Page 31 of The Auction

“Now. See? You agree to submit to me, and you give up your power. I say when, not you. You like it? You can tell me no.”

“So far it’s not so bad.” Her voice shook.

Not so bad? It was a start.

Daniel felt the enormous weight of responsibility settle onto his shoulders. But—according to Anya—he had broad shoulders. He hoped they were broad enough to carry her over this threshold and not let her fall.

“You have a safe word?”

“It’s um…Leonard.”

He almost laughed. “Leonard?”

“It’s my cat’s name. I found him in an alley on an old blue coat someone had thrown away.”

“Ah. Leonard Cohen.” He knew the song well, “Famous Blue Raincoat.” Leonard Cohen was one of Canada’s most famous exports. Leonard Cohen. Maple syrup. Hockey.

“My mother sang his songs all the time. To us. To herself. To nobody. Now I sing his songs to Leonard. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”

She was nervous, talking to cover it. He wanted her to keep talking, to tell him all her secrets. He wanted to know everything there was to know about this lovely lonely girl who sang “Famous Blue Raincoat” to the alley cat she’d rescued.

“You’re allowed to talk,” he said. “Until I say you can’t. How does that make you feel?”

He moved closer so that their bodies touched. Her cheek brushed his shoulder. His hips brushed her stomach.

“Scared?”

“Good. Fear can your save your life.”

“I feel safe, too. I don’t know how that can work. Doesn’t make sense, but it’s true.” She met his eyes, briefly, then looked down to the floor.

“Because you are safe.” He put his mouth to her ear and whispered, “For now.”

A shiver passed through her. Daniel saw it, felt it, relished it. He raised his hand to her face and brushed her cheek. It was burning hot.

“What do you fantasize about when you make yourself come?”

Anya laughed—loud and sudden. A shocked laugh that she tried to cover with a nervous giggle.

“What?”

“You heard me.” No mercy. No quarter. If she wanted to go through with this stupid auction, he would make certain she knew what she was getting herself into.

“I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. This is submission, Anya. I’m in charge. You put me in charge. I ask the questions. You answer them. I give the orders. You take them. I spank and you are spanked. I flog and you are flogged. I whip and you are whipped. I bite and you are bitten. I kiss and you open your mouth and let me kiss you until you’ve forgotten how to do anything but everything I want you to do.”

He put his lips to her cheek at her ear, then kissed, but only there, on her cheek.

“Are you going to kiss me?” she asked. “Really kiss me?”

“Haven’t decided yet.”

“I want you to.”

“I don’t care.”

She exhaled loudly.

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