Hard Bargain: A Virgin Auction Romance

by Haley Pierce

But he wrapped his arms around her neck, inhaling the scent of her, promising himself he didn’t need to go far. He had this gorgeous, full, luscious woman before him. He longed to know her body, inch-by-inch, slowly. He wanted to be introduced to every segment. He kissed her harder, more insistently, and she groaned slightly, calling out with pleasure.

  “Oh, fuck yeah,” he whispered, taking his mouth from hers and biting at her ear lightly, bringing her close. He spanked her ass with a hard, heavy slap, and she cried out, laughing. “I haven’t been able to stop looking at your ass all night,” he whispered, kissing at her neck, her shoulder. “Jesus Christ, what are you trying to do to me?”

  She giggled and pulled herself upon him, splaying her legs around him. She cooed, allowing her breasts to spill from her dress. Her nipples were dark brown, in a perfect circle, and perky. He lifted his mouth to them and wrapped his tongue around the center, watching her eyes as he did it. They rolled with pleasure.

  “Oh my god,” she whispered, her voice catching. “What are you doing to me? What are you—" She leaned back slightly, displaying her perfect collarbones, her large breasts, and her curvaceous, beautiful belly to him as he unbuttoned the rest of her dress and tossed it on the ground. His excitement bled through him, and he hardly sensed what he was doing. He led her hand toward his pulsing, throbbing cock, and he watched as she rubbed him through his jeans. He gritted his teeth before gasping. It had been years since someone had touched him like that, and the feel of it drove him wild.

  Finally, she unbuttoned his jeans and drew them down to his ankles and onto the floor. She slipped her own dress off onto the floor and stood before him, completely naked. The moonlight gleamed on her bare butt, on her breasts, and she swung her hips to the left, watching him watch her. He reached toward his cock, feeling the veins pulse. It was rock hard, mesmerizing to the touch. “You’re so hot,” he murmured. “I can’t handle it.”

  “What do you want me to do?” she whispered, her eyes bright. “What should I do to you?” She leaned down and kissed him ravenously, eagerly. She placed her hands on his shoulders, suddenly nervous about his large, pulsing staff. He could almost see her brain cranking with this new information.

  And at that moment, Tom understood: she wasn’t ready. The fright of this, her very first night of sexual intimacy, was terrifying her. And he placed his hands upon her shoulders and pushed her back slightly, blinking up at her with kindness.

  “I think we should stop,” he whispered. “This isn’t how it should happen for your first time.”

  “But you’ve bid so much money—" Nicole spouted, her eyes looking lost. She turned them toward the wall, embarrassed.

  Tom moved her naked form to the side and allowed her to lean against him. He wrapped his arm around her neck and kissed her ear. “It isn’t that I don’t want to fuck you. I do. I want to fuck you so badly.” His words were quiet, sincere. “But I want to make your very first time very special. And I don’t want it to be moments after we were just verbally attacked by your father. Do you understand?”

  Nicole nodded meekly, her eyes brimming with tears. But, as if on cue, she broke into a smile. “Thank you, Tom,” she whispered. She kissed his cheek and then lifted herself onto her feet, donning her clothes once more. “Do you think I could borrow something to sleep in?”

  Tom wrapped his back shirt around his waist, not wanting to make her nervous. His erection was still rock hard, erupting into the air, yearning for her. He took her hand and led her upstairs, to the bedroom he’d once longed to share with his ex-fiancé. He tucked Nicole beneath the covers of the large, king-sized bed, and as he kissed her forehead, realized that, perhaps, this bed had been waiting for Nicole all along.

  He yanked a fresh pair of boxers around his waist and slipped into bed beside her, already hearing the light wisps of her breath as she dove into slumber. In many ways, this was the most romantic night of his life—and he hadn’t even had the sex he was promised. He didn’t need it to feel so complete.

  9

  That week, Nicole spent nearly every evening at Tom’s farmhouse, sleeping beside his warmth and giggling with him deep into the night, so that it was a constant struggle for him to rise from his bed at his early, four a.m. start time. They’d grown close to having sex with each other several times—had even gotten fully naked one other time, besides the first—and yet, Tom had stopped it each time. He explained to her that he longed for the experience to be special. He wanted her to remember it—for it not to be some drunken fling on the couch. And she agreed, although her body seemed to scream with pleasure and want for his.

  On Tuesday morning of the following week, Nicole blinked awake at the sound of his alarm blaring beside her ear. She turned toward him and placed her hand on his naked back, feeling the ache and pull of his muscles. She crept her nails into his skin just for a moment, without lending pain. She’d read that pain and pleasure were exciting twins in the bedroom, and she yearned to cry out for him to hurt her—to cause that inner fire and turmoil.

  Tom turned toward her after pausing his alarm. His eyes blinked like a child’s, assessing his new surroundings. “Good morning,” he whispered. He leaned toward her and kissed her wholly, his lips full, like pillows. “Do you think you have a bit of time tonight to—have a very special date?” His eyebrows slipped high on his face, causing a bookshelf of wrinkles on his forehead.

  “Do you mean—you think tonight is the night?” Nicole whispered, biting her lip.

  “I think we’re ready,” Tom agreed.

  Nicole stretched her arms high over her head, bringing her breasts, still strapped inside her black bra, to heave upward. They gleamed in the light. “How should we start the night?”

  “I was thinking that, first off, I could send you to the store to get a new, sexy dress,” he kissed her shoulder, causing her to giggle, “and then we could head out to the lake for a picnic before coming back here and—consummating that bidding ceremony.”

  Nicole felt happiness brim within her. She leaned close for another kiss before popping from bed, her breasts bouncing. She placed her hands on her hips, heavy with the realization that this day would change the course of her life.

  Tom stretched from his bed, then. He tapped toward the wardrobe at the side of the room and lifted out a small booklet. Nicole frowned, feeling tension in the air. “What is that?”

  “Just an agreement,” Tom said, his voice deep. He scribbled over the checkbook with blue pen and then ripped it from its case. He swept the paper toward her, without making eye contact. This was their transaction. He was paying for his goods and services. “Oh—" He swept his fingers toward the wallet in his pocket and pulled out a 100-dollar bill. He handed it toward her, winking. “I don’t want the dress to come out of the check. I want it to be a gift. Between friends.”

  “Friends,” Nicole whispered. The word seemed kind, if far away. “All right. Thank you.” She took the check and the bill and stood solidly in the dark, waiting as Tom stepped around her and cranked open the shower door. This was her final alert: the day was beginning. And, perhaps, her relationship with Tom was coming to an end.

  Maybe he’d already gotten everything out of his relationship with her that he could. Maybe he sensed that she was falling for him, outside of their sexual chemistry. And perhaps he’d realized he didn’t want that.

  Nicole dressed quickly, penning a brief note to Tom, explaining she would see him later—for the picnic. She rushed into the driveway and popped into her pickup truck, revving it down the country dirt road and back toward Chrissy’s. During the previous days, Chrissy had gotten back together with her ex-boyfriend, Jeff, and she’d hardly left the house. She’d chosen to cling to him, both body and mind, until they were sick of each other again. Nicole sensed this wasn’t the “proper” way to live, but she didn’t have any better advice. Live and let live, she supposed.

  She walked into the house and sat on the couch, in her previous sleeping quarters. Her purse felt heavy w
ith that 50,000-dollar check. She swallowed, realizing she could race out of town that minute, stealing the money and restarting her life. But her aching pussy told her to remain, to make love to Tom—just to live for the experience, for once, instead of over-thinking it or praying about it.

  When the day finally began, revealing a stunning, throbbing sun in the center of a bright blue sky, Nicole showered and drove her pickup to the local mall, which was nearly 30 minutes outside of her small town. She wandered through the stores, feeling like a lost dog. She hadn’t dressed herself without Chrissy’s help since she’d begun this “sexual experiment.”

  But soon, she slipped a few little black dresses from the racks, pairing them with new pairs of cowboy boots, assessing the way each pair and each dress revealed her curves and her legs. As a younger girl, she’d never imagined that she could care so much what another man thought about her naked body. And now: it was all she dreamed about.

  Finally, Nicole chose a simple, low-cut black dress that highlighted her curves, shoving her breasts to the forefront. The dress seemed to make her curly hair gleam in the night, and she smiled at herself in the mirror, her white teeth shining. This was the last image of herself she’d have before she gave up her virginity. The last image before everything changed.

  Nicole met Tom at his house later that evening, after explaining to Chrissy that her evening was to be her “last” with Tom. Exhausted and strung out from too much sexual activity, Chrissy clapped her hands coolly, her eyes revealing just an ounce of excitement. “That’s amazing, lady. Finally, you’ll be free of this game. And he gave you the money?”

  “He did,” Nicole murmured, leafing for the check in her purse. “I still can’t believe it. We can escape this town, whenever you like.” Her eyes traced toward the bedroom, where she knew Jeff was sleeping soundly, sending snores to echo across the room.

  Chrissy nodded abstractly, yawning. “Sure. Yep.” She brought her hand over Nicole’s hair, gliding it through the curls. “Good luck tonight. I’ll be thinking of you.”

  But now, safe on Tom’s property, she clipped the thoughts she carried of Chrissy’s lack of care from her mind and focused, instead, on the night ahead. Despite knowing this could be their last night together, she craved Tom’s touch, his smell, the glint in his eyes when he joked with her. She flashed a smile as she saw him trudging across the field, a bucket swinging lightly in his hand. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she sensed she could watch him walk across that field for the rest of her life. Why did she need anything else?

  Tom reached her, then, and stopped, his legs spread apart. “Well, well,” he said, following it with a whistle. “What a dress that is. Did you choose that yourself?”

  “I did,” Nicole said, her voice sassy. “What do you think of it?”

  “I think it’s gorgeous, darling,” he said. A warm smile crept across his face and he dropped the bucket at the edge of the porch, sanding his dirty fingers through his hair. He leaned toward her and kissed her supple lips. Nicole felt her breasts warm. Her pussy was wet beneath her dress, where she’d chosen not to wear underwear—just in case things got out of hand at the picnic.

  “I’ll shower,” Tom told her, then. ”And change. I bought a bit of wine for our picnic. If you’d like, you can have a glass on the porch while I get ready.”

  Nicole readily agreed, marching toward the counter and slipping a bottle of Merlot from a brown paper bag. She rubbed her palms together, revving with desire, before pouring the red wine into a glass and whirling it slightly in the air, watching the light glint.

  She hadn’t eaten at all during the day, and as she packed their picnic, she felt too nervous to graze. She slipped more wine down her throat, feeling her brain begin to buzz with the pleasure of it. As she packed, she was surprised—and amazed—to see that Tom had thought of nearly everything. He’d bought a baguette from the bakery, had stocked the fridge with cheese and strawberries, and had even purchased a bit of “expensive” beer for himself from the local brewery. She stocked the picnic basket, humming to herself, and stood with her wine glass and the fully packed basket on the porch, gazing out at the orange horizon. She was ready and waiting.

  Tom arrived on the porch moments later, smelling clean and scrubbed. His beard was scraggly, making him look handsome and rugged, and his eyes were bright, dancing with excitement for the night ahead. Nicole reminded herself that his excitement began and ended with sleeping with her—that once he’d penetrated and had his orgasm, he’d probably knock her to the side of the road and spit on her. Or something. God, she’d read too many biblical texts, she thought then.

  “You ready to go?” Tom asked her. He lifted the picnic basket, making a fake “troubled” face, alerting that the thing was heavy. “Did you pack my entire fridge?”

  “What can I say? I know how to eat,” Nicole laughed.

  “I love that about you,” Tom said. He led her toward the truck, then. Nicole felt herself slowing down, really digging her heels into that moment. She yearned for her time with Tom to last longer. But she’d learned, all those weeks before when her mother had died, that saying goodbye was a necessity. Life continued.

  Tom and Nicole sped out toward a lake about 10 miles from downtown, where the trees were fresh and green and a wide field swept toward a sandy dune along the water. As they parked in the grass, Nicole’s eyelids fluttered with memory. She’d gone to that lake as a girl with her mother, and they’d fed the ducks along the edge of the water, the sun gleaming on their faces. She’d felt that those days would last forever. She’d had no concept of time.

  Tom whipped his keys from the ignition and leaped out, taking the beer and the large picnic basket. He passed the wine to Nicole, who accepted it gladly, her face reddening with alcohol and embarrassment. She felt a stab of fear and longing, wishing she’d Googled just a single porn video to get a sense for what was next. But she remembered what Chrissy had told her, nearly a week before: her body would know what to do when sex presented itself.

  Tom led her toward the sand, where a bit of grass still peppered into it, making it stable ground. He lifted a blanket over it and stabbed his cowboy boot down upon it, stationing it. Nicole sat easily on her knees, to keep herself unexposed. Suddenly, she felt entirely embarrassed that she hadn’t worn underwear. What had she been thinking?

  Tom popped the top from his beer as Nicole settled, attempting to calm her racing heart. She leafed through the picnic basket, digging out the plates, napkins, bread, meat, cheese, and strawberries, whistling to herself. Tom sipped his beer, watching her.

  “You know, I used to just watch you put my groceries away and wonder about you,” he said, his voice cool. “I’d wonder what you were like. What you liked to do. What you looked like naked.”

  “Well, I suppose the mystery of that is dead,” Nicole teased. She passed him a piece of cheese and he munched on it slowly, still looking at her.

  “Not all the mysteries are dead. And, I think, if you allow life to do its course, mysteries crop up each and every day. No matter if you change your surroundings, or if you opt to stay with the same person, in the same place, for the rest of your life. Time is like a river.”

  Nicole sipped her wine, listening to his soothing words. She wondered what he meant. Was he saying that a life with her would be interesting, eternally—that they would find new things to speak of and new things to do, without ridding themselves of each other?

  Beside them, in a clump of trees, a bird began to caw menacingly, signifying the coming nightfall. Nicole found herself laughing, lightening the mood. “He clearly doesn’t want us around here.”

  “We’re trespassing,” Tom laughed. He leaned toward her, then, his eyes gleaming, and he kissed her with supple lips. Nicole felt her pussy grow wet beneath her. She longed to grab his hand and place it there to rub her, to touch her. But he pulled back soon, gesturing toward their food. “I am starving. Aren’t you?”

  Nicole nodded, quivering slightly. She pic
tured him pushing everything from the blanket and yanking her on top of him, kissing her with zealous passion and thrusting his huge cock into her, causing her to cry out in pain and pleasure. Due to her internal turmoil, she could hardly eat, and she just turned her attention to her alcohol, sipping rather quickly, hoping Tom didn’t notice.

  They heard the truck snaking up the dirt road, then. Their heads snapped toward the noise, and their eyes grew wide with the realization: the truck was the very one that had been stationed outside of Chrissy’s the week before. It was Pastor Michael Pinder, Nicole’s father. It was as if he were hunting for them.

  Tom stood up, placing his beer bottle to the side. Nicole braced herself beside him, watching her angry father lurch toward them, his cowboy boots pounding into the grass. He held a Bible in his hand, almost like a weapon. He tore his free fist through the air, yelling out.

  “YOU SINNERS. YOU DEVILS. HOW DARE YOU BRING MY DAUGHER OUT HERE, YOU SATAN.” The words were spewed with utter hatred, with resentment, and Nicole felt tears creep up in her eyes. She longed to throw her arms around Tom and tell him they should go, they should run. She couldn’t take seeing her once-beloved father rip toward them with such anger.

  But Tom stood firm, like a man. He lifted his hand, his palm flat and toward the pastor. “Don’t come any closer,” he said.

  But the pastor continued to tear toward them. “Nicole. Get in the truck immediately. I’m going to save you from both yourself and this Satan!” her father cried. He ripped toward them. Tom looked suddenly nervous, unsure of himself. He lifted his other hand as Nicole turned away. Her father’s fist glided through the air and penetrated Tom’s cheek and nose, causing him to lurch backwards, toward the ground. The punch’s noise rang out through the air. Nicole screamed, panic throttling through her.

  “Oh my god,” she whispered, her hand on her chest. She watched as Tom shook off the punch, turning back toward her dad. His eyes looked animalistic and wounded. He breathed heavily, placing his hand on his chin. A bit of blood snaked down his skin.