Page 52 of Highest Bidder

She was a goddamn knockout.

“Is this okay, or should I take it off?”

I shrugged like it didn’t matter. “I don’t care as long as your holes are available.”

The muscle in her jaw clenched as she continued glaring at me. The silence was tangible yet her look spoke volumes.

Stepping past me, she bent over the arm of the couch and spread her legs wide. The sight of her pretty pink pussy peeking from the crotch of the teddy caused every coherent thought in my head to flee.

Fuck. She might not be naked, but she’d obeyed my rule.

Her tone was flat when she looked back over her shoulder and asked, “Would you prefer another hole, Sir?”

That was better. She needed to be reminded what this was. Hell,Ineeded to be reminded of it.

I gruffly replied, “No, that hole will work just fine.”

I didn’t hesitate, just unzipped. Stepping behind her, I grabbed her hips, kicked her legs wider and pushed into her in one rough thrust.

No foreplay. No words. Just the sound of skin meeting skin. Her steady breathing was the only thing that told me she was still with me.

This wasn’t about connection, it was about control.

About reminding her—and myself—what this was.

“You think candles and soft music change anything?” I growled as I slammed into her deep. “You think a bit of lace makes you my girlfriend?”

She didn’t answer. Her fingers just gripped the cushion tighter.

“Let me make it real clear, slut. You’re a warm hole. That’s all.”

I drove into her harder after that. Meaner. Pretending that punishing her would erase how many times I’d thought about her this week. Or that I’d liked coming home to her.

When I came, I stayed deep, gripping her hips so hard she’d feel it tomorrow.

She didn’t make a sound. Didn’t move. Merely stayed there like she thought any shift might set me off again.

Then I heard her whisper, “I’m sorry. I just thought you might like to come home to something nice.”

Her head hung down so I couldn’t see her face, but her voice cracked at the end.

Fuck.

I pulled out and backed away with my fists tight at my sides.

I didn’t say anything; just went to the half bath and grabbed a towel.

She was still bent over when I came back and still refused to look at me.

I knelt and cleaned her up, wiping between her thighs and down the backs of her legs. My hands were gentle, but my jaw was locked the whole time.

When I picked her up, I didn’t think. Just acted.

Her cheek was damp where it rested against my chest as I carried her up the stairs, making me feel like a bigger asshole than I already did.

I opened my bedroom door and threw the comforter back, then laid her down and pulled the covers up around her.

She didn’t say a word.

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