by Dani Wyatt
I’ve never been so daring, letting him put his hand under my dress, touch me, make me taste myself…I’m not a helpless girl, but I’m not experienced either.
In fact, I’m not experienced at all outside of a few kisses and some amateur over-the-clothes fumbling at a couple parties after graduation, which was at best awkward and at worst gag-inducing.
But with Martel? I can’t explain it, my heart and my ovaries feel like they’re running the show and I’m just along for the ride.
And what a ride it could be if what I felt at the brush of his fingers on the outside of my panties is any indication.
I fill out a little form at the check-in table as Martel has to go backstage and get ready for the auction. I get my little numbered paddle to use for bidding and find an empty seat at one of the many round tables in front of the stage, with a runway extending off the front. The Christmas decorations, draped on everything that doesn’t move, make me feel the holiday I thought I missed is still here and I feel content. I don’t know anyone, most of these people live lives I’ve only read about in books or imagined from afar. Yet, something about Martel makes me feel beautiful, like I belong.
His unusual mixture of that beard, his otherworldly size, his gruff manner and yet a confidence as well as a perfectly-tailored suit, makes him wildly sexy. I know so little about him, I shouldn’t be letting some near stranger put his hand up my dress.
But, if I’m being honest, I wanted so much more than just his hand…
The room fills and I settle in as the lights flash on and off and there’s an announcement the auction is about to begin.
My palm is sweaty as I hold the little paddle with my number on it, waiting for my opportunity to bid. I get the lay of the land as the first few bachelors are auctioned off to laughter and squealing yelps from what I imagine are friends and family in the crowd.
A few bachelors later, my belly flips as Martel comes onto the stage. I feel like he’s looking right at me, like we have some secret between us, and it only fuels the already out of control lust he’s awakened inside of me.
The bidding begins and I flash my paddle high, getting the first bid and wondering for a moment if I’ll be the only one.
Nope.
As quick as lightning, a leggy, raven-haired woman that’s sitting at the table just in front and to the left, raises her paddle. The auctioneer’s voice prattles on, taking another bid from somewhere behind me, another to the far right, then another from the Elvira lookalike in front of me before I can get back into the mix.
I glance at Martel, whose eyes narrow, lips tight, urging me on, and I raise my paddle again.
We are at ten thousand dollars in under thirty seconds, and I know Martel told me to bid until I win but there’s a tightness in my chest, unsure if he realized how much this was going to cost him.
With the ten thousand he’s already given me, that’s twenty thousand dollars he’s spent on tonight. Just how much is he willing to throw away on a fake date with a girl from the wrong side of the tracks?
There’s a flurry of bidding and I do what I think is right, trying to keep up until the contest falls to two bidders.
Me and Elvira.
My confusion and disorientation quickly turns to something else.
Jealousy?
Why is she so intent on winning this date? Who is she? Does he know her?
My claws seem to be growing as I look at the side of her face, her jaw tight as I outbid her every time, wondering if she’s going to turn around to check out the competition, but she doesn’t.
Twenty-eight thousand.
I need to stop. I’m sure Martel didn’t know it would go so high. This is going to backfire. I’ll end up paying it off until I’m ninety or something.
He said win at all costs.
The taste of my arousal still lingers on my lips and it fuels my conflicted need to win. Not just because it’s what Martel wants, what he paid me to do, but because it’s what I want.
What I need.
Back and forth. Back and forth, the auctioneer points to each of us as I see her cheeks flame red and her jaw clench tighter and tighter.
How high will she go? How long can this last?
My heart is speeding, my throat tight and my mouth dry, but I will not back down. I don’t know who she is, but if it takes a cat fight, I’m down.
Fifty thousand.
The auctioneer looks my way…I raise my paddle.
His voice booms in the grand hall. “Fifty thousand dollars to the lady. Can I get fifty-two? Fifty-two, fifty-two anyone?”
He nods toward the other woman, who starts to raise her paddle when…the older gentleman sitting to her right reaches over and pushes her arm down.
“Daddy!” I hear her hiss. “I want to win.”
“That’s enough.” He shakes his head, holding her paddle hand in place. “My money. My rules. You’re done.”
I watch her pout and sniff, dropping her paddle to the floor and crossing her arms.
“Once, twice…” The tuxedoed auctioneer waves his hand toward the crowd before knocking the wooden mallet on the podium. “Sold. The winner! With the highest bid of the evening, fifty thousand dollars for Mr. Martel Kozlov!”
The crowd erupts in applause, the people sitting around me nod in acknowledgment in my direction while they clap, and finally the woman with the jet-black hair turns around as a spotlight ignites above my head, showing the audience the winner.
I shrug at her glare with a half-grin, but she rolls her eyes, snapping her tongue in her cheek, then pushes her chair back and stomps down the aisle and out of the hall.
I win, I win, I win. There’s a lot of gloating going on inside my head.
Until…
I realize, I don’t know what to do now. I’ve won the date, but this was all supposed to be tit for tat. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.
But, that was before the hallway. Before the fingers and the lips and…
I flush, excusing myself as I work my way down the row of seats and into the aisle, making my way in haste toward the ladies’ room.
Once inside, I sequester myself in a stall, my heart racing, wondering how I got myself here. All the confidence I managed earlier seems to fall away. I’m out of my depth. This morning, I was scraping together change to make sure I had enough gas to get here.
Now, I’ve been paid ten grand to bid on a stranger and I’m not even sure what to do next. All of a sudden, I don’t want the date. I just want out.
At least, that’s what I’m telling myself as I slink back toward the event hall, planning to pay my bid and disappear back into the night. After all, Martel told me I had to win the date, not go on the date…so technically, I’m still keeping my word.
There’s a tightness in my center as I come around the corner and make my way toward the table where there’s a short line for bidders to settle up.
As I approach, my throat tightens, and a cold chill covers me. There at the table is Elvira, leaning down talking to an older woman with a perfectly-cut onyx-black bob and a sparkling-silver gown, both of them giving me the stink eye as I approach.
When I get to the table, the woman who bid for Martel stands, her arms crossed again, eyeing me up and down as the older woman meets my eye.
“You’re here to pay your bid?” Her eyes are flat, her brows higher than should be possible as I step forward, retrieving the black debit card Martel gave me from my clutch.
“Yes. My bidder number was 43. I won lot 12,” I answer, handing her the card. She takes it, her eyes not leaving my face.
“Lot twelve!” The girl cackles.
“And your name, dear?” The woman’s voice hints at a forced friendliness. Like she’s waiting to hear my name before she decides if she loves or hates me.
“Bria Driscoll,” I answer, pressing my lips together as I look at the woman’s perfect red lipstick. She and the other girl have the most vivid green eyes, and the shape of their faces hint at a ma
ternal connection.
“May I see your invitation?” She looks down at the card in her hand.
Heat rises in my cheeks. “Invitation? I don’t have…” My eyes dance between the two women.
“I’ll need your invitation. As well, I’ll need the zip code associated with the card in order to put it through.” The woman seems to have made her decision and it’s clear, she doesn’t love me.
“I..I—” My eyes flick between them, then toward the people around me, who now all seem to be watching.
“We should call security,” the girl standing behind her chirps, holding her lips in a thin smile.
“You’re not calling security.” A deep voice from my left makes me jump. “And you know you don’t need a fucking invitation or a zip code to run that card.”
My mouth opens but no sound comes out as I glance between the three of them. I came into this evening with my head held high and I intend to leave the same way. With Martel standing next to me, I cinch my brows together and lean forward, connecting my eyes with the woman holding the card.
“Just run it. I believe the winning bid was fifty thousand dollars. There is no problem with that card.” She gives me a hard stare but doesn’t move, so I slap my hand on the table. “I said run it!”
“Fine,” she bites back, swiping the card through the little machine in front of her.
Emboldened by Martel standing next to me, there’s a flicker between my legs. I remember how he pressed himself into my hip. How his erection felt thick, pulsing like it had its own heartbeat.
He pushed me, touching me like he had every right, and instead of shrinking, of pushing him away, I liked it. There was a feeling of being taken, something I never believed I would enjoy, but when his hand connected with the outside of my panties?
I melted. I wanted more, when deep down, the more civilized part of me told me no.
“Here you go.” The woman hands the card back as Martel slips his arm around my waist, drawing another tense smile.
“Shall we?” Martel extends his free hand toward the open doors of the auction hall, where the bidding seems to have concluded and a band is beginning to play. As we approach the doors, he stops, pulling me forward, taking a long look back at the table where eyes are still pinned to us. “Don’t worry about them.”
“I’m not worried about anyone,” I answer, looking up at him and realizing just how big he is. His beard moves as he bites into his bottom lip.
“Good, because it’s time to start our date.”
Before I can answer, his lips are on my neck again and all the breath left in my lungs expels, my hands swoop up and around his shoulders. The last thing I see as I feel his tongue trace up toward my ear is the two women at the table staring, as Martel’s free hand reaches around and grabs my ass.
Chapter 7
Martel
Jesus, she is perfection.
Not just how she looks but the way she takes no shit. Not from me.
Or from fucking Tabitha and her royal bitch of a mother.
Their inflated sense of self-importance took a hard knock from Bria, and pride swelled in my chest watching her smack her hand on the table.
“Come with me.” I grab her hand and pull her back into the ballroom where people are starting to dance and a long buffet table is now filled with food. The scent of prime rib swirls in the air as Bria follows me between the round tables, as I nod at greetings as we go.
“Where are we going?” Her voice is unsure.
“I want you to meet someone.”
I tighten the possessive grip on her hand as my balls throb, feeling like they weigh ten pounds, hanging low between my legs.
“Well.” My mother gives Bria a puzzled look as we approach the table where she and my grandfather are seated with Roan standing behind her with a smirk. “This is the winning bidder?”
“Bria.” I pull her closer next to me and extend my arm toward my grandfather. “I want you to meet Mikhail Ostrovsky, my grandfather and the guest of honor for this evening’s event.”
“Nice to meet you.” She reaches out and takes his hand. “I saw your picture on the banner when I came inside. Guest of honor.” She gives him a playful smile.
“Pleasure is mine.” He gives her a long look, then back to me. “Looks like there’s a little Christmas magic in the air.”
“I’m Martel’s mother.” My mother extends her hand. “Sonya Kozlov.”
She says her name like it’s carved into a monument somewhere.
“Bria Driscoll.” Bria extends her hand to my mother, who turns hers knuckles-up, with her gigantic wedding ring upward like Bria is supposed to kiss it.
“I don’t believe I’ve heard of any Driscolls before. Have you recently relocated here? Do you have family?”
Bria opens her mouth to answer but I release her hand and slip it around her waist, cutting my mother’s condescending interrogation short. “I just wanted to introduce you to the winning bidder, Grandpa. You’re the only reason I’m here.” I give my mother a sour look but then Bria stiffens next to me and I hate that she’s uncomfortable. Only, a second later, when she starts to speak, I realize it’s not discomfort, it’s something else.
“I’m sure you haven’t heard of my family.” Her shoulders shift back and I swear she’s an inch taller next to me as she continues. “My father worked at the Lincoln Park steel mill until a few years ago. I live on Pines Ave. I have since I was a little girl. I’m here for Martel. He asked me to come.”
My mother looks like she’s seen a ghost and my grandfather is grinning from ear to ear.
“Looks like Christmas brought you a very special present this year.” Roan chimes in as my grandfather gives me a wink.
I look to Roan who gives me a quick salute, steps around the table and extends his hand to Bria. “I’m Roan.” He tips his head my way. “Known this mess of maleficence since he was nine. He’s a lot of bark and some bite. But, I get the feeling you’ll be able to handle him.”
“That’s enough.” I look at my friend who smiles and steps back. I take a deep breath, meeting my Grandfather’s eyes. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Grandpa.” I then shift my gaze to my mother, giving her a look that tells her she better behave. “Mother.” I nod as she settles back in her chair with a thin-lipped frown. “Bria and I are starting our date. Tonight.”
I don’t wait for a reply. I guide her back through the hall and to the elevator.
“Wait a second.” She stalls, turning my way before the doors open. “What’s happening here?”
“You won a date with me. So, we’re on a date.”
“Yeah, but I won the date. So, don’t I get to decide when and where said date occurs?”
I shake my head. “Nope.” The elevator doors open and I hustle her inside before anyone else can join us. “I didn’t say anything about you making any decisions.”
Her mouth is slightly open, a retort on the tip of her tongue, but I need something else.
I back her into the wall of the elevator, take her hands in mine and press them above her head, holding them solidly in my grip, looking down at the brilliance of her beauty. The small silver clutch in her left hand quivers and the sassy grin on her lips only makes my cock harder. The soft, ivory skin of her neck, that leads to the plump billow of her cleavage makes me want to tear the red fabric from her body.
I grit my teeth to gain some control, and as much as I want to do everything filthy to her right here, right now, I need her lips.
Her wide, dark eyes are innocent and seductive at the same time. Her bombshell-blonde hair contrasting with them in an intoxicating mixture, just like her own version of naughty and nice, has me half in love with her already.
She gasps as my lips crush to hers. I hear little moans, and the way her body melts, the tension on her hands pulling down as I hold her steady from above, tells me our kiss is not just business.
She tastes better than I could have imagined. Not just sweet, that word isn’t enou
gh. It’s like candy and sex and the first rush of the most addictive drug ever known to man.
As they say, the first hit is free.
After that…an addict will do almost anything to get the next high.
Chapter 8
Martel
My cock is as thick and hard as it’s ever been as I taste her mouth.
Her tongue winds with mine as more blood rushes into my dick. I don’t remember any kisses before her, and I already know I want to be the only one that kisses her from now on.
The one that kisses her forever.
I press my hard-on forward, and instead of shrinking from it she pushes her thigh between my legs and I can’t help myself. I start dry humping her hip in the elevator on a moan. We make out like teenagers; her chest heaving as we rock into each other and I know I’m making a ruin of my boxers.
Pre-cum is dripping down the head of my cock and my balls feel like they want to burst open, to fill her sweet cunt with a sticky, hot mess of my seed. Her name is already carved into every one of my sperm.
“You make me so fucking hard,” I grunt as I pull back from our kiss, her hands still in my grip against the wall. “You like that, don’t you? Torturing me like a naughty tease.”
She pokes out her bottom lip on a little shrug, but there’s a lust in her eyes that only makes me more crazed.
The elevator dings as we reach my floor and as much as I’d like to spread her on the floor right here and dive between her legs, I have plans in place for this evening and I want her to know she’s way fucking more than a piece of ass to me.
And, hopefully, I’m more than that to her as well. Because I’m ready to claim this goddess. I want all of her for myself forever.
It’s insane, but this is the very feeling I’ve dreamt of but was beginning to think wasn’t real.
“I’ve never been in a hotel room before with someone.” Her voice is breathless as she gives me a shy smile, wiping some of our mutual saliva from under her lip and I usher her down the hallway to my suite.
“Never?”
Alarm bells are going off inside my head. I need to know what else she has and has not done with anyone before, but I don’t want to scare her with some bright light interrogation.