by Maya Banks
“One hundred thousand dollars.”
Damon stepped forward, his demeanor calm, but determination flashed in his eyes. How easy it was to forget this was a carefully orchestrated charade. It seemed so real. It felt real.
There were a few gasps and more than a few grumbles but no one stood forward to top the bid.
She shook with excitement, with relief. Her keeper pinched one nipple and uttered a command in her ear for her to be still.
“Sold to Damon Roche,” the announcer said.
She sagged against her keeper, relief making her weak. At the same time, profuse joy flooded her. This was really happening! She had to blink to make sure she wasn’t imagining it, that she wasn’t indulging in her fantasy from the comfort of her dreams.
As her keeper walked around her, she could see the smile on his face. Damon walked forward to greet her keeper . . . and to claim his prize.
As Damon approached, her keeper pushed at her shoulders, forcing her to her knees.
“You will show your new master proper respect,” her keeper murmured.
Serena sank to her knees, only too willing to please Damon. She forced her gaze downward, waiting for him to command her.
Damon’s warm hand, so firm and strong, cupped her chin.
“Look at me,” he directed.
She looked up to see him towering over her, strong, so powerful. He stroked her cheek, and she nuzzled into his palm. His touch lit fire to her insides. Her skin crawled with an itchiness she had no hope of alleviating. Only he could satisfy her needs now.
There was magic in his touch. Warm and sensual, it stoked the fires inside her, made her clit bead and pulse with an agony only he could soothe.
Her knees ached from her perch on the hard floor but she gave no thought to complaining or shifting her position. Damon slid long fingers along her jawline before retracting his hand.
His fingers fumbled at his fly as he undid his pants.
“You will look only at me,” he said huskily as he kept his gaze connected with hers.
“Yes . . .” She wouldn’t call him keeper, for she called another man by that name, but she wasn’t sure what he wanted to be called. Master? She didn’t like the word. It sounded silly. Juvenile. Not all in keeping with the very adult feelings and sensations that coursed through her body.
So she settled for a quiet acknowledgment of his command and kept her gaze on him as he reached into his pants and pulled out his cock.
He was achingly erect. Hard. Thick. His cock filled his hand as he pumped back and forth. The hair at his groin was dark, but trimmed close to his skin. She loved a guy who took care of himself down there.
As his pants fell farther down his hips, she could see his sac bulge and flex with the movements of his hand. She wanted to touch it, feel him roll in her hand.
He guided the tip to her lips and gently brushed it against her mouth.
“Open for me, Serena,” he commanded. “Take me inside your mouth.”
She readily complied, and he immediately plunged deep into her mouth. Like velvet on her tongue. He tasted of salt, smelled faintly of musk and leather.
He worked back and forth and she sucked avidly at him, running her tongue from tip to base as he dragged his cock in and out of her mouth.
He stilled for a moment and tapped her cheek with his fingers. Then he tilted her head upward, his cock nearly sliding free of her lips. His gaze warned her as did his hand against her jaw.
She relaxed immediately and let him take over. Let him use her mouth as he wished in the manner he wanted. She was his.
His hands framed her face, and he pulled her closer into his groin. He slid deep until his hairs tickled her nose. A low groan worked from his chest, and her body tightened with pleasure. She was pleasing him.
Harder and deeper he thrust. He held her in place, fucking her mouth with ruthless abandon. If she had feared he would be too gentle, too soft, she’d feared wrong. There was nothing gentle about his possession. He took her with savage abandon, leaving her no doubt as to whom she now belonged.
His fingers crept deeper into her hair so that his hands were tangled in her tresses as he rocked against her. Several times she thought he was on the verge of his release, but it was then that he slowed, holding himself still in her mouth until he regained control. Then he resumed the deep strokes to the back of her throat.
The blunt crown of his dick nudged at the softness in the deepest part of her mouth. She swallowed convulsively, and she could feel the shudders working through his body.
Warm saltiness spilled onto her tongue, just a precursor to his orgasm. She lapped hungrily at it, wanting more, but he stilled and gave her a warning tap on the cheek again. Again she relaxed and relinquished control to him.
“I’m close, Serena,” he said. His voice slid like silk over her ravaged senses. “I want you to swallow it all. Drink from me. Taste my pleasure.”
She closed her eyes as his erotic words flickered over her hungry body. So hungry. She wanted him. Needed him like she’d never needed anyone else.
His thrusts became more urgent. Less measured and less controlled. He pounded against her mouth without mercy and still she wanted more. All of him. Nothing less.
The first jet of his release hit the back of her throat like a shock. For a moment she held it in her mouth, unable to swallow fast enough in her surprise. More spilled onto her tongue. Creamy and exotic. Wild tasting. Masculine and strong.
As she swallowed, he continued to work in and out of her mouth, his movements more gentle now as the last of his orgasm quivered through his loins. He sank to the back of her throat once more and stayed there, locked against her mouth.
“Swallow,” he said in a guttural voice. “Swallow against me, Serena.”
She obeyed, swallowing and listening to his moans of pleasure as she milked the last drops of his cum from his cock.
Finally he slid from her mouth and loosened his grip on her head. He gazed down at her, warm approval glistening in his eyes. With one thumb he wiped a trickle of his seed from the corner of her mouth and then slid it inside her mouth.
Dutifully she licked his thumb clean and he withdrew it. He reached down to grasp her shoulders and helped her to her feet. Her hands were numb behind her, but she offered no complaint as she stood before him.
He fingered one nipple and a soft moan escaped her. Then he plucked at the other, manipulating the bud until she shook from head to toe. He cast a pointed glance at her keeper, who then stepped behind her and grasped her shoulders in firm hands.
Her muscles twitched in anticipation as Damon’s hands trailed down her body to the curls between her legs. There wasn’t a word to describe the pleasure, the sharp agony, that tightened her body.
Carefully he breached the folds of her femininity with one finger. It glided easily over her slick flesh, over her clit and to the opening below.
When her keeper’s hands slid over her shoulders and to her breasts, cupping them and tweaking the nipples, her knees threatened to buckle. He held her tight as Damon delved deeper between her legs.
“Do not let her fall,” Damon cautioned her keeper.
His fingers slid over her clit, massaging and manipulating the bundle of nerves.
“You will come for me, Serena.”
Oh God, yes, she would come for him. She tried to breathe, but it was like inhaling fire. The air scorched her lungs, burned her chest.
Harder and faster he worked her clit and then moved lower to her entrance, where he teased her mercilessly.
“Do you fantasize about having my cock buried inside you?” Damon asked silkily.
“Yes,” she gasped. “I want it more than anything.”
He smiled and increased the pressure of his fingers.
“Soon, Serena. Soon you will have all of me. For now I want you to come with your keeper holding you for me, for it is the last time another man will ever touch you without my consent. You are mine now.”
Hi
s words more than his touch sent her orgasm racing through her groin. It was frightening and splendid in equal parts as she shattered. Her keeper’s hands were firm around her as she bucked and writhed. Her knees threatened to buckle but Damon’s free hand shot out to hold her upright.
When the last waves of her orgasm broke around her, Damon ordered her keeper to release her. There was a formality to his actions as he saw to the change in ownership. She listened numbly as Damon thanked her keeper for his care and promised to be a good master to her.
Her hands were still tied behind her back as Damon gently led her away. Dozens of male eyes followed her, their stares envious as they watched Damon take her from the room.
He stopped outside the doorway and tugged at the ropes around her hands. As her arms fell free, he reached down and took both hands in his then raised them to his lips. He kissed the red circle of flesh around her wrists and soothed the numbness away with tender fingers.
There was a robe thrown over a chair situated in the hall, and he picked it up. Carefully he wrapped it around her, helping her to put her arms in the sleeves. Then he secured the tie so that every part of her body was covered and she was comfortable.
He touched her cheek in a loving gesture and then tucked her securely against his side as he headed for the stairs. As they walked slowly down, he turned to her again.
“You are mine now, Serena.”
“Yes, I’m yours,” she whispered.
CHAPTER 13
S erena felt a bit strange walking out to Damon’s car in just a robe and no underthings. Worse, his driver waited at the Bentley, standing beside the back door. When she and Damon neared, Sam opened the door and Damon directed her inside.
Damon slid in beside her and pulled her flush against his body. She curled into him, fitting perfectly under his arm, her head resting on his shoulder. He was careful to keep the robe securely fastened around her, and for that she was grateful. It was doubtful that Sam could—or wanted to—see flashes of her nudity, but she appreciated Damon’s regard for her modesty.
And then she had to laugh. A giggle escaped her before she could prevent it, and her shoulders shook with the hilarity of her concerns.
“Something amuses you?” Damon queried.
“I’m such a moron,” she said. “I was all worried about walking outside in just a robe and was so grateful that you were so careful to shield my nudity from Sam when I just spent the last half hour completely naked in a roomful of men. My absurdity knows no bounds.”
“You are naturally modest,” he said simply. “Once the auction was over, you reverted back to your true nature. I don’t see anything absurd about it. Quite frankly, it pleases me that you are so careful about who sees your body. For the next month, only I and those I choose will be granted that privilege.”
Her heart seized just a bit, and she hid her smile against his chest. It pleased her that he was so possessive. Whether it was an act or what he truly felt, it delighted her.
“What happens now, Damon?” she asked quietly.
They’d discussed it before, but all knowledge fled in light of her nervousness.
“We go home,” he said simply.
“I need to get my things from my apartment,” she said. “Your instructions were to bring an overnight bag but I’ll need more stuff if I’m to stay with you a week.”
He put a firm finger over her lips to quiet her. “First, you’ll stay with me the entire month. The week we discussed was for the time you’d devote solely to me, away from your work. Even when you go back to work, you’ll still return to me every day, sleep in my bed, be bound to me.
“Second, you have no need of your things. While you’re mine, I’ll provide for your every need. I will dress you, feed you, take care of the smallest of details. Are we understood?”
She nodded and then, remembering the whole confusion over what to call him, her cheeks warmed, but she looked up at him anyway.
“What do I call you?” she asked softly. “I couldn’t call you keeper, not when I’d called another man by that name, but neither could I stomach calling you master, because it seemed so . . . silly, and silly is the last thing I feel when I’m with you.”
His hand trailed through her hair, glancing off her cheek with the gentlest of touches. “You’ll call me Damon. I see no need for dramatic titles. I, on the other hand, will call you beautiful . . . lover . . . mine. I’ll call you mine.”
She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, rubbing her cheek along his palm.
“How prettily you do that,” he murmured. “You remind me of a contented cat, so sleek and purring.”
She made a low sound of contentment in her throat as she nuzzled closer to him. “If I could purr, I would, for you are so good to me, Damon.”
“I’m glad you think so. I’ll push you, Serena. I’m demanding. I expect obedience and compliance. But I will be so very good to you. That, I promise.”
She stirred restlessly against him, her skin itchy and alive.
He smiled, an arrogant smile of male satisfaction. He knew damn well she wanted him. Wanted him badly. Still, she voiced it because she was compelled to do so.
“I want you, Damon. I’m going to go crazy if you don’t make love to me soon.”
With his thumb and the knuckle of his forefinger, he tilted her chin, angling her so that her mouth was inches from his own. She sucked in all available air. Would he kiss her? Would he finally kiss her?
He pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. Soft and gentle. Just one kiss, so light, and yet it burned the tender skin. Her chest swelled and her stomach turned over, and just that quickly, it was over.
He pulled away, his eyes glittering as he smoothed his thumb over her bottom lip.
“Soon, Serena. Soon I will have you, and you will have me. Anticipation is half the pleasure. For this reason, I would not want our coming together to happen too quickly. It is to be savored, not rushed.”
She snuggled back into his arms, holding his promise close to her heart. Yes, she was impatient. She wanted him desperately, but it went beyond sex. She wanted his care. His regard. She wanted to be pampered. She wanted to belong.
Exhaustion, spawned by too much excitement, crept over her body. The adrenaline rush had left her and on the heels of her explosive orgasm; she resembled a gelatinous puddle.
When the car stopped, she moaned her protest, and Damon chuckled low in her ear. “Stay still, Serena mine.”
She relaxed in his arms as Sam opened the back door. Damon carefully extricated himself from around her and eased out of his seat. Then he reached back in for her, sliding his arms underneath her body and lifting.
A sigh of contentment whispered past her lips as he carried her up the steps to his house. As soon as they were past the doorway, he lowered her until her feet hit the floor. He turned her around until she faced him, and he reached for the lapels of the robe he’d adorned her with.
Her mouth opened in protest, but he silenced her with a stern look.
“When you’re in my home, you’ll stay undressed unless I’ve chosen to clothe you.”
She stared dumbly at him as he pulled the robe over her shoulders and let it slide down her arms. Air from the vent above blew quietly over her skin, and she shivered. Her hands went to her arms in a protective measure, but he wouldn’t allow it.
“You have nothing to fear from me,” he husked as he pried her hands from her body. He caught her fingers in his and squeezed gently. “You are a beautiful woman, and I have no intention of allowing any of that beauty to remain hidden while you are in my keeping.”
“I have to have permission to put clothes on?” she asked incredulously.
He stared wordlessly at her, telling her in no uncertain terms what he thought of that question.
“Okay, okay,” she grumbled.
“Come with me,” he ordered.
He put his hand to her back and urged her forward. Her bare feet padded across the wooden floor, and whi
le before she had gravitated toward him, to the warmth and security of his body, she now kept a foot of distance between them. Self-preservation.
She wasn’t sure why she suddenly quaked with uncertainty, but now that she was on his turf, doubt niggled at her.
They entered what was obviously the master bedroom. It was huge, a suite. In the center, a king-sized bed rested. It was a mahogany, four-poster frame that dominated the space. Everything else in the room was secondary to this centerpiece.
To the left a large armoire stood flush against the wall. The wood was a match to the bed, in fact, to all the furnishings in his house. Rich, dark woods. Masculine and warm.
“Sit there on the bed,” he told her.
She walked to the edge and perched gingerly, hands clasped in her lap. He moved with grace and elegance that was a contradiction to the rough, animalistic way he’d fucked her mouth just an hour before. He was indeed a contradiction, one that intrigued her. Outwardly he seemed so civilized, so refined. He was the epitome of culture, a consummate gentleman. And yet there was a caveman buried under the polished exterior. A man driven by his needs and desires. A man who quite simply wouldn’t accept less.
He opened the armoire, and she heard a slight rustle. A moment later he turned around, a small package in his hand. Curious, she stared as he opened the box and pulled out a gold circlet.
The bed dipped as he settled beside her, not one but two bands in his grip.
“Turn around and look at me,” he directed.
She shifted and turned, bending one leg and dangling the other over the side of the bed.
“I opted not to use a collar on you.”
Her hand flew to her neck as her eyes widened. She knew of the practice of collaring slaves, but it seemed so . . . barbaric.
“However, I am greatly pleased by the idea of you wearing the mark of my ownership, so I bought these.”
He held up the cuffs, opening one. His free hand trailed up her arm and stopped midway between her elbow and her shoulder. Then he clasped the cuff around her arm, the metal cool against her flesh.
It was a beautiful piece of jewelry. Feminine and thin. Not thick or bulky. It was about two inches wide with intricate designs etched onto the face. And it fit her perfectly.