Page 76 of Auctioned

My growth spurt only started at seventeen, two years later. Until then, he was bigger. Taller. Stronger. Didn’t matter how many hours I’d spent in the gym. How much muscle I’d gained.

I might’ve been a replica of him with our matching dark hair and cold blue eyes.

Back then, though, he had a few inches on me. A grown man’s power.

For years, he’d had an advantage over me. Punched my ribs. Kicked my stomach. Beat the shit out of me while making sure no one could see the bruises.

“Get the hell up. You’re my son. Stop acting like a wounded, pathetic animal.”

“Fuck you.” Every part of me wanted to stand up and fight back. Refusing him felt better. “I’m done listening to you, do you hear? Fuck. You.”

“Goddamn crying baby.” His dress shoe connected to my arm. Then another kick landed on my bruised ribs. He raisedhis tattooed hand, fisting it—a demonstration of power. “What are you thinking, lying there, taking it like some weak fuck? How do you plan on taking over our firm? Ruling over our empire? Hmm? Answer me.”

At the time, I had no idea why an attorney would have to be a violent monster. When I turned twenty, I understood.

By then, I loathed him and everything he stood for.

He kicked me again, the force of the blow flipping me over my back. Just so I wouldn’t forget he was there, he stepped on my ribs, leaning his weight on top of me.

I snarled.

“Answer me.”

I’ll do all that and more, old man. And by the time I’m done, you’ll be long gone.

“Answer.”Kick.“Me.”

“You’ll see, sir,” I spat out. “You’ll see.”

Unlike me, Topher never took a beating in his life. Nothing remotely close to it.

Somehow, he grew up to be more violent than I’ll ever be. The way he treated Ophelia was the last straw.

He’ll have to learn to tame those urges.

I won’t stand for it.

What I’m doing to Ophelia isn’t the same. I own her. She’s my pet. She thanks me when I shoot my cum down her throat.

She’s stopped hating me.

Problem is, she still has a modicum of control over me.

That part drives me insane.

It has to end before I can set her free.

I will never set her free.

The voice in my head is insistent.

Another reason I need to take care of my little problem in the cell.

Pocketing my phone, I head over to my den, getting my rope.

I moved it from my room down here last night when I couldn’t sleep. I had no intention of using it on her so fast. Thought that I was in control of my urges. Of her.

I was wrong.

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