Auctioned to the Spanish Dom [The Spectrum Auctions 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More)

by Doris O'Connor

  What was this strange hold this young woman had over him? She was too young for him, and a reporter to boot. Nothing good would come of this, yet their scene had felt so fucking right.

  Pedro ran a hand through his hair and swore softly. Reaching for his mobile, he clicked it on and rang Scarlett.

  The fact that she answered on the second ring made him smile. The conniving Domme had clearly been expecting him to call.

  “Finally, I was beginning to wonder if I had to check up on you.” Scarlett’s laughter was joined by Slade’s deep tones, and Pedro rolled his eyes.

  “Very funny, Scarlett. Let me guess, you’re all in the office amusing yourself at my expense.”

  “Now, why ever would we do that?” Scarlett asked. “That would be downright cruel. Oh, I forgot, it’s wind up the sadist day, aka Pedro’s birthday.”

  “Scarlett, behave.” Slade’s voice came through. She must have set the call to loudspeaker.

  “Well, it serves him right. The man is forty today. He won’t let us celebrate in the conventional way, so setting him up with our reporter pain in the ass is fair play, I reckon. How is she by the way? You haven’t broken her, have you?”

  “I sure hope he hasn’t, My Lady.” Mike’s voice this time. “I wouldn’t want to have to arrest him.”

  “Sir, you’re all joking, right? Peyton is all right, isn’t she?”

  Pedro’s snarky retort died on his tongue hearing Laura’s quiet voice. He’d had a soft spot for Slade’s beautiful submissive ever since Slade had outbid him when she was up for auction a few months ago. Newly pregnant Laura’s emotions were rather fragile at the moment.

  “She’s fine, Laura,” he said, and even through the phone he heard the relief in her quiet thank goodness.

  “So, why are you ringing, Pedro?” Slade’s voice this time, and Pedro pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “I need a lift.”

  “A lift? Why, what happened?”

  “Nothing happened. We had an intense scene, and she’s out cold. I don’t want her to drop when she wakes up, so I need to take care of her, and I don’t think the club is the best place to do that.”

  “You’re taking her home to yours?” Scarlett’s high-pitched question showed her astonishment and Pedro held the phone away from his ear, and took a deep breath to stop himself from barking down the phone at her. Peyton was stirring in his arms and the last thing he wanted to do was holler and wake her up. The longer he could keep her in her spacy, submissive state, the better. No doubt there would be fireworks when she was fully herself again, though he couldn’t squash the insidious little spark inside him that whispered that they’d established a connection in their scene. If it was enough to make her seek him out once the rush wore out…well he would have to see. It would have to be her decision.

  “No, Scarlett, I don’t take subs to my house, you know that. I need Slade to give me a lift to Peyton’s house and for someone to drive her car up. She’ll want it in the morning.

  “Oookayyy.” Scarlett’s voice again. “And you’re not taking her in your car, because…?”

  “Just meet me in the fucking locker room, will you?”

  Pedro hung up and cut off his friends’ laughter with a swipe of his finger.

  His lips kicked up in faint smile though. Had the situation been reversed, he would have pulled their leg mercilessly for getting soft on their subs, he knew that. Not that Peyton was his sub. He had to remember that. He’d won the right to have a scene with her in the club. That’s as far as the auction had committed them both to. The rest would be up to them to negotiate on their own terms.

  Shifting slightly, he slid his phone in his back pocket and stood up with Peyton in his arms. Still wrapped in her blanket, she was almost hidden from view and her eyes fluttered open and she brought her hands round his neck in an almost panicked move.

  “What…where?”

  “Shh, it’s okay, pequeña. I’m taking you home. You just stay right there, and don’t worry about a thing.”

  Peyton murmured something he didn’t quite catch and then her eyes drifted shut again. Unlocking the door with her in his arms proved something of a challenge, but after several attempts he managed it and strolled down the corridor toward the locker area.

  He gritted his teeth against the few astonished glances thrown his way and positively growled at Jonas when he met him coming out of the locker room.

  “Easy there, Pedro. Had a good time, I see?” Jonas laughed and held the door open for him, but fuck him if the appreciative gaze the other Dom ran over Peyton’s chest didn’t make him want to smash the man’s face in. The blanket had slipped slightly over her shoulders, giving Jonas an unimpeded view of her barely covered breasts.

  “None of your fucking business, Jonas.”

  The young Dom he’d shared subs with plenty of times in the past chuckled and hit Pedro on the back of the shoulder.

  “You know where I am, if you need help.”

  “Fuck off.”

  Jonas walked off laughing, and Pedro swung round to face an amused-looking Slade. He stepped up to tuck the blanket back around Peyton and a quiet look of understanding passed between the two men.

  “I see why you needed a lift. Let’s get this done. Scarlett is looking after Laura, as she’s not feeling too well at the minute, and Mike got Peyton’s car. The sooner we get this one home, the sooner I can take my own sub home. It’s been a long day.”

  Slade swiped a hand over his face and Pedro could see the tiredness in his expression. Ever since Laura had found out she was pregnant, he had gone into overprotective mode and worried over her constantly.

  “Tough scene, was it?” he asked and picked up the bundle of Peyton’s belongings the astonished-looking locker attendant handed him. She didn’t seem to be able to tear her eyes away from the way he was carrying Peyton.

  Pedro raised an eyebrow and she hastily dropped her gaze and went a satisfying shade of pink.

  “I think your staff needs lessons in the proper showing of respect, Slade.”

  Lindsey, he finally remembered her name, flinched and murmured, “Sorry, Master Pedro. Sorry, Master Slade.”

  Pedro ignored her and Slade nudged the girl’s chin up.

  “You’re new here, right?”

  A shiver went through the slip of a girl and she nodded and went a bright shade of red when Slade tightened his hold on her and waited.

  “Yes, I mean. Sorry, Sir.”

  Slade nodded and released her.

  “Don’t let me catch you staring openly at one of the Masters of this club again. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her voice barely above a whisper, she looked utterly miserable right now, and normally speaking, the sadist in him would have gotten a kick out of this. Right now, however, Pedro just wanted to get Peyton home.

  Slade dismissed the girl and winked at Pedro.

  Once they were out of earshot, amusement laced his words.

  “Ah, I’d almost forgotten the simple pleasure of winding a subbie up. Must do it more often.”

  Pedro laughed.

  “You’re going soft in your old age. Before Laura, you wouldn’t have been above dishing out some punishment there and then.”

  Slade didn’t bother to contradict him. He simply looked pointedly at the sleeping bundle in Pedro’s arms and shouldered the door open to the car park.

  Pedro also looked at the way Peyton’s head snuggled into his chest, and he sighed.

  “Point taken. I guess this is not doing my Dom cred much good, is it?”

  Slade laughed, raised his hand in greeting to Mike, who sat behind an old Ford Fiesta, and smirked.

  “You gotta do what you gotta do, Pedro. Fighting the inevitable is pretty pointless. You two have been tiptoeing around each other for weeks. Judging by the state of her and the fact that you care enough to take her home, I’d say maybe you found someone you do finally care about.”

  Pedro chose not to answer that. The thought pr
ocesses were too much like his own, and instead he climbed into the back of Slade’s Land Rover. A comfortable silence fell between them during the journey, and when they arrived outside Peyton’s flat, she was staring up at him with wide eyes.

  * * * *

  Peyton’s heart did a merry somersault in her chest when Pedro looked down. In the dim interior of the car, she couldn’t read his expression very well, but his hold on her tightened when he realized she was awake. Peyton licked her dry lips, and Pedro produced a sports water bottle and held it up to her lips.

  She didn’t even think to question the action, just drank greedily, until almost half the bottle was gone.

  Pedro smiled at her.

  “Better, pequeña?”

  Before she could respond with anything other than a nod, the door opened and cool air rushed into the inside of the car. Goose bumps popped on her exposed skin, and heat flooded her cheeks when it dawned on her that she was sat on Pedro’s lap in nothing but her flimsy black dress and this blanket. She hastily yanked it over her cleavage. Pedro, at least had seen it all, but the man who ducked his head, and fixed his blue gaze on hers, was Master Slade from the club.

  What the fuck was going on? Her slush-for-brains mind couldn’t quite grasp the order of events since she’d passed out from the most intense pleasure. Just remembering what Pedro had done to her sent moisture to her pussy lips and made her nipples harden. Hardly the best response in front of Slade, whose assessing gaze seemed to know exactly what was going on, if that ever deepening grin was anything to go by.

  Damn those overbearing Domly types.

  “I see the sleeping subbie is awake. Do I have your permission to go through your handbag to get the keys to your front door, Peyton?”

  “What? Why would you need? Dammit, I can’t think.”

  Pedro’s silent chuckles shook his big frame, and she did her best to glare up at him. Peyton failed miserably as her insides just went to complete mush at the affection she read in his warm gaze.

  Slade’s deep voice shook her up further.

  “Thoroughly rattled subbie there, Pedro. I’m impressed. Peyton, look at me.”

  Her gaze snapped to his immediately, and Pedro chose that moment to caress her nape. The simple contact sent delicious tingles down her spine and she relaxed into his embrace.

  “That’s my pequeñita.” Pedro whispered the words into her ear, and a whimper of need escaped her.

  “Pedro, I’m trying to have a conversation with your sub here. You’re not helping.”

  Pedro simply shrugged his shoulders, and Slade laughed out loud.

  “Guess I’ll just help myself then. Peyton?”

  What had he asked her? Something about a key, and…. She waved her hand in a dismissive fashion and from somewhere found the words.

  “Yes, do whatever. Nice here, don’t wanna leave.”

  Peyton shut her eyes and let herself drift away, dimly aware of the sensation of being lifted, the deep rumble of several male voices, and then the front door shut and she was lowered unto her own comfortable bed.

  “Stay there a minute. I’ll run you a bath.”

  Peyton nodded and curled onto her side, but the wince-worthy pain in her ass stopped her. Where had that come from? She stretched gingerly and realized that she was sore all over.

  “Ow, dammit.”

  The bed dipped and Pedro’s soothing lilt dispelled some of her rising anxiety.

  “Shh, pequeña, I know it hurts. Up you come and into the bath. It will help soothe those aches.”

  Pedro assisted her to stand, and while heat rose in her cheeks when he expertly helped her out of her dress, she also didn’t think to argue the point. Besides, just having him here to lean on made her body hurt less, which was a most curious sensation, considering he was the one that had hurt her in the first place. Then again, it might have something to do with the fact that the man was just so sex-on-legs gorgeous that she wanted to jump him. There was no missing the hard-on he was once again sporting and the heat in his dark gaze as it caressed her naked body, setting her alight.

  “Sir?” She let her hand trail down his torso, until she could grasp his heavy cock through his jeans, and his erection jerked under her fingertips. Pedro’s eyes lit up in approval, but he grasped her wrist and stopped her from going further.

  “No, tonight is about you, not me.”

  With his free hand, he tipped her chin up and ran his thumb over her bottom lip in a soothing caress that made her want to sink to her knees in front of him. Before she could act on that impulse, however, he’d swept her up in her arms.

  His jaw clenched at her involuntary gasp of pain as her sore back and ass protested. In just a few strides they were in her bathroom, and Peyton blinked back tears. In the short time it had taken to fill her bath, Pedro had worked miracles. The lights were off, and her tiny bathroom was lit up entirely by her collection of scented candles. They filled the air with their soothing scent, and when he carefully lowered her into the bubbles, the first sting of the water hitting her sore flesh was soon taken away by the heat of the water. Pedro put a rolled-up towel behind her neck and kissed her hair.

  “There you are. You let the water take care of those aches and pains and I’ll be back soon with a snack for you.”

  Peyton knew she ought to protest, but her tired and sore body just wanted to relax, so she let her eyes close with a sigh instead. The bathroom door shut and she heard his heavy footsteps walk away.

  She must have dozed off, because when she next became aware of his presence, the water had cooled somewhat, and Pedro sat perched on her bath, holding a plate of some delicious-smelling pasta concoction.

  He smiled at her when she startled and looked up at him.

  “Glad to see you’re back with me. Open up, pequeña.”

  Pedro speared some pasta on a fork and held it up to her mouth. When Peyton opened to protest, he simply swept in and Peyton groaned as a myriad of flavors exploded on her tongue.

  “There you go. Keep eating. I want to see this all gone.”

  Every time Peyton tried to say something, Pedro filled her mouth with pasta instead, and she simply gave in to the inevitable and allowed him to feed her. Besides, a quiet determination emanated from the serious man sat on her bathtub, and after the first few bites she realized how ravenously hungry she was. Pedro offered sips of water in between forkfuls of pasta, and it was only when she had cleared the plate that he put the dish down on the floor and smiled again.

  “Thank you. I guess I was hungrier than I realized,” she said, and his smile deepened.

  “How are you feeling now? Less sore I hope?”

  Peyton gave an experimental stretch, grateful for the bubbles still covering her bits and pieces. Now that her head was clearing, she was all too aware of the intimacy of their situation.

  “A little.”

  Pedro nodded and, grabbing the showerhead, turned it on.

  “I’ve got something that will help with that, but first let’s wash your hair. Sit up.”

  “There’s no need to”—Peyton’s protest was cut off by his slipping back into his Dom mode. One eyebrow raised, he pinned her in place with the force of his gaze and she swallowed nervously and sat up.

  “Better, pequeña. You will let me take care of you and you will not argue.”

  Warm water cascaded over her when he held the showerhead over her, and Peyton bit her lip to stop from moaning when he put the showerhead in the water. She’d drawn her knees up to hide her breasts when she sat up, and the forceful stream of the spray was positioned right at her pussy.

  Pedro noticed of course and brought it closer until the spray was aimed directly at her clit. Instantly that oversensitive bundle reacted and tingles of bliss shot up from that hard nub of nerves.

  “I want you to hold that right, there.” Pedro’s voice strained, as he lifted her hair and licked across her pulse point. It kicked her arousal up a notch and made her forget the aches and pains of her body.
Just like before, she fell under his spell and wordlessly did as she was told.

  “That’s my girl. Fly once more for me.”

  The erotic pulse between her legs, coupled with his fingers massaging her scalp as he rubbed the shampoo in, made sure she flew headlong into another orgasm. It made her drop the showerhead and cling onto the bathtub as she rode out her release, dimly aware of Pedro washing the suds out of her hair and pulling the plug.

  He helped her up, wrapped a towel round her head, followed by her robe for her body, and before her jelly-like legs could give up on her, swung her back in his arms and carried her back into the bedroom. The fact that he did so effortlessly made bubbles explode in her tummy, and she clung to his bunching biceps. He might not be bulging in muscles but Pedro was clearly strong, and it made Peyton feel fragile and feminine, in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

  The care with which he sat her on her bed, unrolled the towel, and proceeded to pat her hair dry brought tears to her eyes.

  “Hairbrush?” he asked, and she wordlessly pointed to her dresser.

  The bed depressed when he strolled across, and Peyton let her gaze rest on the poetry in motion that was his retreating ass. The action meant that she got a full frontal view when he swung back ‘round and her mouth went dry at the sight of his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans.

  “Eyes up here, sub.”

  Her gaze instantly snapped to his, and nerves replaced her earlier arousal as he tapped her hairbrush against his thighs in an irritated move she recognized from the club. She had pissed him off again somehow.

  “You know, pequeña, a hairbrush such as this one makes an excellent torture device. You’re already sore, so do not make me use it. I told you, tonight is for me to take care of you. That”—he gestured to his groin, and she bit her lip—“has a mind of its own around you. It does not mean I’m going to fuck you.”

  His harsh words had the opposite effect to the one he was no doubt hoping for, because her mind instantly conjured up all sorts of delicious scenarios involving that hairbrush. She had no doubt it would hurt, but if it meant she’d finally get him to fuck her, she would gladly endure it and more. Besides he’d already shown her that pain followed pleasure, or maybe they were one and the same when he was the one giving it. She stored that nugget of insight away in the recesses of her brain to chew on in the morning, when she could think properly.