Bought: Highest Bidder
Prologue
Lucian
*Please note that this is a Dark Romance.
I slowly pace the room, letting the sound of my shoes clacking against the floor startle her. My eyes are on Dahlia, watching her every movement. Her breathing picks up as she realizes I've come back for her. With her blindfold on and her wrists and ankles tied to the bed while she lies on her belly, she's at my complete mercy, and she knows it.
The sight of her bound and waiting for me is so tempting. I force my groan back.
Her pale, milky skin is on full display as she waits for me. I've left her like this deliberately, in this specific position. She knows now not to move, not to struggle. She knows to wait for me obediently, and what's more, she enjoys it.
The wooden paddle gently grazes along her skin, leaving goosebumps down her thigh in its wake. They trail up the curve of her ass, and her shoulders rise as she sucks in a breath. Her body tenses and her lips part, spilling a soft moan. She knows what's coming.
She's earned this.
She lied to me.
And she's going to be punished.
She doesn't know this is for her own good. She should, but she hasn't realized it yet.
I'm only doing this for her. She needs this.
She needs to heal, and I know just how to help her. The paddle whips through the air and smacks her lush ass, leaving a bright red mark as she gasps, her hands gripping the binds at her wrists. I watch as her pussy clenches around nothing, making my dick that much harder.
Soon.
I barely maintain my control and gently knead her ass, soothing the pulsing pain I know she's feeling. "Tell me why you lied to me, treasure," I whisper at the shell of her ear, my lips barely touching her sensitive skin.
"I'm sorry," she whimpers with lust. I don't want her apology. I want her to realize what she's done. I want to know why she hid it from me all this time. She'll learn she can't lie to me. There's no reason she should.
Smack! I bring the paddle down on the other cheek and her body jolts as a strangled cry leaves her lips, her pussy glistening with arousal.
"That's not what I asked, treasure." My tone is taunting. She needs to realize what I already know. She needs to admit it. To me, but mostly to herself.
I pull away from her, just for a moment, leaving her to writhe on the bed from the sting of the paddle.
I didn't anticipate our relationship reaching this point.
In the beginning, I thought this would be fun. Just a form of stress relief for me.
But things changed.
I bought her at auction, and now she can't leave. She's mine for an entire month. But the days have flown by, and the contract is almost over.
I need more time.
I'm going to make this right. I'm going to heal my treasure.
If it's the last thing I do, I'll give her what she needs. What we both need.
She parts those beautiful lips, and hope blooms in my chest.
Say it, tell me what you desperately need to say.
But her mouth closes, and she shifts slightly on the sheets before stilling and waiting patiently for more.
I pull my arm back and steady myself.
Soon, she'll realize it. My broken treasure. Soon she'll be healed, but that won't be enough for me anymore. I want more.
Smack!
Chapter 1
Lucian - A few weeks prior...
I stare at my jacket, laying it over the arm of the tufted leather chair in the corner of my office. I need to leave this fucking building and get home, but I don't fucking want to. It's not like I have anything waiting for me. Nothing to do but more work.
I've spent a fortune on my home. I built it from the ground up, painstakingly choosing every piece of hardware and meticulously designing each room myself. But I couldn't give a damn if I go back there anymore.
It's cold and lifeless. Empty.
My brow furrows, and a frustrated sigh leaves my lips. I could keep working. There's always more work waiting.
I clench my jaw and type the password to unlock my computer, the gentle tapping of the keys soothing me. It's a comforting sound. But only for a moment.
As the screen lights up and I glance at the window of emails left on the desktop, I seethe and remember why I'm in such a horrible fucking mood. My eyes focus on the lawyer's name attached to the most recent email. This is why I'm so damn pissed and aggravated.
I'm fucking tired of leeches always suing me. Trying to take a piece of me they haven't earned. Most of the lawsuits don't bother me. It comes with the territory. But my family, and my ex-wife? It fucking shreds me, and I hate that I ever felt anything for them. At some point in time I had feelings for them, emotions I've long since grown cold to.
Now there's only anger.
I steady myself, knowing they've tried this before and failed. They'll keep trying, and it's aggravating, but I refuse to give them anything. I've learned my lesson the hard way. I know better now.
My eyes widen as a new email pops up.
From Club X.
It's been a long time since I've seen an email from Madam Lynn. And an even longer time since I've set foot into the club. The pad of my thumb rubs along the tips of both my middle finger and forefinger, itching to see what's inside.
Images flash before my eyes, and I can practically hear the soft sounds of the whip smacking against flesh and a moan forced from the Submissive's lips. Never to hurt, only for pleasure. Whips aren't my tool of choice, nor what I've been known for in the past. But nonetheless, the memory kicks the corners of my lips up into a grin. I tap my fingers on the desk, debating on opening the message before moving the mouse over to the email and clicking on it out of curiosity.
Check your mail, sir.
I huff a laugh at the message and immediately hit the intercom button on my desktop phone for my secretary. It's not yet five, so she better fucking be at her desk still.
"Yes, Mr. Stone?" she responds, and her voice comes through with a sweet and casual air.
"Could you bring me my mail, please?" Although it's poised as a question, it isn't one. There's only one correct response, and she knows that.
There's no hesitation as Linda says, "Of course." Her voice is slightly raspy. Linda's old, to put it bluntly; she should retire.
If I was her I would, rather than putting up with my arrogant ass.
I'm happy she hasn't though. Every year I pay her more money to stay. A hefty raise, a gift here and there. It keeps her happy. Finding a good secretary is more work than it's worth. It was a pain in my ass when I started. Linda's the first I've been able to keep for more than two months and now that she knows what she's doing, with more than four years of working for me, I have no intention of finding a new secretary. So when I make a request, I say please.
I go through the emails remaining in my inbox, waiting impatiently for her soft knock on the door to my office. Usually I don't bother with the paper mail. Just like most of these fucking emails, they're junk. She knows what to do with them. So I leave it to her to organize and sift through it daily. She hands over the personal mail at her discretion, usually waiting until the end of the week to bring it all by, but this particular one I want right now. I'm not interested in waiting.
The light knocking at the door echoes in the small room, and I look at the clock. It's only three minutes later. Not bad, Linda.
"Come in," I call out and she does so quickly, closing the door behind her. She walks straight to my desk, not wasting any time. Her pink tweed skirt suit looks rather expensive. It's a Chanel, if I'm correct. I see she's putting that last bonus to good use.
"This is from today," she says, placing a compact stack in front of me, "and this-"
I stop her, waving my hand and pulling out the small, square, deep red envelope. "No need."
She collects the remaining mail, tapping it lightly on the desk to line everything up together and asks, "Anything else, sir?"
The use of sir catches me off guard, and for a moment I wonder if she knows who the sender of this particular piece of mail is, but her face is passive. And it isn't the first time she's called me sir. Most of my employees do. Linda just happens to use it less often than most.
I shake my head and say, "That's all." The lines around her eyes are soft, and her lips hold the faintest form of a smile. Linda's always smiling despite having to deal with me. She takes my hot temper in stride. That's one of the reasons I'm eager for her to stay.
She nods her head before turning on her heels. I wait until she's gone to open the envelope.
I watch her leave and listen to the door click shut, leaving me in my spacious office alone and in solitude. Just the way I prefer it.
I finally open the envelope with the letter opener on my desk, avoiding the black wax seal embossed with a bold X entirely.
The thick cream parchment slips out easily from the elegant envelope, and the handwritten message is in Madam Lynn's beautiful penmanship. If nothing else, I admire her flair.
I can practically hear her sultry voice whispering in my ear as I read the sophisticated script.
Dear Sir,
An auction is to be held and I personally wanted to invite you, Lucian. It's been far too long, and I know you're in need. Renew your membership first.
Lucian
*Please note that this is a Dark Romance.
I slowly pace the room, letting the sound of my shoes clacking against the floor startle her. My eyes are on Dahlia, watching her every movement. Her breathing picks up as she realizes I've come back for her. With her blindfold on and her wrists and ankles tied to the bed while she lies on her belly, she's at my complete mercy, and she knows it.
The sight of her bound and waiting for me is so tempting. I force my groan back.
Her pale, milky skin is on full display as she waits for me. I've left her like this deliberately, in this specific position. She knows now not to move, not to struggle. She knows to wait for me obediently, and what's more, she enjoys it.
The wooden paddle gently grazes along her skin, leaving goosebumps down her thigh in its wake. They trail up the curve of her ass, and her shoulders rise as she sucks in a breath. Her body tenses and her lips part, spilling a soft moan. She knows what's coming.
She's earned this.
She lied to me.
And she's going to be punished.
She doesn't know this is for her own good. She should, but she hasn't realized it yet.
I'm only doing this for her. She needs this.
She needs to heal, and I know just how to help her. The paddle whips through the air and smacks her lush ass, leaving a bright red mark as she gasps, her hands gripping the binds at her wrists. I watch as her pussy clenches around nothing, making my dick that much harder.
Soon.
I barely maintain my control and gently knead her ass, soothing the pulsing pain I know she's feeling. "Tell me why you lied to me, treasure," I whisper at the shell of her ear, my lips barely touching her sensitive skin.
"I'm sorry," she whimpers with lust. I don't want her apology. I want her to realize what she's done. I want to know why she hid it from me all this time. She'll learn she can't lie to me. There's no reason she should.
Smack! I bring the paddle down on the other cheek and her body jolts as a strangled cry leaves her lips, her pussy glistening with arousal.
"That's not what I asked, treasure." My tone is taunting. She needs to realize what I already know. She needs to admit it. To me, but mostly to herself.
I pull away from her, just for a moment, leaving her to writhe on the bed from the sting of the paddle.
I didn't anticipate our relationship reaching this point.
In the beginning, I thought this would be fun. Just a form of stress relief for me.
But things changed.
I bought her at auction, and now she can't leave. She's mine for an entire month. But the days have flown by, and the contract is almost over.
I need more time.
I'm going to make this right. I'm going to heal my treasure.
If it's the last thing I do, I'll give her what she needs. What we both need.
She parts those beautiful lips, and hope blooms in my chest.
Say it, tell me what you desperately need to say.
But her mouth closes, and she shifts slightly on the sheets before stilling and waiting patiently for more.
I pull my arm back and steady myself.
Soon, she'll realize it. My broken treasure. Soon she'll be healed, but that won't be enough for me anymore. I want more.
Smack!
Chapter 1
Lucian - A few weeks prior...
I stare at my jacket, laying it over the arm of the tufted leather chair in the corner of my office. I need to leave this fucking building and get home, but I don't fucking want to. It's not like I have anything waiting for me. Nothing to do but more work.
I've spent a fortune on my home. I built it from the ground up, painstakingly choosing every piece of hardware and meticulously designing each room myself. But I couldn't give a damn if I go back there anymore.
It's cold and lifeless. Empty.
My brow furrows, and a frustrated sigh leaves my lips. I could keep working. There's always more work waiting.
I clench my jaw and type the password to unlock my computer, the gentle tapping of the keys soothing me. It's a comforting sound. But only for a moment.
As the screen lights up and I glance at the window of emails left on the desktop, I seethe and remember why I'm in such a horrible fucking mood. My eyes focus on the lawyer's name attached to the most recent email. This is why I'm so damn pissed and aggravated.
I'm fucking tired of leeches always suing me. Trying to take a piece of me they haven't earned. Most of the lawsuits don't bother me. It comes with the territory. But my family, and my ex-wife? It fucking shreds me, and I hate that I ever felt anything for them. At some point in time I had feelings for them, emotions I've long since grown cold to.
Now there's only anger.
I steady myself, knowing they've tried this before and failed. They'll keep trying, and it's aggravating, but I refuse to give them anything. I've learned my lesson the hard way. I know better now.
My eyes widen as a new email pops up.
From Club X.
It's been a long time since I've seen an email from Madam Lynn. And an even longer time since I've set foot into the club. The pad of my thumb rubs along the tips of both my middle finger and forefinger, itching to see what's inside.
Images flash before my eyes, and I can practically hear the soft sounds of the whip smacking against flesh and a moan forced from the Submissive's lips. Never to hurt, only for pleasure. Whips aren't my tool of choice, nor what I've been known for in the past. But nonetheless, the memory kicks the corners of my lips up into a grin. I tap my fingers on the desk, debating on opening the message before moving the mouse over to the email and clicking on it out of curiosity.
Check your mail, sir.
I huff a laugh at the message and immediately hit the intercom button on my desktop phone for my secretary. It's not yet five, so she better fucking be at her desk still.
"Yes, Mr. Stone?" she responds, and her voice comes through with a sweet and casual air.
"Could you bring me my mail, please?" Although it's poised as a question, it isn't one. There's only one correct response, and she knows that.
There's no hesitation as Linda says, "Of course." Her voice is slightly raspy. Linda's old, to put it bluntly; she should retire.
If I was her I would, rather than putting up with my arrogant ass.
I'm happy she hasn't though. Every year I pay her more money to stay. A hefty raise, a gift here and there. It keeps her happy. Finding a good secretary is more work than it's worth. It was a pain in my ass when I started. Linda's the first I've been able to keep for more than two months and now that she knows what she's doing, with more than four years of working for me, I have no intention of finding a new secretary. So when I make a request, I say please.
I go through the emails remaining in my inbox, waiting impatiently for her soft knock on the door to my office. Usually I don't bother with the paper mail. Just like most of these fucking emails, they're junk. She knows what to do with them. So I leave it to her to organize and sift through it daily. She hands over the personal mail at her discretion, usually waiting until the end of the week to bring it all by, but this particular one I want right now. I'm not interested in waiting.
The light knocking at the door echoes in the small room, and I look at the clock. It's only three minutes later. Not bad, Linda.
"Come in," I call out and she does so quickly, closing the door behind her. She walks straight to my desk, not wasting any time. Her pink tweed skirt suit looks rather expensive. It's a Chanel, if I'm correct. I see she's putting that last bonus to good use.
"This is from today," she says, placing a compact stack in front of me, "and this-"
I stop her, waving my hand and pulling out the small, square, deep red envelope. "No need."
She collects the remaining mail, tapping it lightly on the desk to line everything up together and asks, "Anything else, sir?"
The use of sir catches me off guard, and for a moment I wonder if she knows who the sender of this particular piece of mail is, but her face is passive. And it isn't the first time she's called me sir. Most of my employees do. Linda just happens to use it less often than most.
I shake my head and say, "That's all." The lines around her eyes are soft, and her lips hold the faintest form of a smile. Linda's always smiling despite having to deal with me. She takes my hot temper in stride. That's one of the reasons I'm eager for her to stay.
She nods her head before turning on her heels. I wait until she's gone to open the envelope.
I watch her leave and listen to the door click shut, leaving me in my spacious office alone and in solitude. Just the way I prefer it.
I finally open the envelope with the letter opener on my desk, avoiding the black wax seal embossed with a bold X entirely.
The thick cream parchment slips out easily from the elegant envelope, and the handwritten message is in Madam Lynn's beautiful penmanship. If nothing else, I admire her flair.
I can practically hear her sultry voice whispering in my ear as I read the sophisticated script.
Dear Sir,
An auction is to be held and I personally wanted to invite you, Lucian. It's been far too long, and I know you're in need. Renew your membership first.