Auctioned to Him 4: His Addiction

by Charlotte Byrd

  “Will you excuse me for a second?” I ask and head toward the bathroom. “Make yourself comfortable. There’s some water and orange juice in the fridge.”

  In the bathroom, I flip on the lights and take a deep breath. The only thing I really hate about this place, and I mean really hate about it, is that there’s no bathtub. I love taking baths. As a child, I spent hours and hours in the bathtub – reading and playing and listening to music. Here, I only have a crammed stand up shower, with low ceiling, which barely fits one person. On more than one occasion, it made me feel so claustrophobic that I had to hurry up and wash the conditioner out of my hair before I was really ready, because my heart started to beat so fast that I felt like I was going to have a heart attack. After brushing my teeth, I walk back outside.

  Logan is sitting on my bed, with his back to the headboard.

  “You know, I like what you’ve done with the place,” he says looking around. “It’s cozy.”

  I smile, roll my eyes.

  “I’m serious,” he says. “I particularly like these lights.”

  He’s referring to my paper lantern string lights, which I have strung along the top of my curtains. The sole window in my apartment makes the place more than a little dark and I needed a way to bring more color and life into the place.

  “Thanks,” I nod. “So, do you want to go to your place instead?”

  Logan shakes his head and takes my hand in his. He pulls me down onto the bed next to him.

  “Thanks for inviting me here.”

  “Against my better judgment.”

  “I know, and that’s why I appreciate it,” he says, looking around. “And I really do love what you’ve done with the place. It has so much color and light, despite…everything.”

  Despite how small it is. Despite the fact that it has only one window, and the front door opens directly into my bedroom. But I really do appreciate him saying that. From the tone in his voice, I know that he means it.

  “Now, let’s take off this sweater, shall we?” he says quietly. It’s lightweight and sheer, and it falls off my shoulders with just one tug. He tosses it on the chair next to the bed.

  He leans over and kisses the top of my shoulders. I tilt my head back.

  “I want you,” he whispers. My heart skips a beat. He runs his fingers down my neck and over the top of my breasts.

  The muscles within me clench and don’t let go. Then he leans over and pulls me toward him. I expect him to kiss my lips, but he doesn’t. Instead, he kisses the top of my head, gently. I close my eyes, and he kisses my eyelids. They flutter underneath his lips, and I shiver. And then slowly, he grazes his lips with mine. I kiss him back, but he pulls away and kisses my neck. Slowly. Lingering over each kiss. Then he took a deep breath, inhaling me.

  “I love the way you smell,” Logan whispers.

  “What do I smell like?” I ask.

  “The perfect combination of sweetness and sex,” he says looking straight at me.

  My heart drops. I don’t know how to respond.

  Holding my gaze and refusing to let me go, Logan unclasps the front of my bra. My breasts rejoice in their newfound freedom, and he catches one with his hand. He kisses the top of it and then the nipple. He stays there for a while, getting to know each curve. He is gentle at first. My body throbs for his, and he quickly realizes that I’m not very interested in him being gentle.

  “I want to spend a weekend with your body,” he whispers. “So I can know every detail of it. Love each inch of it. Find out how every part of you works.”

  I take a big gulp.

  A moment later, our clothes disappear and we’re both naked.

  He plays with me before he enters me. He pulls me against his hips and he pushes himself inside of me. I moan into his mouth. I brace myself against his biceps, which pump with each thrust. I bury my hand in his hair – it’s soft and messy, and I make it even messier. He pulls my hair gently as he rocks inside of me. We fuck until we are both so intensely fevered that the world outside of us becomes a blur.

  * * *

  I don’t hear back from Logan for a few days after that one afternoon together. He warned me that he would be out of touch. I assume it’ll be okay, but I didn’t realize just how much I would crave more contact. I want to see him. I want him to put his arms around me. I want to kiss him. I want him inside of me.

  Get it together, I say to myself, checking my phone for the millionth time today. He said he can’t text or call for a while. Why are you freaking out?

  I just need a distraction. I arrange a few bouquets, go out for some coffee, eat a muffin.

  “Carbs and sugar are not a solution, Avery,” I say out loud as I toss the last of the crumbs into my mouth. And then, suddenly, my phone beeps.

  I miss you, Logan texts. I hate it here and I want your mouth.

  I want you too, I text back. I miss you, too.

  Tulum can’t come soon enough, he texts.

  How’s it going? How’s work?

  Fine. Boring. How’s your cunt?

  I drop my phone and feel my cheeks get flushed. Shivers run down my spine. I smile. He’s being coy. Cocky. More cocky than usual. Space and distance would do that.

  Avery? I’m just joking, he writes after I don’t respond for a minute. Are you offended?

  No, I’m not offended. I just don’t know what to say. I’ve never sexted before.

  Wet. How’s your dick? I text.

  Hard, he writes. I want to smell you. Inhale you. Eat you up.

  I want to ride you, I text.

  Shit. So so sorry for cutting this short. But I have to go. Rain check? he texts.

  Sure.

  I put down my phone. The door opens and Cynthia comes in, startling me. I take a deep breath. I’m covered in sweat. I have large stains under my arms and along the bottom of my breasts.

  “Oh my God, Avery,” Cynthia says. “Why don’t you just turn up the air conditioner if you’re that hot?”

  Chapter 17 - Logan

  I wait for Avery on my plane. I sent a car for her so that she doesn’t have to drive. We haven’t seen each other since that one earth-shattering afternoon in her tiny apartment. I’ve never felt this drawn to anyone before. My mind keeps swirling back to her. What she tastes like. How she laughs. The way her lips curl upward, as if in a smile when she gets upset. I crave her. I need her. I’m not someone who’s used to needing anymore.

  When her car pulls up, my heart starts to beat a little faster. I nervously play with my cufflinks. I’m wearing a button-down shirt, a gray tie and matching charcoal-gray pants. I brush my fingers through the back of my hair – I just got a new haircut, and I feel a little naked now. It’s a bit too short for comfort.

  After a month away in cold and perpetually overcast Washington D.C, my tan has faded a bit. This must be remedied ASAP. My body is starved for sunlight, warmth and Avery. I glance down at my phone absent-mindedly, listening for her footsteps going up the plane.

  “Ms. Lewis? My name is Kim, and I will be your flight attendant this evening,” Kim introduces herself.

  “Oh please call me Avery,” I hear her say. “Is Logan here?”

  “Avery,” I say, walking up to her. I put my arms around her and give her a warm hug. I can feel how fast her heart is beating through her dress. After pulling away, I kiss her. Her lips are soft and responsive, but after a month apart, the kiss is rather chaste. Both of us are keenly aware of Kim’s presence.

  I show her to the seat across from me. She’s wearing a short grey dress with long sleeves. Her legs are toned and bronzed and adorned with red heels, which match her nail polish and lips perfectly.

  “I’ve missed you,” I say quietly.

  “I’ve missed you too,” she says. I’ve completely forgotten that when Avery smiles, she smiles with her whole body. I want to grab her, pull her close to me and kiss her properly, but I restrain myself.

  “Wow, this plane is beautiful,” Avery says, looking around. “Are we th
e only ones going on this flight?”

  “That’s the best thing about private planes. You don’t have to travel with anyone you don’t want to.”

  Her hazel eyes sparkle in the light.

  “Is this real leather?”

  I nod.

  “What can I make you to drink?” Kim’s comes over. She’s leggy, with large breasts and very easy on the eyes. She’s my perfect type, but I’ve never made a move. I don’t sleep with the help. This wasn’t always my policy. Last year, I made the mistake of sleeping with my old flight attendant, Cherry – that was actually her name! – and when I got bored, I had to pay her a pretty extensive severance package to get rid of her. I couldn’t very well bring dates on my private plane with my ex-hook up serving us drinks.

  “I’ll have a dry martini, well, you know how I like it. And you?” I turn to Avery.

  She’s staring at Kim’s cleavage. I don’t blame her. Her breasts are more than a little mesmerizing.

  “I’ll have a sangria. If you have the ingredients.”

  “Oh yes, of course,” Kim smiles. Kim’s the ultimate professional even if she doesn’t really dress like one.

  “She’s very pretty,” Avery says disapprovingly.

  “Yes, she is,” I say, “but not as pretty as you.”

  Avery rolls her eyes, as if she doesn’t believe me. Her self-esteem is something that I’m really going to have to work on. The only unattractive thing about her is her lack of confidence.

  “So how was work?” she asks.

  I sigh, looking away into the distance.

  “Tiring,” I say. “Boring. Not very interesting.”

  I don’t know how else to describe what happened over the last month. I’ve participated in more tests and training than I ever care to again. I’ve never been through anything that exhausting before, not even when I just started. I guess they know that my contract is expiring and there’s no way in hell I’m going to re-up. So they decided to drain me completely – emotionally, physically, and mentally. I don’t really understand the rationale though. Wouldn’t you want your agents to go out into the field, on very dangerous missions, well-rested and in full control of their faculties? All those analysts and scientists and they don’t know the first thing about being a human being.

  Kim brings us our drinks and disappears.

  “Wow, this is so good,” Avery says, taking a sip of her sangria, following it up with a big gulp.

  My martini also goes down nicely. In addition to all the annoying tests, I also haven’t had a drink in a month. This one both exhilarates and relaxes me.

  “Are you looking forward to the wedding?” she asks.

  “Not as much as I’m looking forward to doing some of those things we talked about over text.”

  Avery blushes, looking away. Was that a bit too far? I scrutinize her face for signs. No. She likes it. She’s trying to pretend that she doesn’t, but I can see that she does.

  * * *

  A couple hours later, we land in Tulum, Mexico. The nearest commercial airport is in Cancun, about two hours away by car. Here’s yet another perk of flying private. We step off the plane. The air is thick with moisture. My eyes, which often get dry in California, feel satiated.

  “Oh wow,” Avery says, inhaling the world around her. “The air smells like the ocean, doesn’t it?”

  I take a deep breath. A thick aroma of salt and flowers overpower my senses. The starchiness of my collar lets go a little, relaxing under the humidity.

  “I feel like a movie star in the 60’s,” Avery whispers as we walk down the stair ramp. “Not many of them get off planes like this anymore, do they?”

  I smile and wink at her.

  “In that dress, you could pass for a movie star anywhere.”

  She blushes and stumbles a little.

  The airport faces the Caribbean, and far in the distance, I see its unforgettable blueness calling to me. I’ve always loved the Caribbean. The Pacific has its charms, but the water there is cold and unwelcoming in comparison to the Caribbean. Right now, I wonder why I still live in Malibu at all. I could live anywhere I want. We’re not anywhere near the beach, but the Caribbean is definitely making quite an argument. I wonder what Avery would think of that?

  Shit. Did I just really think this? We’ve had two dates. This weekend is technically only our third. And yet, the closeness that I feel toward her is unlike anything I felt for anyone else. I crave her. Want her. I feel myself becoming needy around her. You know what? Fuck Dolly. Why the hell did she have to introduce me to this marvelous creature? I was fine going through life a bachelor. I was fine with my life the way it was before. Basically one endless fuck fest interrupted by a few nice dinners and a couple of three-martini lunches.

  “Are you okay?” Avery asks. I must’ve blanked out. I don’t remember the last thing I said.

  “Yep, fine. Just taking it all in.”

  “If this is the airport, I can’t imagine what the rest looks like,” she says looking around. We landed on a small runway surrounded by thick jungle on both sides. To make the airport, they literally cut a strip away in the green.

  “What is that sound?” Avery asks.

  “Which one?”

  Everything around buzzes with life. There are ibises walking around and crickets and other insects singing on top of their voices. Southern California is by all accounts a desert and, though there’s a lot of life in the desert, it doesn’t buzz, thrive or thump all around. There are insects and bugs, but they don’t make their presence known loudly. Not like here.

  A car is already waiting for us. The driver carries our bags and places them carefully in the trunk.

  “You have quite a lifestyle here,” Avery says.

  “Oh, you like what you see?”

  “Of course, who wouldn’t? First class is definitely the way to go.”

  “I have a secret to share with you,” I say, putting my around her shoulders and giving her a small peck on the cheek. “This is better than first class.”

  She shakes her head and bursts out in a sexy little laugh.

  “The cockiness that comes with it does leave much to be desired,” she says.

  “I’m not so sure you believe that,” I say, laughing. I grab her waist and tickle her until she admits defeat.

  Chapter 18 - Avery

  After checking into a deluxe waterfront suite at the Jashita Hotel in Tulum, I freshen up, change and hurry downstairs to Liam and Kora’s rehearsal dinner. Logan, the best man, went downstairs earlier to participate in the rehearsal. Our suite is large and spacious and has everything you could ever want – even a private terrace with an outside shower! I peel off my travel clothes and wrap myself in the hotel-provided robe made of the finest Italian linen. The view of the Caribbean from the terrace is breathtaking. We are steps from the whitest beach I’ve ever walked on. Before I start getting ready, I spend a good half an hour lounging in the Mayan hammock on the terrace, listening to the waves calmly crashing into the sand.

  Makeup and hair are a little bit of a challenge here. The humidity in the air makes my face a little too shiny and makes my makeup run a little. My hair, which is typically razor straight and fine, has suddenly found some body and decided to curl up in all directions, looking unruly and completely out of control. After I take care of these problems, I pull out the dress that I got exactly for this trip. It cost $250, on sale – way too much – but I wanted to look perfect both nights.

  The dress is a Draper James original, Reece Witherspoon’s new clothing company. It’s the color of a Louisiana lilac, powder blue, and it’s a gorgeous striped and printed organza with silk lining. It’s sleeveless with a delicate slit down the front and comes with a thin white belt, which perfectly cinches the waistline. The way it flares out a little bit at the hips perfectly complements my figure and hides all the flaws. After putting together my whole look, I glance at myself in the mirror one last time. I look good. Put together. Classy. Sophisticated. With a touch
of fun.

  The rehearsal dinner is held downstairs on the patio. A soft Caribbean breeze from the ocean caresses the guests with kisses, and I thank God that I decided to use hairspray in my hair before I left.

  I see Logan across the patio, chatting with his brother. He waves me over. He is dressed in a sharp linen suit with light brown loafers and no socks. The drink he’s holding in his hand is almost empty, and his demeanor is relaxed.

  “What a beautiful party,” I say coming over to them, and giving Liam a brief hug. “Thank you very much for inviting me.”

  “Thank you for coming. Did you get a drink?” he asks.

  “No, not yet.”

  Just as I say that, a waiter appears as if out nowhere and offers me the dinner’s signature cocktail – watermelon vodka martini. It’s smooth and refreshing and puts me in an even more vacation mood.

  “How do you like you room?” Kora asks, giving me a brief hug.

  “Oh my God, it’s amazing!” I gush. She laughs.

  “I know, right?”

  The rehearsal dinner apparently went really well, and Kora hardly seems nervous at all about tomorrow.

  “Honestly, I don’t know how you’re holding up,” I say as the guys move away from us, chatting about golf. “I’d be such a wreck.”

  “I don’t know,” Kora shrugs. She’s wearing a bright blue wrap dress, which brings out her eyes. “I think that I’ve been waiting for this so long that I’m just super happy that it’s finally happening.”

  “Have you been getting any sleep?”

  “A lot, actually. I don’t know if you know, but Logan’s paying for this whole thing, and he insisted on hiring us a wedding planner. She has been a lifesaver. She knows exactly what to do and how to do it. She presents me with just a few choices and I pick one. She’s really a relief. If we didn’t have her…this whole thing would take over my life for a year.”