Page 17 of Sold to the Silver Foxes

I can’t exactly ignore it. I’d steeled myself for the possibility that the bidders might be…well, gross or desperate. These three are the opposite. They’re wealthy, sure, but you can tell they’re healthy, confident, and used to getting what they want. So whybuyme?

A rustle of movement at my side indicates someone is closer. For a moment, I wonder if it’s Dante or Nico stepping in, but the hand that brushes a strand of hair from my temple belongs to Sal. I pick up his faint cologne—something clean andunderstated, with a hint of spice. Goose bumps prickle across my skin.

“I’m going to roll you over now,” Sal murmurs, voice low enough to be soothing.

I nod, resisting the small flutter of panic that surfaces. He slides an arm under my shoulders, another under my knees, and flips me gently onto my back. My white satin slip bunches up around my hips, and heat flushes my cheeks when I realize how much skin is showing. My thighs, the curve of my waist, maybe a glimpse of my underwear. He cups my cheek, and for a second, I wonder if he will kiss me on the mouth. Instead, he bends down and presses a soft kiss to my forehead as he pulls the slip into its original place.

This is nothing like I expected. His small gesture nearly undoes me. It’s so oddly tender that tears threaten. I blame adrenaline and the emotional whiplash of the night, but I blink them back fast. I don’t want to cry now, not when everything finally feels…manageable.

Sal’s voice pulls me back to reality. “Tabitha, I think we’d all like to see more of you. Would you mind undressing for us? We’d like to fully appreciate what we’ve purchased.”

The wordswhat we’ve purchasedland with a jolt, reminding me why I’m here. He doesn’t sound smug or cruel, though—he’s simply stating the truth. Swallowing, I search his eyes. There’s no malice there. Just interest. Perhaps a flicker of desire. Definitely curiosity.

I nod, my cheeks flaming. “Okay.”

Sal’s mouth curves in a faint smile, and he shifts off the bed to give me space. Gulping down nerves, I push myself up on myelbows. The pearl necklace shifts at my throat, clinking softly. I’m reminded once again of my safety net.If I need to stop, I can.That knowledge helps me move forward.

I scoot upright, letting my legs dangle off the side of the bed. My slip rucks up, revealing my thighs. Dante arches a brow, but none of them rush forward or bark commands. They’re waiting for me.

A shaky exhale escapes me as my fingers grasp the thin straps over my shoulders. In one smooth motion, I slip them down. The satin glides over my skin, snagging briefly on my breasts before sliding further down. My body tenses at the exposure. Slowly, I ease the garment over my hips, then lift my knees to pull it the rest of the way off.

Standing here naked in front of them does something to me. Maybe I’m broken. I should feel scared, shouldn’t I? But right now, all I feel is a low-down throb between my legs.

“Better,” Sal says, voice low. He runs a single fingertip along my jaw, then down to the slope of my shoulder, so close to my breast that I inhale sharply, bracing for more. But he doesn’t push forward. “Thank you. Now lie back down, if you don’t mind. I can continue that massage, or we can move on to more. Your choice.”

My tongue darts over my lips. My pulse hammers, and heat pools in my belly. Part of me wants to hide under the covers. The other part, the one that recognizesthis is happening, spurs me on.

“I’m ready for more.” I barely recognize my own voice.

Still, they don’t pounce. Instead, Sal looks me over one more time. “Tell us, Tabitha, have you ever been bound before?”

I blink. That’s the last thing I ever expected to be asked. Does he think this is some kind of fraud? “I’m a virgin—I passed Pietro’s lie detector test and everything. I?—”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean,” he says, waving away my concern. “Some people try BDSM before they ever have sex. I was merely asking if you have.”

“Oh.” My heart stutters, trying to get back to a normal rhythm. “Um, no. I haven’t. Never went past making out and holding hands in high school.”

“And college?” Sal asks.

“No time for guys then.” I shrug. “My classes took up all my time.” I’m not about to tell them more than that. They don’t need to know my sob story—the last thing I need is for them to think I’m the poor girl who’s hitting them up for money.

Sal steps closer now, close enough to touch me. Those dark eyes peer into me as his deep voice rumbles, “And you want tonight to be your first time?”

My throat goes dry, but I’m wet between my legs. It’s the weirdest contrast. “Yes.”

He gives a slight jerk of his head toward something behind me. “We’d like you on the merry-go-bound.”

I’m not sure if I heard him right. “The what?”

In an old-school move, he juts his elbow out from his body, a clear indication for me to take it. So, I do. His evening suit’s material is fine, finer than any of the jackets I take at the bistro. But it barely registers. My heart thumps in my chest as we approach the device that looks like a small merry-go-round with a bunch of straps on it.

Oh. Merry-go-bound.

It’s maybe six feet across and has a ton of black leather padding in every direction. The furniture (toy?) stands a little taller than my waist. I’m not even sure how to use it.

“Um—”

“Let me help you up.” He clasps his hands at my waist and gives me a lift onto the thing. Once I’m on it, the way the padding fits against my body makes me want to lie back, so I do.

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