Page 173 of Auctioned

Three on each side.

My body is exposed to him. I’m bent over and pressed against the couch as if I’m here for James’s entertainment. For him to humiliate me. He tore my clothes off. He won’t stop spanking me, making me wet for him.

“Fight me.” The familiar order drags me back to him. Away from the high. From the delicious, horrible pain.

My nipples are hard, grazing the couch. The friction, enhanced by the pain, is nice.

So nice.

“Ophelia.”

“He can’t kill us.” Oliver, James said. I’m floaty, but I’m pretty sure what I’m saying is true. “Maybe me. Not you. No one can kill you.”

“Neither of us”—metal clinks, then leather. His belt whooshes as James removes it from the loops—“is going to die.”

The sting on my ass is horrible. I howl at the pain. At the pleasure only he can deliver.

“Not tonight.”Ow!“Or tomorrow.”Jesus, that hurts.“Do you hear me?”

I’m hot and aching. My nails sink into the couch. My mind is racing with ways to get myself out of this mess, to make him proud of me.

Another blow.

Rain descends on the windows. Pounding. Brutal.

Nowhere near as brutal as James.

Just the way I love it.

“Okay, okay.” Catching my breath. I have to do that. Then, I plot my next move. “We won’t die.”

I stare up at him. His harsh expression. His sharp jaw. There’s no mercy in his icy eyes.

I’m soaking for him. Desperate for him to shove his cock inside me.

Delirious with it.

“Fight.” He strikes me one last time, discarding the belt. “Me.”

Pain. It’s almost too much to bear. My vision blurs around the edges. James slides his hand to the nape of my neck, shaking me. Leaning into my face.

“Why aren’t you fighting?” His thick eyebrows lower. He thrusts his hips forward, his hard length pressed against my sensitive ass.

“Why are you doing this?” I push against the couch. Not enough. Nothing will ever be enough when I’m hurt and aroused. Nothing other than his thick cock slamming into me.

“You know this. You’re my equal now. You have to know why.”

His equal? Me?

Can’t be. I’m the woman he kidnapped. Auctioned. Bought. The woman he chains by the ankle every day before work.

Then again, I’m also the woman he’s training to be a lawyer. A murderer.

So maybe, yeah. I am his equal.

“How are you going to kill him?” My breath hitches at his low growl. “And I don’t want to hear anything about putting a bullet through his head.”

“A gun?” I haven’t seen a gun lying around this place. Doesn’t mean it’s not here. It or they.

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