Page 23 of Highest Bidder

“Deeper,” he said, voice calm but ruthless. “I want you to choke on it.”

I did as he said, opening my throat and sliding my mouth down until my nose brushed his stomach. My eyes watered, and he groaned when I looked up at him.

“Fuck yes,” he snarled as his hand came down on the back of my head and fisted my hair. “Just like that.”

He thrust up as he pressed my head down. His tip hit the back of my throat with each push.

“Keep sucking, slut.”

I knew every name he called me was meant to degrade me and remind me what I’d become. But all they did was make me wet. He was right—I was a whore.

Tears slipped from the corners of my eyes, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I wanted to hate him. But I found I wanted to please him more.

He groaned again and held my head tight against him. “You going to swallow like a good little cumdump, or do I need to paint your face for the driver to see when we pull up?”

I whimpered around him, and he laughed triumphantly. The sound was dark and mean.

Then he held my head and grunted as his hot cum hit the back of my throat.

“Take it all,” he snarled through gritted teeth. “Don’t spill a fucking drop.”

I swallowed it all, and pulled my mouth off his cock, leaving his shaft spit shined.

He looked down at me, his thumb sweeping gently along the corner of my mouth.

“Good girl,” he murmured, quieter this time. Almost… reverently.

Chapter Eleven

Vivian

The car turned onto a long, winding drive lined with soft lights, and my breath caught when Jeff’s house came into view. It wasn’t just big—it was beautiful. Two stories of warm stone and wood, with golden lights glowing through tall windows. The kind of place my mom used to drive me and Hope by at Christmas time, and I’d imagine myself living in one day. The kind of place where things were quiet and safe.

It was nothing like my cramped studio apartment. Or the house I grew up in, where the walls were stained with cigarette smoke and the windows rattled in their frames when my father yelled.

It was picture-perfect, and not at all where I belonged.

The car rolled to a stop. Tom opened the rear door and his face split into a knowing grin when his eyes flicked to my rumpled dress and bare thighs as he helped me out. I didn’t meet his gaze. Jeff stepped out next and turned to wait for Tom to retrieve my bag from the trunk.

Once he had it, I reached for the handle, but Jeff shook his head. “I’ve got it.”

That surprised me, but I didn’t say anything as I followed him up the stone path to the grand, double-door mahogany entrance.

He opened the front door and gestured me inside.

I stepped past him and tried not to gawk at the ornate chandelier hanging from the high ceiling in the foyer. The floors looked like hardwood but sounded like tile as my stilettos clicked over the planks. The smell of mahogany and leather filled the air.

The door shut behind me, followed by the quiet clunk of a lock. I turned toward the sound.

Jeff moved past me, setting my bag down next to a table in the entryway, then pulled a small velvet box from the inside pocket of his wool jacket.

“Come here.”

I obeyed, and he opened the lid to reveal a black leather choker with a slim silver O-ring at the center which made its purpose clear.

He lifted the collar from the box, placed it around my neck, then fastened it in the back.

“This stays on until your contract ends. You can take it off to shower, but that’s it. If I find it off any other time, we’re done.”

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