Page 113 of Shared By the Highest Bidder

Even though I need something to keep me from going insane all weekend, I want to be hungry for her when I lay eyes on her again.

When she comes down, I kiss my way up her body, burying my face against her blouse, wishing we were fucking raw dog, skin on skin.

“Good, sweetheart?”

“Good is a freaking insult.”

“That’s my girl.” I love how she’s so damn open and not afraid to admit what she likes.

Reaching for my cock, she says, “What about you?”

That’s part of this contract. Just giving in to feralwants and desires.

“For you, I’ll stay unsatisfied all weekend as a punishment for making you worry about my ex. But when I get back on Sunday night...”

“Yeah?” She eagerly licks her lips.

“Maybe you’ll indulge me then.” I don’t deserve pleasure right now.

I’m not even sure I deserve a happy-ever-after with this woman.

“Maybe,” she sweetly parrots me.

Bernadette deserves the riding-off-into-the-sunset ending. I suspect Ash will want to keep seeing her after the contractual month is over. That puts her in Ford’s bed, too, since it looks like they’re getting back together.

Where does that leave me?

Alone with my next prize?

My stomach heaves at that thought. I bitterly recall leaving my other prizes alone in their room, quivering from an orgasm with no thought of real aftercare.

Eyes wandering to Bernadette wobbly on her feet, possessiveness burns through me.

“Come on, I’ll drop you off at Ford’s.”

I can’t let this beautiful woman, reeking of sex, walk around Manhattan light-headed.

TWENTY-TWO

BERNADETTE

With our hands linked and the taste of my sex on his lips, Emery sendsMrsAustnto New Haven alone, ruining her ploy to drive together.

The limo drives off and his name on her car irks me with irrational jealousy. But he threw her out so he could lick my clit until I screamed his name.

“Speaking of names, your wife kept yours?” I ask, as his limo,MrAustin,pulls up.

“On her limo? You saw that, huh?” He insists on driving me to Ford’s building. “Get in, you.”

My phone’s been silent. I hadn’t heard from Ford. Or Ash.

Odd because it’s well past quitting time, and I’m not home. Are they even looking for me?

Are they together? Lost in themselves?

“Yes, she kept my name.” Emery brings my attention back to the conversation. “But Warren had a very long, tongue-twisting Slavic name. She couldn’t take my name fast enough.”

“I guess it made it easier on Jess.” I watch the Midtown skyscrapers give way to Central Park as we drive the few miles up Fifth Avenue.

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