Page 8 of Shep
Think of the money. Think of the money.
I glanced over my shoulder at Jasmine and Marie. Oh my God. What had I gotten myself into?
5
SHEP
“How about a thousand, boys?”
That was the first thing I heard when I followed Jackson and Cyrus into the huge great room. The house was fucking insane, starting with the huge elk head by the front door. The antlers were used as a hat rack, I shit you not. There’d been a pile of coats stacked on a side table and when I scanned the room, it was clear this was being run by Rocky, not his dad.
No way would a sixty-something millionaire and his friends toss outerwear around, or sprawl across the couch with cheap beer and a football game on the TV.
It screamed college frat party minus the college.This whole thing screamed entitlement. They were drinking booze they didn’t pay for, lived in a house they couldn’t afford. Even thisauctionwas probably being funded by trust funds. Dead grandparents who left it to them must be rolling over in their graves.
I took in the two-story fireplace, the number of empty bottles and cans strewn about, guys lounging on a sofa the size of California. They didn’t even have totryfor sex. These women were a sure thing.
I froze halfway in the room when I noticed a woman standing on top of a huge slice of wood an interior decorator thought would be perfect as a coffee table.
She was fucking gorgeous. Whiskey colored hair, pale skin, full figured. As in, lots to hold onto.
There were eight women in total, the others lined up in front of the fire, their asses probably getting scorched. They looked into this whole thing, like they’d been here before.
“A thousand!” someone shouted. “I love T and A.”
Rocky must’ve seen us out of the corner of his eye because he popped up from the couch and came over. “Jackson, you finally fucking made it.”
They slapped hands in some stupid fraternity-style handshake.
“You three were gonna miss out bidding on a virgin.”
He tipped his head to the side and all three of us in unison swiveled in that direction.
To the woman on the coffee table.
Her. Holy shit.
She was avirgin?
Here? What the fuck was she doing in a sex auction then?
“A virgin?” Jackson replied. “Fuck yeah.”
“Fuck is right,” Cyrus added with a laugh.
Her blue dress didn’t hide much, snug in a way that indicated the dress was too small for her full frame. The deep V neckline only drew my eyes to that ample cleavage. Bare legs showed off shapely and toned calves. The sky high heels didn’t hurt, either.
All that definitely made my dick hard, but it was her eyes that met mine and stayed.
A deep brown. Striking. Potent.
She wasn’t smiling. Unlike the other women behind her, I sensed she wasn’t into this. Except, she wasn’t running away, either, which meant she was here for it.
But avirgin?
No man had touched that creamy skin? No one had sucked on those pert tits or hard little nipples? Noone had gotten between those thighs? Her pussy was untried and tight?
Shit.
