Page 6 of Purchased

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Beatrix

I hate him, I hate all men. I hate all women too; they’ve not been any better. I hated a lot of the girls I was left with in the dormitories, but them the least—or sometimes more because I never understood why they didn’t see what I saw. They clung to these ideas of being happy even when we were all obviously miserable, and even though I’d been right so many times before, they didn’t listen when I warned them about this.

He leans down and he bites me on the back of the neck. Not a savage playground bite. He settles his teeth over my spine and he holds me there. It’s not a move that feels particularly human. It makes something rouse inside me, something that has been getting bigger and bigger, something I have been struggling to control for years now.

At first, it was just something I felt from time to time, a playful wild thing in my belly. But it has grown to the point I now feel as though it is stretching against my spine and my skin. It is uncomfortable, and it is often angry.

But when he places his teeth on my neck, and when his hand clasps the curve of my heated, punished ass, I feel a sudden calm, as though the storm has always had an eye to it that I was never able to find.

I stop. Not because he told me to, but because he made me feel a little moment of peace in the midst of internal and external chaos.

“Good girl,” he growls, just barely coherent against my skin. “Do you want me to make you feel better?”

He rubs his hand over my cheeks, his fingers just brushing against the seam of my most private place. He touches me as though he owns me, as though my body is his to explore as publicly as he pleases. I should hate him all the more for this, but I am aroused. I don’t know why. It’s a fucking weird reaction to being spanked. I have been punished many times before, but never felt even remotely like enjoying it.

“Do you want me to take you somewhere private? Or do you want me to make you feel better here, and now, in front of everybody?”

He presses his finger between my lower lips, not penetrating me, but spreading them just a little, scandalously exploring part of my body that has never been touched before.

I find myself holding my breath, telling myself I don’t want this while wanting nothing but it. I don’t care about the crowd. I don’t care about anything besides the way I need him and his touch, and how good he smells, and how his voice seems to slide down the inside of my spine, soothing and arousing me at the same time.

“I want to take you home,” he says. “I want to get that cheap silver foil collar off your neck. I want to bathe you, and feed you, and I want you to start a life with me. Now is that what you want? Or do you want me to rut you right here on stage like the wild little bitch you are?”

I arch my hips and I do my best to draw his finger in.

“I don’t know if I can hold off breeding you,” he tells me. “Do you want that? Spread out on the floor, fucked deep? Held in place while you take your mate’s cock for the first time in the eyes of the world?”

“Mmmm…” I let out a little animal sound as his finger finds the very entrance of my body and swirls around it. I have started to pant, to silently beg for his touch with arched hips and desperately tingling clit. I need his touch.

He dips his finger in and out of me, barely entering me, but giving me a taste, then moving down and finding my wet clit, circling it with his finger, tapping the bud now and then.

For the first time in my life, I want a man to touch me. The lust I feel is all consuming. I want him inside me, and the slow circling of his finger around my clit is driving me a kind of crazy I have never felt before.

My hips rise, his finger sinks deeper, and he finds a little scrap of resistance inside me, something nature made for him. I hear him make a soft sound, and I feel him explore it and me.

“You belong to me,” he purrs. “I want to take you out of here before I mate you, but if you won’t settle, I’ll fuck you for the first time here. I’ll show everybody what I’m made of, and what you are made for.”

It’s a potent promise, and I believe it.

“Are you ready to be a good girl and come with me?”

He purrs the question again, and this time I don’t bite him. I give him my permission by stopping fighting him. I can’t do more than that. I won’t do that. He takes that as consent and picks me up, over his shoulder this time, striding straight off the stage and through the crowd with me as his prize.

CHAPTER2

Armand

I want to be as far away from this place as possible. My men are with me, moving in easy concert. Packs are good like that. I may not have a man right by my side, but they are spread out across the area and ready to intervene if necessary. I act with the knowledge that I am never alone.

The car is already open and ready for us. All I have to do is get her in and get the hell out of here. This is a bad place, and nothing good happens here.

“Can we get my friends?” She asks the question as I put her in the car.

“Your friends?”

“Yes. They’re stupid, but they don’t deserve to be bought by random men.”

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