,” he says, “but Mrs. Warrenhouse is still making final
preparations for the party and she asked that all guests be shown to their cottages until tomorrow.”

  “I understand,” I say.

  “I promise, I’ll give you the full tour tomorrow. It’s quite…lavish.”

  There’s a tinge of pride in Tom’s intonation, mixed with shame. I know him well enough to know that all this wealth makes him embarrassed. It always has. But at the same time, he also enjoys it. More than other people even. The thing that probably makes him shy away from it is that it’s not money that he made himself. That’s the conundrum, isn’t it, though? He wants to be a ‘serious’ writer, someone who writes literary fiction that critics approve of and regular people rarely buy. So, unless he actually marries into money, like Hemingway and numerous other famous authors, there’s no way he could ever live this lifestyle.

  “Here, let me show you to your cottage,” Tom says, walking past us down the steps. “It’s just around the corner.”

  We follow him to the guesthouse, which is just around the corner, except that the house is so big it actually takes some time to get there. The driver insists on carrying our bags there, and I appreciate the gesture because this part of the house is poorly lit and I tend to be rather clumsy. After a few moments of walking through thick vegetation, we reach a craftsman house, which also looks like it has been built at the beginning of the century.

  Though it doesn’t look like much from the outside, it’s quite nice on the inside. It has surprisingly tall ceilings, and it has been completely remodeled as well. With two bedrooms and two baths, a large well-equipped kitchen, and two large bay windows, it is more than enough space for the two of us.

  “I love how contemporary it is on the inside,” I say. “It’s a nice combination of old world and new world.”

  “Me, too. But actually, according to Carrie, this whole style is a result of the compromise that her parents reached. Her mother loves old houses, but her father loves contemporary sleek designs. So they decided that they would buy this place and it would be remodeled and decorated to fit the times. But it still has all the history that Mrs. Warrenhouse loves.”