"No problem." The girl vanished, leaving them alone.
"You here by yourself?" His voice was like treacle; smooth, dark, and oh that drawl. Silver couldn't place the accent but it was definitely American, definitely sexy.
"I. Um. Yeah." She felt the heat of a blush begin to spread across her face.
"Not for long." He said it with such self-assurance and certainty, and suddenly something about his cocky attitude irked her. This Trev—whoever he was—was obviously very accustomed to getting what he wanted and having women fall at his feet. Well, she wasn't about to be one of them.
"What makes you say that?" she said, straightening up and reaching for her coffee.
"A beautiful girl like you? In a place like this? Let me guess, you arrived on this morning's bus, went to Wardrobe and then came here."
"So?"
"So..." the corner of his mouth quirked in a crooked smile, "you haven't had a chance to be snapped up. Until now."
Fighting the sudden, inexplicable urge to reach out and touch the dimple in his cheek, she took a sip of coffee and tried to think of a witty retort. "And I suppose this is where I fall to my knees and beg you to do me that honour?"
His eyebrow rose again as he ran his gaze up and down her body. Silver could almost feel his eyes caressing her skin, and her face grew even hotter as she realised, too late, what she had said.
"I do like a girl on her knees," he said, at last. "So I wouldn't stop you."
She wanted to turn around and stalk off in a huff, but knowing her luck, she'd trip over due to those stupid heels, and embarrass herself even further. "Look," she said, deciding to ignore his previous comment. "It was very nice of you to buy me the coffee, and what will amount to my lunch, and I appreciate it very much. But if you think I'm the kind of girl who will fall to her knees for the likes of you—"
He was quick to interrupt. "Oh? You think you have me all figured out?"
Silver raised her chin, hoping she looked more defiant than she felt. "Look," she began again, "you're a very attractive man. But you also obviously know it. And correct me if I'm wrong, but you do seem like the sort of guy who would bed a different girl every night—just because you can. I don't care, it's not for me to judge, but I'm not like other girls, and it takes more than a handsome face and amazingly built body to get me on my knees." Did I really just say that? Fuck!
Trev appeared entirely unruffled by her little speech. "Would a whip do it?"
"Pardon?" She didn't think it was possible to blush even more deeply, but her cheeks felt positively aflame with the humiliation.
"I said," he growled, leaning in close to her ear again, "would a whip help bring you to your knees? Or, if you prefer something else, I have quite an extensive toy bag. But believe you me, little girl, if I chose to, I could have you on your knees at my feet within an hour."
Silver took another huge gulp of her cappuccino and wished, not for the first time, that they served alcohol at the Castle. The unsettling effect this hunk was having on her was making it increasingly difficult for her to think, or breathe, or to concentrate on anything but the insistent throbbing his words were creating between her legs. "No thank you," she croaked, and took a faltering step backwards. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "I'm sorry, but I'm spoken for."
His gaze dropped to her bare neck. "I don't see a collar."
"I... um, I forgot to put it on." It was sort of true, she reasoned with herself.
"Pretty big thing to forget. I know I'd be really pissed if I caught my girl walking around without her collar on."
Suddenly Silver saw an out. "Yes, you're right. Which is why, if you don't mind, I'd better get straight back to my—our room, and put it on before I get caught."
He leaned back from her, that infuriating smile still playing on his delicious lips. "You're a terrible liar, you know. You told me you were here by yourself not five minutes ago."
Shit. "I meant I'm here in the cafeteria by myself," she stammered, inwardly kicking herself. "Look, thank you for the coffee and it was... er... nice to meet you, er... Mister, but I'd really better be going now." Without giving him a chance to respond, she picked up her sandwich, turned around and teetered as carefully and as quickly out of the canteen as she could, her face and loins still ablaze.
Chapter Three
"You did what?" Trevor roared.
Travis grinned, entirely unfazed. "I broke into Marshall's office."
"Did anyone see you?"
"Nope. But I managed to get these." He held out a couple of pieces of paper, which Trev took reluctantly.
"Holy crap—you photocopied admission forms?"
"Not your everyday, standard admission forms. Those, my dear brother, are the forms tonight's slaves were asked to fill out. Hard limits, fantasies—the stuff we wouldn't otherwise find out until after we'd coughed up. This is where you thank me."
"There are only five forms here," Trevor said eventually.
"Well obviously I didn't copy all of them. I narrowed it down. Female, up for sale, and, most importantly, limits which dovetail neatly with our own preferences. I spotted O's form in there too, but we both know that our mutual friend is determined to win that particular prize tonight."
"If Marshall had seen you..."
"He didn't. So where's the harm?"
"It's unethical."
"You need to lighten up, Trev. What's got into you? You've been uncharacteristically grumpy all afternoon. I thought you'd be more grateful." Travis pretended to sniffle. "I went to so much trouble."
"Oh shut up. Sometimes I think you're the evil twin." Trevor scowled.
"I prefer to think of it as the more creative twin." Trav chuckled.
"There aren't any photos, damnit." Trev flicked through the pages in frustration.
"Yeah, I was ticked off at that too. But we're already way ahead of the other bidders. And at least we now have five suitable candidates. And their numbers."
Trev noticed his brother's slightly crestfallen face, and relented. "Okay, I'll admit it, you did us a favor here. Thank God you didn't get caught."
Travis was never one to bear a grudge, and he brightened immediately. "But at least a couple of them look promising! Look at this one—only limits are the standard; scat and watersports. She doesn't even mention blood as being a hard limit. Now that's rare."
"I saw a girl in the cafeteria earlier." Trevor sat down on the couch in the resident suite he shared with his twin on the third floor of the Castle. "She was..."
"Pretty? Obnoxious? Bratty?"
"Stunning. Forties Hollywood movie starlet stunning. Her face, her body, her legs... shoot, she was just about the hottest little thing I've seen come through here in a long time."
"Was she wearing the ribbon?" Trav asked excitedly.
Trevor shook his head.
"Did you at least talk to her?"
"Yeah. She has the cutest little accent; a mixture of British and Australian."
"She here alone?"
"I think so. She said she wasn't, but I think she was lying." Trevor smiled at the memory. "And she doesn't know about you yet."
"Aw, so quick to deny your own flesh and blood."
"Oh shut up."
Travis chuckled. "What color bracelet was she wearing?"
"Black."
"Nice. Dungeon is always so all-encompassing. And black goes so well with white." Travis held up his tanned wrist to admire his white bracelet. "So did you manage to figure out whether she'll be up on the block tonight?"
Trevor shook his head. "It was only a brief conversation." He shot his twin a wicked smile. "I got her riled up, though."
"Did you at least get her name?"
"Crap. No."
"Jesus. Do I have to do everything around here?" Travis rolled his eyes. "If we had her name, we could check the forms."
"I am aware of that."
"So did you agree to meet her again? Or did she run away? Is it hunting time?"
"We can't back out o
f the auction now, Trav. And if she's not taking part, we'll just have to wait a couple of days and hope she's sticking around, at least for the weekend."
"I have to admit I'm intrigued. It takes a special kind of girl to rattle you. What was it about her?"
Trev shook his head. "I don't know. She has these amazing eyes. They're such a pale bluey green, almost turquoise..."
Travis glanced at the clock on the wall. "We'd better get dressed, bro. It's almost time for the Meet and Greet. You can point her out if you see her there."
"If she's there, it means she'll be up for purchase, Trav. And she doesn't know about you yet," Trevor repeated, shooting his twin a look.
"Ah. Gotcha. We're gonna play it that way are we?"
"Why not? Gotta keep 'em guessing." Trevor grinned.
"What was our limit again?"
"Seven. At the most."
"And if someone bids on your mystery girl for higher than that?"
"We don't even know whether she's for sale yet. Let's cross that bridge when we come to it."
"Don't forget to check the form for the name or number once we have hers. I'm not spending that kind of money just to mollycoddle a girl—we can do that free of charge all the time," Travis reminded him.
"Yeah yeah, I know. And you make sure you keep those forms well hidden. If Marshall spots them, we're toast."
* * * * *
Silver stood in a corner of the ballroom, wondering whether she should use up her allotted single drink right away, or wait a while.
After her encounter with the blond man—Trev—she had gone to her room and eaten the cheese salad sandwich to quiet her rumbling tummy. Then she had pulled off her shoes, dress and that little wisp of silver thread the Wardrobe assistant had deemed to be a g-string, and gone into the bathroom. She was desperate for a refreshing shower, but didn't want to get her hair wet or ruin her make-up, so she was delighted to see that the shower head was detachable. Once she had rinsed the soap off her body, careful to ensure that the spray remained below her neck, she got back out of the tub and dried off, unpinning her hair to let it once more bounce over her shoulders.
As she pulled the chainmail dress back on, she realised that she didn't have a change of underwear, and she knew she didn't have anything nearly as sexy with her. I wonder if they'll give me another g-string at the Wardrobe. I am not going up on the block without any knickers on. No way. Better head over there before I go downstairs, can't hurt to ask.
She had packed her little purse and was already at the door when she remembered the black velvet ribbon. Taking it from the envelope, she rubbed her thumb over the smooth material, and found herself wondering whether Trev's skin was as soft. Really? You're going to fawn all over the resident Lothario, just because he's the first guy you bumped into?
But Silver knew that wasn't the reason why she had been so attracted to the man. If anything, that had been the only unappealing thing about him. There had been something in his eyes, something dark and enticing, a sense of danger which made her head spin. After years with Mr. Vanilla, it had been a long time since she'd spoken to anyone who exuded that sort of dominant charisma. His incredible good looks were just a bonus; it was the way he'd almost prowled around her which had had her heart hammering against her ribs.
Get a grip, girl. For one thing, you meant what you said—you do not want to end up being yet another little black book entry in rapidly fading ink. And for another, you are here to go to the highest bidder, whoever that may be. With your luck, there's no way it's going to be him, so put your little ribbon on and stop daydreaming.
Yet even as she stood against the wall, watching the crowd of people milling about in the vast, beautifully decorated ballroom, Silver found her thoughts constantly straying back to the man, and what an utter tit she had made of herself during their brief encounter.
"Ooh, hello. You're very pretty." A man had sidled up to her without her noticing, and she jumped as she felt his hand on her arm.
"Do you like to be tied up? Spanked? Would you let me be the doctor and take your naughty little temperature?"
Silver repressed a shudder, sidling out of his grasp as subtly as possible. "Sorry, I'm waiting for someone."
"Doesn't matter. Besides, I see you're one of the auction slaves, so if I want to, I can make you mine for the next two days. Good thing I brought my check book."
To her immense relief, Silver spotted Rosa across the room. "Ah, there's my friend now," she gabbled, tugging her skirt down and setting off as quickly as she could. "Perhaps I'll see you later."
He shot her a grin. "A whole lot more of me, I hope."
Rosa said no bloody trolls, she swore under her breath as she stalked through the crowd of people. If that guy bids on me, I'll—
"Hey there. I was just on my way to rescue you."
Silver stared at the man she had walked right into, going scarlet as she realised it was the guy from the café. "That's very kind but I'm perfectly able to take care of myself," she said snippishly, noticing that he had changed into a prohibition gangster-style suit and, if anything, looked even more gorgeous than he had earlier.
"I can see that." He smiled, revealing a set of perfectly straight, white teeth. Silver's breath caught as she had a sudden image of him sinking those teeth into her neck. What is wrong with me?
"I was actually on my way over to speak to my friend."
"And who's your friend, sweetheart?"
"Rosie. Over there." She pointed.
"She looks kinda busy."
He was right, Rosa was currently having an animated discussion with someone, and Silver hesitated, torn between the desire to run to her friend for safety and not wanting to interrupt her.
"So, I see you're for sale." He reached out a finger and stroked the ribbon around her throat.
The throbbing between her legs was growing, and Silver shivered at his touch, despite herself. "Why?" she asked, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. "You buying?"
"Perhaps. If I see something I like."
The way he said it, the way his eyes were devouring her as he said it, that single fingertip still tracing the velvet on her skin...
"Er, where's the bar?" she blurted out, desperate to break the spell.
"I can take you, if you like. Have you had a drink yet today?"
"Only coffee."
"Of course." She almost groaned as his finger left her throat. "Come on then."
Silver trotted obediently at his heels like a loyal little puppy dog, inwardly cursing herself all the way. So much for playing hard to get. You're just like all the other girls after all, damn you. The first man to touch you since Stephen, and you're practically climaxing in public.
"What's your poison?" Trev moved aside once they had reached the bar, allowing her to speak directly to the bartender.
"Wait," the girl said, "hold your arm under this."
"What's that?" Silver asked, as a scanner was run over her wrist.
"She's checking to make sure you haven't had any drinks yet today. Can't have you taking leave of your senses." Reaching out, he took a lock of her hair and twirled it casually. "Very pretty."
"Thank you. Um. Can I have a glass of red, please? Merlot? Or maybe a Pinot if you have it?" Silver stammered to the girl behind the bar, trying to ignore the little jolts of electricity his touch was shooting directly to her scalp.
"Which do you prefer? We have both."
"Pinot, please."
The glass, when it arrived, was disappointingly small. "That's it?"
"You shoulda ordered something stronger," he said with a grin.
"Like?"
"A Long Island iced tea. Lots of bang for your buck there, in every sense of the word."
"This is fine, thank you." Silver let the girl stamp her arm and took a deep, grateful swallow, wondering how the hell she was meant to get through the evening sober.
"Well they wouldn't want you barfing up on stage," Trev said, as though he could read her min
d.
She chuckled. "Barfing. So American."
"Why? What do you call it?"
"We have lots of words for it, but barfing isn't one of them. Puking is probably one of the most common expressions." Well isn't this a sexy conversation, she thought ruefully. It was a moment before she realised that he was staring at her. "What?"
"You have such an adorable accent," he said slowly, "I was just wondering what you sound like when you're begging to be allowed to come."
Silver nearly dropped her precious wine. Breathe. Fucking breathe!
"Do you have a name?"
"S-silver."
"Pretty. Like your hair," he mused, once again reaching out to gently tug one of the strands closest to her breast.
"And you?" she croaked, desperately trying to regain some self-control. "I never caught your name."
"You can call me whatever you like, baby. Trevor, Sir, Master, Daddy." He shrugged. "Shoot, you could probably call me Dickwad and it would sound hot in that accent."
"Shall we try it?"
"Feel free." His eyes narrowed suddenly and her heart dropped into her stomach. "But there would be consequences if you did."
He's like a predator, she decided, and I'm the prey. This is how a zebra feels when it realises a lion has just spotted it. Only I very much doubt that the zebra would be creaming itself at the same time. "Consequences?" She was careful to keep her voice as casual as possible, desperate not to belie her arousal.
He gestured around him. "We're in a BDSM club, sweetheart. You're a little subbie girl, I'm a sadist and a Dominant. What do you think the consequences would be if you insulted me?"
She forced herself to focus on the drink in her hand rather than the pulse beating directly between her thighs. "A spanking, I suppose," she muttered.
"Wrong." He chuckled before leaning in to whisper, his breath warming her ear. "Only good girls get spanked."
Before she could respond, the screech of a microphone being switched on had everyone turning their heads.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the first ever Castle charity auction is about to begin," said a deep, masculine voice. "Please make your way to the central ballroom, and if the slaves themselves could come directly to the stage, that would be great. Those who are bidding, make sure you have your paddles."
When The Gavel Falls (Masters of the Castle) Page 7
