Page 7 of Auctioned to the Lumberjacks (Auctioned)

I told myself I could endure it for Hallie.

I told myself I could get through anything if I just kept my end goal in mind.

I imagined lying back and thinking of carefree days in my past or dreaming of carefree days in my future. I believed that I could be a passive participant in fulfilling the needs of my owners. But that isn’t what this is, and I don’t understand why.

“Skye.” The sound of my name on Finn’s lips cuts through all my confused thoughts. “Fuck, Skye.”

And I come when he does, going slack in his arms as he slumps back against the plaid blanket, taking me with him.

“That’s it. My turn.” Jack hooks his arm around my body, pulling me from Finn before our sweat has had time to cool. Finn’s cock slips from inside me, and with it, liquid trickles, wet and warm, down the inside of my thigh. Like a rag doll, I’m pushed to the bed facedown. Jack’s calloused hands grip my wrists together over my head, and he wraps them with warm leather, his belt or West’s.

Panic surges through me, but I close my eyes and step outside my body when he tugs my hips up until I’m on my knees with my legs spread wide. His fingers probe roughly for his enjoyment, not mine, pumping in and out as though he wants to clean his friends from inside me. I grit my teeth, but then thepad of his middle finger finds my clit, and I almost scream. It’s too swollen. Too sensitive. I can’t take the pain of raw nerves and violent intrusion, except when he replaces his fingers with his cock, and enters me like a battering ram, I come so hard, I can’t hold myself up. Instead, Jack supports my limp frame, hooking his huge branch of an arm beneath my stomach and holding my body exactly where he wants it until he, too, fills me to the brim.

Tears leak from my eyes, not because it hurts but because I can’t hide the way any of these men have physically destroyed me and put me back together. Carter’s pretense at emotion was so much worse than the indifference of these men. At least I know what they need and expect. If this is their worst, I know I can endure the year.

You like it.My internal whisper is both shocking and right.

I’m a masochist.

I’m disturbed.

I’m deranged for experiencing this pleasure, for not at least putting up some kind of fight.

And the reality is like a punch to the gut because I was never like this before Carter found me, and kept me, and broke me into a million pieces.

After, Jack stalks from the room. Finn unhooks the belt from my wrist and pulls the blanket over me. West stands by the wall, his face in shadow, so I can’t make out his expression.

Words hang in the air between us, but none are spoken for long, empty seconds.

“Sleep now.” Finn climbs from the bed, lingering as though he’s waiting for me to say goodnight.

When I remain silent, he follows West from the room, closing the door behind him.

I stare at the wall; rough plaster painted a shade of off-white. Unfamiliar shadows lurk in every corner, and I tug the blanket over my head, curling onto my side until I’m just a small lump beneath the fabric. Between my legs, the presence of the men outside this room lingers.

Tears burn my throat, but I won’t shed them. I don’t have the luxury of crying. No one cares if I’m happy or upset. No one will comfort me, so what’s the point?

I try to sleep, but it remains elusive. Too much cortisol in my bloodstream. I don’t want to be on high alert, but I am.

Eventually, I push the cover down and sit up. I pull the shirt closer around me and search the floor for my underwear, slipping from the mattress to retrieve the damp fabric from the floor. More cum leaks from inside me, and I press my legs together, not wanting to make a mess on the floor. I wipe myself clean with my panties as well as I can, then search for the bag that holds the items West purchased for me; it will make a temporary laundry hamper. I can wash them tomorrow by hand if that’s all that’s available. This cabin doesn’t seem to be filled with modern appliances, but maybe I didn’t notice them.

I didn’t take in the room before, but now I find myself perplexed at the vase on the dresser and the soft pillows that decorate the bed. A rug on the hardwood floor runs down one side of the bed as though they were worried my feet would getcold when I woke in the morning. Things feel carefully placed, as though the three brutish lumberjacks wanted to make me feel at home.

It could have been Finn alone. Of all of them, he’s the only one who touched me with any kind of care. I run my hands over the wooden chair in the corner, finding the surface smooth and warm. It’s handmade, of that I’m certain. Beautiful craftsmanship that maybe one of the men here possesses.

The items West bought spread across the dresser, and I look at each one before folding and placing them into the top drawer. Everything looks like it will fit, which stuns me. How did a man with arms big enough to tear trees from the ground and a body like a bear know how to shop for a strange woman? Even the bralettes and panties he chose are the right fit. He bought me feminine hygiene products, even though he must have been embarrassed. The image of him standing in line with them makes me shake my head.

I drift to the closed door, pressing my ear against the smooth wood, straining to hear. The cabin is silent, each of the men having returned to their separate rooms, most probably. I listen and listen for so long that my ear hurts and my neck is strained. When I feel confident the coast is clear, I turn the handle tentatively, bracing myself for any noise that might wake them. It opens smoothly as though it’s been recently oiled. A dim light emanates from the open-plan living area, and I walk slowly forward, searching the shadows, frantically trying to work out if I’m safe.

In the kitchen, I find an overturned glass by the sink and fill it slowly from the faucet, not caring if it’s perfectlycold. I gulp down a full glass and then another, my thirst feeling unquenchable and my stomach completely hollow. The refrigerator stands tall to the right, and I stare at it, debating whether I should search for the food I desperately need. Just a slice of bread or a piece of cheese would get me through until morning. I place my hand on the handle, poised to open, when a low hiss cuts through the silence behind me.

“Looking for something in particular?”

I swivel, finding Jack looming close. He’s wearing loose shorts which hang low on his hips revealing the insanely cut musculature of his chest and abs. His hair, which had been roughly fastened, is long and loose, hanging in waves that should look pretty but can’t when he’s so damned rugged. His lips are a mean line buried in his thick blond beard, and his arms hang at his sides, braced for some unknown fight.

He’d have no trouble tearing an average man limb from limb. I wouldn’t stand a chance if he turned his coiled rage on me.

“I didn’t eat today.”

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