Auctioned to the Billionaire

This girl—this sweet girl with her exquisite body and tight virgin pussy—is going to be my ruin. I can already tell. Turning my body so she can’t see what she’s done to my dick, I reach for the phone to call room service. “Now I feed you. And then—then I feed myself again.”

5

Felicity

I’ve gotten off before. With my own finger and the tiny clit vibrator Wendy gave me as a gag gift a few Christmases ago. The sensation of Jackson’s mouth devouring me, though, had pushed me over the edge. And I haven’t quite finished pulling myself back up.

Never before have I let go like I did with him. In the privacy of my bedroom and beneath the showerhead, my orgasms have always been tame, accompanied by tiny gasps of pleasure. Coming for Jackson was … different. With him, I had screamed until my throat was raw. I had pulsed against him and grasped any part of his body my fingers could find just to draw him close to me so he wouldn’t stop.

After my climax, he had called room service, his sensually low voice so professional it was almost as if the encounter never happened for him. But then he’d looked at me and cast a wicked grin. “Yes, dessert as well,” he’d said, licking the pad of his thumb—the same digit that teased my body. “I’m in the mood for something sweet.”

His expression and those words were all it took for my body to revolt against my head.

I want more from him. Soon.

Another tremor shakes through me, but I curl my bare toes as he reaches into the dessert dish on the coffee table to offer me a plump raspberry drizzled in chocolate sauce. I simply stare at him, so he pushes it past my lips. My heartbeat accelerates, thumping like a chaotic drum, because my taste still lingers. Mixed with the flavor of his salty skin, the chocolate, and the fruit, it’s intoxicatingly erotic.

“You have to eat, sweet girl. You need your energy,” he drawls. From his sly expression—his half-closed eyes and shit-eating grin—it’s obvious he knows just how much this is affecting me. Being this close to him for the entire night has affected me.

An hour ago, I’d gathered the nerve to walk inside the penthouse only to have my world shattered. My mysterious bidder was none other than the man who possessed me to accept this arrangement in the first place. He had bid a small fortune just to be my first.

I’m not sure whether to feel honored or conned.

I swallow the berry and wash it down with a sip of champagne, closing my eyes because the expensive bubbles go straight to my head. “You offered me ten times more than I owe you,” I say huskily. His fingers touch my lips again. This time, he’s not offering me a berry, only his skin. He circles his fingertip around the tip of my tongue, his breath missing a beat at my moan, then he cradles the side of my face. “Why would you do that?”

“Why would you sacrifice yourself to save your silly father’s debt?” he counters.

“Don’t call my father silly. You wouldn’t like it if I insulted your dad.”

His grunt tears through the air, and I part my eyes just enough to observe the tight twist of his full lips. “You can say whatever you’d like about my father, and I wouldn’t care.” He pours me another glass of champagne. “But I do care about getting an answer to my question, sweet. Why sacrifice yourself?”

“You want the truth?” I ask over the rim of my champagne flute. He nods briefly, so I continue, “My roommate posted that listing without my knowledge. I didn’t realize what she did until the next day when a rep from V-Bay called.”

There’s probably not much that surprises a man like Jackson Cade—I have a feeling he’s seen and heard it all—but he leans back on the couch and strokes his chin at my revelation. “And you left it on there?”

“I wasn’t going to. But then I started to think about all the good things I could accomplish. I could help my father, you know. He and my mom risked everything for that restaurant.” A sharp pain pierces my ribcage when I mention my mom. Since Jackson took it upon himself to gather a dossier on my life, I’m sure he’s already aware my mother died of an aneurism my senior year of high school. While my father had secured the loan for York’s, the restaurant was Mom’s baby. When she died, the defeat I saw etched across Dad’s features became a permanent part of my life.

Jackson feathers his calloused fingers over my cheek, encouraging me to finish. “I guess the thought of Dad losing the place, of everyone who works for us not having a job, got to me more than the idea of giving up my virginity. Plus, I’m in over my head with student loans. I know you don’t understand because—”