Sold at the Auction(17)

"You're right honey, it would have been. But there was no Starbucks when  I was just starting out, back then it wasn't the mega-chain you see  today. And as for the security guard stuff, you have to remember I had  nothing back then. I needed flexibility, I needed benefits, I needed  decent pay, and even though it was dangerous work, the Sheriff's Office  offered all that. My brothers on the force took care of me and I took  care of them."

Again, this brotherhood thing. It was interesting how much importance  Troy placed on the people who surrounded him, who worked for him or with  him. Because even now, he was still part of a brotherhood, the  Billionaires Club, the sponsor of the auction. Did the group go beyond  sourcing women? Did they auction items other than women? Suddenly I felt  certain that the auctions were just the tip of the iceberg, that there  were probably investment networks, private banks, concierge services,  all sorts of things that only rich people had access to, what I wasn't  even sure. And Mr. Black nodded his head neutrally.

"Yeah, the Billionaires Club does a lot, it's a complex network of  professional services, you can even get your teeth checked out by a  board-certified dentist, if that's what you need," he said wryly. "But  yeah, I put a lot into the brotherhood. I put a lot into my people, in  general," he said, serious suddenly, "and people put a lot into me.  Running an empire, I'm responsible for the welfare of thousands, if not  hundreds of thousands. My employees depend on me, their families depend  on me, people would be stressed, maybe even go hungry, if I didn't come  through with my part of the bargain."

And I sat back, thoughtful, mind whirling. Because even this idle  chit-chat revealed a lot about the big man, taking me by surprise. Troy  had amazing depth, amazing empathy, amazing insight. He was responsible  for babies, he knew that if their parents didn't get paid, there would  be no food in small mouths. He was aware of his incredible obligations,  that the world was no tiny plaything, that he had responsibilities, a  heavier burden than a regular man.

And it surprised me because I'd always thought rich people had it easy.  Their money was like a cushion, they could sit back on an inflatable  raft and trail their fingers through the water, a cocktail at their  side. But obviously, my pre-conceived notions weren't true because Troy  was telling me that he cared about people, he cared about the people who  worked for him, he cared about prisoners even, and  …  he cared about me.  Because even now, he was sliding a steaming omelet towards me, fluffy  and delectable, studded with bits of ham and red and green peppers.

"Ohhh," I licked my lips in anticipation. "Looks delicious."

He grinned knowingly.

"Honey, I made you two just in case," he said, gesturing to another omelet on the other side of the counter.

I choked. Wasn't the second one for him? I couldn't possibly eat two, these things were huge. But he nodded.

"I ate when we were at the boutique, they fed me dinner while you were  looking over some gloves. So eat up baby, I want you to put on weight."

Put on weight?! Was he blind? No way, I could barely squeeze into the  women's section at some of my favorite department stores, I was gonna go  up another size or two if I put on weight.

"No Troy, I couldn't possibly," I squeaked. "Two omelets? I'd burst!"

But he looked at me approvingly.

"I want you to burst baby, I want you to put on some poundage, you look  amazing now but you'd look even better heavier. Twenty pounds," he  growled, eyes devouring me, seizing on my breasts, the huge girls softly  rounded in my sweater. "Twenty pounds would do it."

I flushed then, aware of how curvy I was, how I exploded everywhere, my  ass falling off the stool in all directions, so round and luscious.

"Twenty pounds?" I protested again. "That's crazy talk, there's no way."

But the big man grinned at me once more, reaching forward to cup a huge  tit in one hand, weighing it in his palm, squeezing gently through the  soft fabric, making me moan and gasp.

"Yeah, twenty pounds," he muttered more to himself than anyone. "That'd  make these girls swell up to Double H's, you think?" he asked, eyes  flashing up to meet mine. "Double H sounds about right, shit, you'd be  busting out of lingerie, it'd be so fucking sexy."         

     



 

I positively melted then, nipples hardening visibly, jutting through the  sweater like pebbles, begging to be touched. And the big man growled,  trailing his fingers over the hard nubs, softly stroking in circles,  then pinching suddenly, making me yelp, tingles shooting straight from  my breasts to my cunt, making me grow embarrassingly wet, dripping from  the love play. Because I wanted it, oh fuck yes, I wanted him so bad, I  was ready to spread my legs for him right here on the kitchen floor.

But the big man was still mesmerized by my tits, the perfect teardrop ovoids.

"Yeah, Double H's," he rumbled, eyes on my body, softly niggling the  underside of my other breast now. "That sounds fucking amazing."

And with that, he pinched that nipple too, making me jolt in my seat, almost fall off the chair.

"Stop," I panted, face flushed, trembling. "Stop or I won't eat anymore of this delectable omelet."

And he halted immediately.

"I usually don't let women tell me to stop, I'm the boss and this is my  house," he rumbled, "but I'll make an exception here because nothing  gets between my baby and her food," he added. "Nothing, not even me. Now  eat," he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Eat because we're going  to a basketball game afterwards."

Basketball? I was flustered by the twists and turns in the conversation,  from cooking to jails, to his past, to weight gain, and now to  basketball. And I admit, I wasn't much for sports. I've always been a  klutz, someone consistently picked last in PE, no matter what we were  doing. But the big man chuckled deep in his chest again.

"Honey, I want you to enjoy this week with me. I want you to have a good  time, to let loose, to learn about the world, open your mind, open your  body," he said, chucking me under the chin before dropping another kiss  on my lips. "So eat because we've got things to do, and you're gonna  have the time of your life once we get to Madison Square Garden."

I gasped again. Madison Square Garden? Wasn't that a premiere venue in  Manhattan, where the best events were held, Taylor Swift, Lady Gaga,  even the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show? We were going to MSG? And  knowing Mr. Black, he probably had courtside seats, up close and  personal. So of course, I obeyed. Because my owner, my captor, wasn't  treating me like a slave girl, someone he bought to meet his physical  needs. He was treating me like  …  I paused, almost not daring to believe  it. He was treating me like a girlfriend, I thought to myself, and a  flush spread over my chest. I was like a girlfriend to him, even if only  a temporary one, and suddenly, I too, wanted to make it work. I wanted  to make this week special, wanted to make it unbelievable, extraordinary  even, so that Troy Black would remember me after I was gone.





CHAPTER ELEVEN


Troy




"Come on," I grabbed her hand and led her over to an elevator. "This way."

The brunette bit her lip but followed laughingly behind me. Ellie was  fun to be with, game for anything, dressed now in tight jeans and a  sweater that hugged her chest. Sure, the jeans were designer and the  sweater the finest cashmere, but anything would have looked good on this  girl. She was so fucking beautiful that even now, I wanted to ravage  her here at stadium, tear off those new clothes with dozens of people  milling all around us.

"Troy," she said, "where are we going? Are there seats on the ceiling or something?"

I swatted her ass as we stepped into the elevator, uncaring who saw. Shit, she was so beautiful and all mine.

"Not quite the roof," I murmured, hauling her in for a kiss. "But close."

Because the elevator zoomed up quickly, like we were shooting into the  sky. But it wasn't the sky. We were headed to the owner's box, a glass  cube above the court, looking down upon the crowd, the throngs of fans  cheering. It's one of the benefits of the Billionaires Club, partial  ownership in a number of sports teams, and fuck yeah, I'd joined partly  for this perk. I wanted to be able to jet all over the United States,  catching the best games live action, because shit, sports teams are an  investment like anything else and it's important to keep tabs on your  bets.

Because I'm no dummy. Everything is an investment to me, from the  mansion in New Jersey, to the commercial properties I own, to a sheep  farm I had in New Zealand, shit, even what I'd paid for this girl. But  yeah, things were turning out different from anticipated on this  particular investment. Because I thought it'd be nothing more than a few  good fucks, some hot pussy on my dick, but here I was, holding the  girl's hand, clasping her close to me like we were on a real date,  laughing genuinely at her jokes. And so I took a deep breath. Shit,  thing were out of control, I was so fucked.