Page 20 of Auctioned to the Lumberjacks (Auctioned)

It’s the wordusethat causes a hot pulse of heat to clench my internal muscles.

Why do I find the baseness of his actions and the harshness of his words arousing? West told me I have something in me that enjoys the way they are. Maybe he’s right.

“Take off your clothes and get on the bed.” Jack squeezes my wrist, and I let go of his cock, fumbling to strip away Finn’s shirt and my tank, shoving my pants and underwear over my hips. I don’t look at Jack, but I feel his burning gaze on me as I climb onto the bed and lay on my back.

I expect him to flip me onto my front like last time. I expect the same remoteness he fucked me with when West and Finn were in the room, but I’m wrong to make assumptions.

So very wrong.

He returns from his dresser with lengths of rope in his hands, and I lay frozen, knowing what’s coming next and completely powerless to do anything to stop it.

You need to prove to him that you’re not scared of him.West’s words linger at the edges of my mind. I’ve had years of pretending not to be terrified. Years of plastering a smile onto my face and concealing the tremble of my hands.

Jack is cold and ruthless, but Carter was worse.

Carter was a cold-hearted killer.

Jack’s face is impassive as he ties my left wrist to the left corner of his bed. He slowly and methodically does the same thing with my right. He eyes my feet but must decide that he wants them free, at least for now.

Even though it’s futile, I test the ropes, finding them secure.

I tell myself that if Jack goes too far, West and Finn will come for me. They’ll stop Jack if he loses control.

There’s no sign that he will, though—just the eerie coolness of a man eyeing property and deciding what to do with it.

I keep my legs pressed together and bent slightly. When Jack rounds the end of the bed, I anticipate him forcing them open, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pushes my lower body to one side so my bent legs are pressed into his comforter. He runs his hand over my exposed hip and ass with gentle strokes that feel strange coming from him. He lulls me into a trance-like state with his calloused palm, and I close my eyes, wondering how he wants to do this to me when there are so many other options. Then, without warning, his hand slaps my ass so hard, I cry out.

The burning wave of pain takes my breath away, but then Jack rests his big palm against my ravaged flesh, calming the sensation. My eyes meet his in the flickering yellow light, and there’s no excitement in their depths. There’s just a cold calculation where a soul should be.

He spanks me again, this time even harder, and I whimper as he rests his thumb against my asshole and presses rhythmically. I clench against any intrusion, but he doesn’t stop,and a strange warm feeling of arousal tickles over my clit and pools low in my belly.

Again, the weight of his palm stings my skin.

By now, I must wear his handprint on my ass, but the pain diminishes more quickly, leaving liquid heat in its place. His fingers penetrate my pussy, pressing hard against the front wall as he spanks me again and again.

My mind is blank, my body like a stranger as Jack takes me so close to coming that I can taste the sweet pleasure on the tip of my tongue.

Then he stops.

The bed shifts, and his footsteps retreat across the room. I groan in disappointment, and he chuckles darkly.

“If you’re a good girl…if you do everything I say, then maybe I’ll let you come.”

I press my thighs together, chasing the pleasure that’s receding fast. I know some women can come like this, but I’m not lucky enough to be one of them. What would Jack think if I could take what I need without his help? He’d probably be furious.

He returns with a knitted hat, which he puts over my head and eyes, blocking my vision. The material is too thick to see through and the light in the room is too dim. Without my sight, the panic inside me rises.

Jack’s hands find the insides of my knees, and he pushes my legs open as wide as they will stretch. “You have a pretty pussy, Skye. So pink and soft.” A rough finger drags wetness from my entrance up and over my clit, making me moan. Then his beard scratches the inside of my leg before his tongue laps at my pussy. Oh god, it feels different without all my senses. The control he has over my body pulls at my arousal like a piece of elastic stretched to its breaking point.

I moan and writhe at the exquisite pleasure, coming so close, I strain against the ropes on my wrists, but then he’s gone.

Sound pours from me, tortured and desperate, and his laugh is wickedly pleased.

The bed shifts again, and a scraping sound from the corner of the room makes me flinch. Jack’s returning footsteps are slow and ominous. “Are you ready?” he asks.

“For what?”

“I think you’ve earned your pleasure.”

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