Auctioned To The Billionaire (Part One) Page 4

  I finally open my eyes and he’s watching me closely. “Hi,” I say, trying to smile.

  “What’s wrong,” he says, a statement. It’s not a question.

  “Maybe I’m a little carsick or something.”

  “I don’t think that’s it,” he tells me. “I think you’re maybe regretting this.”

  “No. Definitely not.” I try to meet his appraising gaze, to look confident, but my heart races and I feel my chest tighten. I’m having a panic attack.

  My heart beat races faster and I try to breathe, but it feels like no air is coming into my lungs. I make a small noise in my throat and feel tears threaten.

  “Haisley,” he says again.

  “Shit…I…I can’t breathe.” I wave my hands, gasping, heart beating even faster, and now I’m hyperventilating.”

  “Stop the car,” Dermot calls out.

  A moment later, we pull over to the side of the road.

  Dermot opens the car door, takes my hand and guides me out. I’m grasping at my chest, I feel my legs buckle. “I think I might pass out.”

  “No. No you won’t,” he tells me. “You need to look at me, Haisley. Look at me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Watch me,” he says. “Put your hand on my chest, here.” He grabs my hand and places it on his rock-hard chest. “Now, when I breathe in, you take a breath with me. And you don’t breathe out until I do. Come on.”

  I keep my eyes closed, but I can feel his chest, warm and solid beneath my fingertips. It’s electric. My entire body is charged, and suddenly I’m not focused on how I can’t get any air.

  Instead, I’m lit up, as if I’ve been plugged into a wall socket. Every fiber, ever cell feels alive.

  I can tell that my nipples are stiff, tight and sensitive. My pussy clenches.

  His chest rises. “Breathe in with me,” he commands.

  I do as he says.

  He holds his breath for a while, and I’m sure I can’t do it, but somehow…somehow, I manage. When he releases his breath, I gratefully exhale.

  “Again,” he says softly.

  We go through this routine a few more times, and I can feel my heart rate dropping slightly. And I don’t feel like I’m going to pass out anymore.

  I open my eyes and look at him, and he’s watching me with an expression that is both tender and hungry at once.

  I feel myself ache for him in the core of my being.

  I am aching to be fucked, possessed, loved, touched, looked at the way he’s looking at me right now for the rest of my life.

  It’s exhilarating, frightening, and I lick my lips, hoping he might kiss me right now. Take me right now, if that’s what he wants.

  For a moment, it seems he might. He takes my hand, still on his chest, and holds it for a long moment. His hand is strong, large and hot to the touch. “Very good,” he says.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  “Come on. We need to get you home.”

  Back inside the car, we fall silent again, and he’s texting on his phone while I watch the streets get nicer, wider, the buildings taller, fancier, and soon we pull up to his residence.

  “Here we are,” he says.

  “It’s so beautiful,” I marvel, looking at the ornate exterior. “What floor do you live on?”

  He chuckles. “All of them.”

  And it’s true, I realize, as the driver brings our bags to the door and then Dermot uses a keypad and his thumbprint in combination with looking into a camera and announcing his name before the door clicks open.

  “Wow, you take security seriously around here,” I laugh, but he doesn’t return the smile.

  His eyes are hard and cool. “Yes, I do.”

  I feel somehow chastised, and then I feel a bit stupid. After all, my apartment was just broken into and my father beaten and threatened. Dermot Nash is worth billions, and there are surely people who would harm him if he didn’t take his security seriously.

  We enter the residence and I gasp at the sheer enormity of the place.

  It’s a modern castle.

  The ceilings appear to stretch up and up, the walls are enormous. Giant works of art, bigger than movie theater screens, hang on the walls.

  There are beautiful, modern stairs that tower up into the air above us.

  “We’ll take the elevator to our room,” Dermot announces.

  “Oh. Okay,” I say, swallowing hard.

  Is this it? Right to the bedroom?

  Is he going to have sex with me now?

  We get into an elevator and Dermot folds his arms as we travel up five flights. When it arrives, he grabs my bags and then we walk just a few steps into the biggest bedroom I’ve ever seen.

  Bedroom?

  It’s an entire house unto itself.

  There are couches, chairs, a desk, an enormous television, floor-to-ceiling windows, a gas fireplace, and…the bed.

  The bed is large, tasteful, not ostentatious.

  But my heart skips a beat when I see it. Will we be in that bed soon?

  Will we be naked? Will I be crying out his name?

  He puts the bags down and calls me over to a set of doors, which he opens. They lead onto a mind-blowing balcony with a stunning view of the entire city.

  I stand there, mouth agape at the beauty.

  “Nice,” he says.

  “That’s the understatement of the decade,” I murmur.

  He chuckles. “Maybe later we’ll have coffee or dinner out here. But first…I’d like to taste desert.”

  He comes up behind me and puts his hands on my hips. I shudder, feel his breath on the nape of my neck. “Just a quick taste,” he says, now his voice in my ear.

  I feel myself moan softly. “Do you want…” I don’t know how to finish my question.

  “Yes, I want,” he replies. His hands glide up my hips and then he pulls me into him. His body is pressed tightly against mine, and I can feel how hard he is, even through all of our clothes.

  I can feel him, pushing against my buttocks, feel his need and desire, and it wets mine.

  “I hope I don’t disappoint you.”

  He chuckles again. “You’re serious?”

  I turn my head and look at him. “I’m not like your usual girls.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You know. Look at me.”

  “I have been, believe me. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, naked, laying out before me, what I would do to you. Fuck, Haisley. Do you not know how beautiful you are?”

  “That’s very kind of you to say.”

  “It’s very true.”

  I search his face to see if he means any of this. But does it really matter? In the end, it’s just nice to hear the words said. It’s convenient that he’s willing to at least pretend that I am worthy of his attentions.

  But I know, deep down, there must be some other reason why I am here.

  Some other agenda.

  It’s not my looks. He paid a hell of a lot of money for secrecy and total control.

  But I like that he has all of the control, I suddenly realize. And at the same time, he seems to realize this also, because his hands caress further up my sides and then to my full, sensitive breasts. When he touches them, I moan, my pussy throbbing with desire, and he inhales sharply.

  “You’re so responsive,” he mutters. “Christ, you’re so needy, Haisley.”

  His fingers find my swollen nipples and he plays with them, lightly at first, and then squeezes them as I moan louder. “Oh, Dermot,” I whisper, experimenting with his name on my lips.

  And then he leans in, kisses my neck. A thrill shoots up my spine. His mouth is warm, tongue soft and wet and hot as he tastes my skin. His hips make a slow, sultry circle, cock pressing into my backside as he works my breasts and nipples.

  Soon, his hands are under my top, then under my silky bra. When his skin meets mine, I gasp.

  I feel myself coming. I’ve never climaxed without touching myself, and even
then, it’s never been quick or easy to get myself to that point.

  And yet, suddenly here I am, climaxing without even so much as a finger on my pussy.

  He has somehow taken me there, or the moment has, the buildup, the tension bursting, and I cry out, and he swears, pushing a hand under my skirt, threading a finger through my panties, so he can feel my pulsing, tight center.

  His finger slide across my folds.

  “God, you’re so fucking wet,” he says. “I need to fuck you.”

  I nod, move away from him, start removing my clothes.

  His eyes narrow and his brow furrows. “Haisley.”

  “Yes?” I say, as I begin undressing.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You said you wanted to have sex now.”

  “Right. But we’re…that’s just…you know, talking dirty. Setting the stage. I mean, of course I do want to fuck you, but we needn’t just rush things.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” I flush and feel tears prick my eyes as my stupidity and cluelessness.

  He looks concerned. “What’s going on here?” he says.

  “Nothing,” I smile. “Let’s just start again. I’m so…I’m so ready.” My voice shakes, and a tear rolls down my cheek.

  “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Nothing.” I feel my jaw quiver. “Why are you ruining it?”

  “I’m not doing anything,” Dermot responds. “But something is upsetting you and I demand to know what it is. Now tell me.”

  I lick my lips, clasp my hands together. I feel myself looking for a way out. Can I just run away? But his gaze holds me firmly in place. And finally, I answer him.

  “I’m a virgin,” I admit. “I’ve never done this before. With anyone.”

  He stands there, just staring, not saying a word.

  But I can see by the look in his eyes.

  It’s over. He’s going to send me home with nothing.

  THE END OF PART ONE

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