The Bridal Auction (A Wedding Season Series)

by Vivian Ward

  And nobody else’s.

  I will pay whatever it takes to win a sweet, innocent thing like her. She can be my pretty, broken doll to dress up and spoil. To ruin and warp.

  “Opening bid for Kendra is $250,000,” Mistress Pandora finally says.

  I raise my paddle and bid.

  “We have $250,000. Do we have $300,000?”

  Another gentleman who’s not placed a single bid this evening raises his paddle. Obviously, we have the same plan in mind.

  “We have $300,000. Do we have $350,000?”

  I raise my paddle again, as does he when he sees my arm go up.

  “Excellent. Do we have $400,000?”

  This guy is not letting her go. The bid climbs to $750,000 and this fucker is still raising his arm as fast as I am.

  “We have $950,000. Do we have $1,000,000?”

  “One million,” I say, raising my paddle. My eyes cut to his, daring him to fuck with me. I want Kendra and she will be mine.

  “Going once,” she says. “Going twice,” another pause. “Sold to number 13 for one million dollars! Congratulations.”

  Kendra’s face turns ghostly white but I’ll make sure it returns to a healthy shade of pink by the time I’m done claiming her tonight.

  Kendra

  “Kendra, it’s time,” Mistress Pandora says as she hands me a check. I’ve never seen so many zeros in my entire life! Who in the hell has a million dollars to bid on a girl?

  “Wait,” I say, staring at the check. Even though I signed up for this and knew what the arrangement was, I’m staring to have cold feet. But, it’s a little too late for that. Hesitant to leave the safety of the dressing room, I’m curious as to whom I’ll be going home with tonight. “Who won me in the auction? What’s his name?”

  “Oliver Ford. Now gather your belongings and follow me. He’s not the type of man that you make wait around.”

  I want to know more about him, but I’m afraid to ask. “Ok, I’ll just get changed,” I say, reaching for my duffel bag.

  “Why would you change right now? There’s no time for that. Come on, let’s go.”

  “But, these aren’t my clothes,” I say, looking down the length of my body. “I borrowed them from the clothing rack.”

  “Oh,” she laughs. “Honey, we don’t recycle clothes around here. Club Kaswell can certainly afford a few dresses and lingerie for the bridal auctions.” She eyes me up and down. “Besides, if you plan on wearing what you came in with, you’d better think again. These men aren’t looking for girls in jeans and t-shirts with sneakers.”

  I wish I could disappear. I feel like an idiot. Of course, they wouldn’t want a plain Jane. These men probably want fancy and pretty girls, not a Tom boy.

  I’m such a fool.

  “It’s okay,” she purrs, rubbing my shoulder. “A lot of young girls who come into the club aren’t aware of what they’re getting themselves in to until after they step through the door. I’m sure Mr. Ford will take care of any needs that you have and provide you with a new wardrobe.”

  Great. He’s probably going to make me wear the skimpiest clothes he can find so I can parade around for him while I’m half naked.

  With no choice in the matter, I follow her out to the main bar inside Club Kaswell where I see him waiting for me while sipping a scotch. The moment he notices me, he stands and waits for us to join him.

  “Kendra, this is Oliver Ford, your new husband.”

  Husband!

  Hearing that word sends my heart into overdrive. I can hear the beat of my heart in my eardrums and my clammy hands immediately return. I’m no longer Kendra Radney. I’m now Kendra Ford.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Kendra. I have a limo parked out front. Shall we go? Our honeymoon awaits us.”

  While he seems charming, I can tell it’s not a question, or if it is, it’s rhetorical. Hesitant to join him, Mistress Pandora gives me a nudge, pushing me forward.

  “Yes,” I murmur.

  “Come with me, wife,” he says, taking my arm in his.

  Looking over my shoulder as he leads us through the belly of the club, Mistress Pandora gives a wave and a smile.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, once the limo driver takes his seat behind the steering wheel and rolls up the middle window.

  Sliding closer to me, he tucks my hair behind my ear as he draws his face closer to mine. “We’re going on our honeymoon. Remember?”

  Uncomfortable by his extremely close presence, I try to slide away from him but find myself wedged between him and the door with nowhere to escape.

  As we pass under various street lights, I can tell he’s a bit older than me but he’s extremely handsome. It’s hard to ignore his strong jawline and intoxicating cologne. Still, it doesn’t ease my nerves one bit. If anything, knowing he’s older, and definitely more experienced, has me on complete edge.

  His hand cups my thigh under my ridiculously short skirt. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous,” he grins. “What has you so worried?”

  His question is so direct. A million thoughts race through my mind but my mouth fails to communicate any of them. Swallowing hard, my eyes fixate on his hand that seems to be creeping higher up my skirt.

  “I—I’ve never had sex before,” I whisper, ashamed of my confession. My father would never let me date. The closest ‘sexual encounter’ I’ve ever had was when Davie Brinkman pecked me on the lips in high school where we ‘dated’ for about two weeks.

  A deep rumble of laughter escapes his throat. My attention turns to his black hair and I notice some bits of gray in it, but I wouldn’t call it salt and pepper. There’s still plenty of black. He’s definitely older than me. “I know, wife, that’s why I bid on you.”

  “Why?” I ask. “Wouldn’t you want a woman with….experience?”

  His hand roams up my torso where he takes a possessive hold of my throat as his nose trails from my chin up my jaw. “No, wife, that’s where you have it all wrong. I’m going to give you all the experience you need.” His tongue flicks my earlobe.

  My stomach rolls with nausea and fear. Is he going to hurt me? What does he mean that he’s going to give me all the experience I need?

  “I’m sorry, I can’t do this,” I blurt out. “I thought I could go through with everything but I can’t. Take me back to the club and get your money back.”

  He backs away a few inches and studies my face. While he’s not eye-fucking me like he did when I was on stage, this feels even more intimate, like he’s reading my mind.

  “I can’t do that,” he says with an even tone. “This was a business deal, and unless you want to annul the marriage in 30 days, you’re stuck with me for now. Maybe forever.”

  “No,” I say. “I’m sorry. I only did this for the money, but I changed my mind. I’ll get a job or something. Just take me back.”

  “You should probably know that as head of my law firm, I can legally bind you to this contract. Now, tell me one thing right now that would make you comfortable with me, because I don’t bite. At least, not right away.”

  I think about his question for a beat before responding. “Why do you keep calling me wife? My name is Kendra.”

  “Would you prefer that I call you by your name? Especially if you don’t plan on sticking around?”

  “If you don’t care whether I stick around, why are you even asking?”

  “I can tell you’re flighty. You’re fighting the urge to stay because you’re a good girl; yet, here you are in the back of a limo with one of Club Kaswell’s most frequent members.” He sucks in a deep breath before heavily sighing. “And for the record, I do hope you’ll stay past the 30 days.”

  Wow, he’s scarily accurate. How can he read me so well when we’ve only spent 15 minutes together?

  “Yes, I’d prefer if you called me by my name.”

  “Ok, Kendra, I’ll call you by your name.”

  “Thank you, Oliver,” I sigh with relief.

  “You can call me Olly. It’s w
hat most people call me outside of work.”

  Our limo pulls up in front of a gorgeous hotel with a giant fountain spouting colorful waterfalls. My heart lurches to my throat when I realize we’ve arrived and the niceties are over. Now he’s going to expect sex and I have no clue what I’m doing. The driver opens our door, holding out his arm as he awaits our exit of the vehicle.

  “Welcome to our first night together,” Olly says as he helps me out of the backseat.

  My mouth goes dry and my legs feel like jello. I manage to muster a small smile as we walk inside.

  Oliver

  I’ve never seen a girl so skittish before. The girl is obviously out of her element but I can’t tell what she’s so worried about. Am I the Big Bad Wolf who’s going to eat her?

  Maybe.

  But I’ve not even shown my teeth yet, so I’m not sure why she’s so on edge. The entire time we were checking in, she kept looking around the hotel as if she were expecting someone to jump out and grab her. Either that, or she was looking for an escape exit. But I kept her close by.

  Being with younger girls throughout my life, I can usually calm any nerves they might have but something about Kendra is different.

  It might take a little time to get her warmed up, Olly, I think to myself.

  Surely, she can’t be that scared of losing her virginity. I know that some women say it hurts but I’ll make her pain so pleasurable that she won’t know which direction is up.

  “Anything else, Mr. Ford?” The bellhop asks as he escorts us to our suite.

  “No, thank you,” I say, putting a hundred dollar bill in his hand. “And, please, no housekeeping. At least not for the first few days of our stay.”

  A knowing smile spreads across his face. “You’ve got it.”

  Clearing my throat, I narrow my eyes. He takes his cue to scram. Once he’s out of sight, I turn my attention back to my beautiful bride. “Shall I?” I ask outstretching my arms.

  “What?”

  With one swift motion, I swipe her off her feet, causing her to let out a short yelp as I tap the keycard to open the door. Looking around the room, I can see the awe in her eyes. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

  She nods, her eyes still roaming about the room until the door clicks shut. Her gaze cuts straight to me, then the door.

  “Champagne?” I ask.

  I took the liberty of having the room stocked with food and alcohol before we arrived. I don’t mind taking her out, but I want to spend the first few days getting to know my new wife without any interruptions or outside interference. All of my partners at the law firm know better than to disturb me this week because I’m ‘on vacation’.

  “Yes, please,” she says. “Just a little, not too much.”

  Pouring us each a glass, I sit on the bed and pat the spot next to me. “Have a seat. Let’s make a toast.”

  Her shaky hand takes the glass as her eyes fixate on the carpet. Tipping her chin, I force her to look up at me. “To us, Kendra. May we have a long-lasting relationship.”

  A brief smile flashes on her face before she takes a gulp from her glass and starts choking.

  “Are you okay?” I ask her, reaching for a tissue beside the bed.

  She nods. “Yes, sorry. That….burned. Sorry, I’ve never had alcohol before.”

  I’m shocked. How does a woman make it 24 years as a virgin and never having drank liquor? And what would make a woman like her put herself up for auction? She rambled something about her mom and sister in the car, but I don’t want to focus on them right now. Tonight is about us. I can learn about her family problems later.

  “Never?” I ask.

  Shaking her head, she says, “No. There are a lot of things I haven’t done.”

  Scooting next to her on the bed, I wrap my arm around her waist. “That’s about to change tonight, Kendra. You’re going to experience a lot of first-time things with me, and I like that.”

  Her petite frame tries to wiggle out of my arm, but I pull her back in. “What are you so afraid of? I’m not going to bite….unless you want me to.”

  “I’m sorry. I tried telling you this in the car, but I-I can’t do this. I’m not that kind of girl.”

  My eyebrow arches as I give her a questionable glance. “What kind of girl are you, Kendra?”

  She takes another drink of champagne, this time it’s a very small slip. “I, um, I don’t know, but I’m a good girl.”

  “Lucky for you, I’m a bad boy,” I say, taking her glass away from her. “And do you know what bad boys do to good girls like you, Kendra?” Her eyes grow wide as she slowly shakes her head no. “They corrupt girls like you,” I whisper. “Make you do all the bad things that feel so good.”

  She jumps off the bed, nearly knocking over the bedside lamp. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I know you paid a lot of money for me, but I can’t.”

  Her ill attempt to scramble away is almost comical but I don’t laugh at her because I can clearly see she’s troubled by all of this.

  “Kendra,” I firmly say. “Sit, let’s have a talk.”

  Obediently, she stops dead in her tracks and returns to the bed. “Something has you rattled. I haven’t hurt you, have I?”

  She shakes her head no.

  “I haven’t threatened you, have I?”

  Again, she shakes her head.

  “Have I forced you to do anything tonight?” As much as I’d like to tie her to the bed, climb on top of her and pop her sweet little cherry, I’ve been very generous with our time together thus far.

  Once more, she shakes her head.

  “Then tell me what it is. Something’s going on in that pretty little mind of yours.”

  A heavy sigh escapes her beautifully parted lips as she tucks her hair behind her ear. “I don’t know what you expect from me,” she admits. “I’m not experienced in men. Not dating nor anything sexual. And you’re….,” her words linger.

  “I’m what? You can say it.”

  She looks over me, her eyes scanning my entire body. “You’re very experienced. I mean, men don’t buy women from auctions unless they’re….,” her voice trails off as she gathers her thoughts. “It’s just that I don’t understand why a man like you would want someone like me.”

  “A man like me?” I point at my chest and laugh. “Kendra, tell me what you think a man like me is like because I can almost guess you’re wrong.”

  She swallows a large, dry lump in her throat. “I, um, well, I think you’re dominant, assertive, and probably a pervert.”

  I laugh. “Well, you’re right about all of those things. But you know what you have wrong?”

  Her fearful eyes cut up to mine. “What?” She asks, her voice barely an audible whisper.

  “That I’m human. I can also be considerate, kind, and thoughtful.” I leave her to think about that statement as I get up to pour us more champagne now that I have her talking. Maybe it’ll help calm her nerves. Handing her a glass, I sit across from her on the bed to give her some space. “Would a man who didn’t care take the time to make reservations such as these?” I wave my hand around the room. “Would a man who was inconsiderate take time to stock the room with food and drink so we could spend time together? Getting to know one another while completely uninterrupted?”

  It turns me on to no end to know that I have the next solid week alone with this little beauty, to have and to hold, to spank and to teach.

  Slowly sipping her champagne, I can see the wheels turning in her fragile mind. “No, I guess you’re right.”

  “Kendra, I consider myself a fair man. I want you to be comfortable, otherwise, neither of us are going to be happy. Sure, I could force myself on you but where’s the fun in that? I like my sex partners willing and eager.”

  “Tah!” She laughs. “A fair man? Well, thank you for not letting me leave. Thank you for not forcing yourself on me. Thank you for buying me,” she rolls her eyes.

  Her wicked tongue makes me want to turn her over my knee and make h
er ass match her sweet little cherry. But I’ll give her a pass, just this once. “I don’t allow my women to talk to me like you just did, Kendra. And I sure as hell won’t allow my wife to talk like that, either. That was your first and last chance to talk to me like that. I will not be disrespected.”

  Getting used to the rich flavors of the champagne, she greedily gulps down the rest of her glass. “Sorry, husband.” Her mocking tone makes my dick hard, and I’m ready to give it to her but she’d never willingly take it. Not right now.

  But I’m going to make her beg for it.

  Kendra

  Oliver is so straight forward with his words that he makes me angry. He thinks I should be grateful for him, like he’s God’s gift to women. Ha!

  Sure, he might be extremely handsome—especially for a man of his age. How old is he, anyway? He’s got to be at least double my age but it’s hard to tell because he obviously takes great pride in his appearance. Even his nails are well manicured. And his dominance is off the charts sizzling hot, but I’d never tell him that in a million years. It’d go straight to his head.

  His strong hands grab hold of me, pulling me to his chest. Our faces are mere inches apart and all I can focus on are his deep, sensual eyes. There’s a hint of a wrinkle in each of the corners but it adds character to his face.

  I like it.

  Staring into each other’s eyes, his nostrils flare with anger from my backtalk. For a moment—just a split second—I’m scared of him. Scared of how easily he just manhandled me and how strong he is. He must lift weights. His chest is solid muscle and he’s strong as an ox.

  Before another hateful word is spoken between us, his right hand cups my jaw, and his lips crash into mine. His kiss is bold. Possessive. Dominant.

  I don’t kiss him back right away because my mind is moving at warp speed, trying to catch up to what’s happening, but the more his tongue licks mine and his hot lips consume me, I’m putty in his hands. My entire body goes limp as it melts against his muscular physique.