Moody Bastard

“Ooh. Nice,” Regina said with a smile, p

ulling out a leather rope.

“You’re going to be bound and that’s the way the lady will take you home.”

“Am I expected to fuck them?”

“Of course not! It’s just for fun. They’re basically paying for a date. It’s called A Date with a Millionaire, but if you want to sleep with them, you’ll have to do it at another time. The charity won’t be responsible for any lawsuits, you understand.”

He smiled at her indulgently. He had the finest women at his disposal, perfectly formed, perfectly capable of pleasuring. He wasn’t interested in a woman desperate enough to pay for a millionaire.

Just to think of all the effort that went into being Bentley Knight made Damien want to puke. Hell, the press itself made him want to puke, but he stopped caring what people thought of him long ago. In fact, he derived pleasure in shocking and irritating them.

Shirtless in slacks and tied-up like some convict, Damien was summoned up to the stage. The crowd went crazy, the flashing lights on his face making him scowl. Ahh, man.

“Ladies and gentleman, I have for you, the one and only diamond king of this continent! They say a diamond is a best friend? Well this is the father of all diamonds, a millionaire bachelor that puts the bad in bad boy, I give you Damien Knight, bound for you, and ready to make your wild dating dreams come true tonight!”

He scowled when the crowd cheered.

“The bidding will begin at ten thousand dollars. Do I hear twelve?”

The screams were deafening. He felt like a stud horse. He was used to doing the selecting. Definitely not a good feeling to stand here and wait for some chick to buy you, but all right. Whatever.

“Twelve thousand!”

“Twelve thousand to the lady in green. Do I hear fourteen thousand?”

Damien quickly became bored as they went back and forth between dozens of pallets. Until they reached fifty thousand, only a few remained. The most insistent was the number 10. Beginning to end, number 10 kept outbidding the others. He peered around the woman in front of her to see who she was. And scowled.

Hair tied in a bun, face without makeup, hell, she looked like someone’s little kid. She was now competing with a blonde in a tight dress, and Damien’s narrowed gaze returned angrily to the little mousy woman, wishing she would quit.

She was dressed plainly in a button sweater, from what he could see. She was the kind of girl that dreamed about him. The kind of girl who’d always been warned by her mama against bad boys like him. Except now that he was filthy rich, the mamas told them to snag him and let him have his fun wherever he could take it. Oh, yeah, he knew little virgins like her, aching to be deflowered by someone like him.

She would probably dream of him tonight. And climax.

“Eighty give thousand? Do I hear eighty five thousand?” Damien smiled sexily at the blonde, a smile that promised he would do her all the ways to Tuesday. She raised her pallet, eyes widening in excitement. Immediately, ten came up again. Damien glared at her, gritting his teeth. Was she even old enough to bid here? She looked like a coed. She instantly irritated him. Something about her made him want to growl.

He needed a new experience to entertain his jaded libido, and this prim brown mouse with the bun and who looked like a college girl wasn’t going to do the trick.

The blonde with the big tits might.

The war between the two continued.

Until they finally hit six digit numbers. “One hundred and ten thousand?” the auctioneer called, and number ten rose once more.

Damien had never seen such a determined woman in his life. She may almost be crazy. What did she think she was going to do with him tonight?

“One hundred and twenty thousand? Anyone?” the auctioneer insisted.

Silence.

The hammer fell on number ten.

“Sold! For one hundred and twenty thousand dollars.”

Damien cursed Bentley Knight to hell.

Oh, lord.