Sweet Persuasion (13 page)

“Quit getting down on yourself, Julie. From all you’ve said, I have to think you didn’t have sex. Nathan doesn’t strike me as the type to take advantage of a woman when she’s drunk.”

“But what if I took advantage of him?” Julie squeaked.

Serena laughed again. “Nathan is a big boy. Chances are he put you to bed and left. Simple as that. What you ought to do is call him and tell him you appreciate the ride home then offer to make him dinner as a thank-you.”

“You’re a fucking genius. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Does this mean you’re finally going to make a move on the man?” Serena asked.

“Uh, maybe.”

Serena closed her eyes and shook her head. “For the love of God, Julie. You make me crazy. Faith and I are supposed to be the wimps, not you. Remember? You’re Miss Brass Balls, take no prisoners. So start acting like it.”

“You’re right. I’m totally unworthy. I bow before your great- ness.”

“Shut up and go call him,” Serena said in exasperation.

“I know this phone call has been all about me, but the whole reason I called was to say good luck tonight. There’s no doubt I think you’ve lost your marbles, but in a weird, twisted way, I’m insanely jealous and I hope you have a great time at, um, your slave auction.”

Serena grinned as a tingle of excitement fluttered around her stomach. “Thanks, Julie. I’m going to be out of the office for the next week so I’ll catch up some time after that.”

“Oh wait, fuck no, you don’t. You can’t just disappear for a week after being sold in a slave auction,” Julie sputtered. “What if he drags you off to his cave somewhere and molests and kills you?”

“Are you just trying to scare me?”

“Yes! Use your head. You’ll call me the morning after the auction or I’ll call the police and have them beat down Damon’s door. I don’t care how close he is with Faith or how gorgeous the guy is. For all you know he could be a serial killer.”

“Thank you for that,” Serena muttered.

“Sorry, hon. I don’t mean to ruin your night, but someone has to beat some sense into your pretty head.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll call you the next morning.”

“Good. Now off you go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow and you can tell me how your first night in slavery went.”

“Irreverent bitch,” Serena muttered.

“You love me.”

“Good-bye, Julie.” Serena took the phone from her ear and punched the button to end the call.

She laid the phone on her desk and glanced over at the clock. If she wanted to get home and showered and primped, she needed to leave now. She needed the downtime to collect her composure before Damon’s driver picked her up, because she was a mass of chaotic nerves.

She piled the paperwork into a bunch and shoved it all into her briefcase as her impatience to get home nipped at her. After a quick glance around her office to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything, she headed down the hall to have a quick conversation with Carrie.

Carrie had been delighted with Serena’s decision to take a week off, even if she didn’t know why. She assumed Serena was taking her first vacation in years, and in a way, it
was
a vacation. From reality.

After gaining Carrie’s assurances that she’d call if anything came up she couldn’t handle, Serena left the office building and headed to her apartment.

First she indulged in a long soaking bath as she tried in vain to calm her overwrought nerves. Faith had called her that morning and described her experience at The House so that Serena wasn’t walking in totally blind, and after hearing Faith’s account, she was that much closer to hyperventilating.

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but Faith’s description of the openness of the club goers’ sexual activities made her feel like a fish out of water before she ever set foot there.

Hello, you
are
a fish out of water
.

Fish out of water about to jump from the goldfish bowl into the freaking ocean.

Thanks to a trip to Julie’s, she was waxed and buffed from head to toe and all parts in between. She was confident in her appearance and that she wouldn’t scare anyone with her nakedness. She gulped at the mere thought of being nude in front of a roomful of men. It was just so . . . decadent. So very bad girl of her.

After a look at the clock, she put it in high gear. She didn’t worry too much about what to wear since she’d be naked for most of the night, but she took special pains with her hair. Not that she did much to it, because she knew Damon liked it long and trailing over her shoulders, but she brushed it until it shone.

As for makeup? She got the giggles as she sparingly applied foundation and left off eyeliner, mascara and lipstick. If things went according to her fantasy, eye makeup and lipstick would be rather silly. Damon probably wouldn’t appreciate bright red lipstick on his cock.

She sucked in her breath as she imagined taking him in her mouth. Would he take her e-mail literally? Would he replicate all aspects of her fantasy or would he use it for a general guideline? She didn’t know, and that uncertainty added to her breathless excitement.

How would he taste? Would he be big or small? Would he be gentle or forceful?

She didn’t want gentleness from him. She wanted to tap in to the power that she sensed was tightly held just underneath the surface. She wanted him rough and hard, demanding and forceful.

The doorbell rang just as she was reaching for her sandals. Her stomach lurched up into her throat as she thrust her feet into the shoes and nervously smoothed her hair with damp hands.

She reached for her overnight bag and headed for the door. When she swung it open, Sam stood there, his big body filling her doorway. He inclined his head.

“Miss James, are you ready?”

“Yes,” she managed to croak out.

He reached for her bag, and she relinquished it to him. She quickly locked up and followed him to the Bentley.

The drive seemed to take an eternity. With each passing mile, the tension coiled and swelled within her. By the time they pulled into the winding drive of a large estate, she felt lightheaded, and her pulse pounded loudly at her temples.

Sam parked the car, and her door opened immediately. She found herself staring into the face of a handsome man. His expression was enigmatic, and he simply held his hand out to her.

She took it with trembling fingers and allowed him to help her from the car. She started forward, but the man tugged her back with a sharp pull until she stood at his side.

“I am your keeper,” he said by way of introduction. “You will heed my instructions at all times.”

She blinked and nodded.

“Yes, Keeper,” he prompted.

“Yes, Keeper,” she stammered out.

He nodded in approval. “I’ll escort you in and prepare you for the auction.”

He took her elbow in a surprisingly gentle grip as he guided her toward the door. Silence greeted her when they stepped into the darkened foyer. Before she could look around and absorb her surroundings, her keeper hurried her down the hallway. He paused outside a door then opened it and directed her inside.

It was a small room but was lavishly decorated. The furnishings were expensive, simple, but extremely tasteful. It looked to be a sitting room, or even a changing room, as there was no bed. Just two armchairs, a full-length mirror and a vanity. To the side, there was an open doorway to a half bathroom.

As she did a small circle, taking in the room, her keeper’s hand touched her shoulder.

“It is time to prepare you,” he said.

His fingers went to her T-shirt, and she almost batted his hand away. He paused for a moment and leveled his gaze at her. He didn’t back down, but he also didn’t barge ahead. He exerted his authority even as he gave her time to adjust to his touch.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m a nervous wreck.”

He didn’t reply, though a half smile niggled at his lips.

“I can undress myself,” she offered, thinking to save him the awkward task.

He raised one brow and shook his head. “You are mine until another purchases you. It is my duty and my right to ready you as I see fit.”

Her eyes widened, and her stomach knotted and convulsed. Oh hell, this was it. She tried to relax as he slowly lifted her T-shirt over her head. He directed her to raise her arms and she did so almost mechanically.

It took every bit of her will not to fold her arms protectively over her lacy bra. Instead, she let her hands fall to her sides even as her fingers curled into tight balls.

“You will fetch a high price, indeed,” her keeper murmured.

His fingers trailed up her arms, raising goose bumps on her flesh. When they reached her shoulders, he hooked his fingertips under the straps of her bra and slowly tugged them downward.

She held her breath as the cups lowered until her breasts were free of confinement. She wanted to look at him, to get a better view of his appearance, but she was too afraid to raise her gaze so she kept her focus on his abdomen as his hands circled around to the clasp of her bra.

Deftly, he unhooked it, and he tugged until the bra fell to the floor at her feet.

Softly and sensuously, his palms grazed her waist as he moved around to the button of her jeans. Her nipples were puckered and hard, standing taut as though begging for attention, for his touch.

His fingers slid into the waistband of her pants as he worked the zipper down and parted the fly. And then the denim rasped along her hips and down her legs until they too fell in a heap around her ankles.

There she stood in front of this stranger, her keeper, in just her panties, a mere wisp of material, transparent and hiding nothing of her femininity. Was she crazy for the surge of excitement that cut razor sharp through her veins?

Her keeper stood back for a moment, his gaze raking up and down her body with what could only be classified as pure male appreciation. No longer did she seek to hide from him, for she felt alluring and seductive, as though she held the power and not he.

He was handsome, and appealing, but
he wasn’t Damon
. She nearly shook her head. Were it not for the fact that Damon had volunteered, this could well have been the man she’d give herself to for her fantasy.

Her keeper stepped forward and placed his hands at her slim hips. There was a moment’s pause and then he slipped the thin string of her underwear down. The lacy scrap fluttered down her legs, lightly brushing the insides of her knees.

He held his hand to her and she took it as she stepped free of her jeans and underwear. She was completely and utterly naked.

He moved to the vanity and rummaged in the drawer until he drew out a brush.

“Come here,” he ordered quietly.

She obeyed with no hesitation, and once she stood before him, he gestured for her to turn around.

He began brushing her hair, stroke after stroke, until the strands lay soft and wispy down her back. His fingers alternated with the brush as he worked both through her hair from scalp to the very ends.

Finally he was done, and disappointment shuddered through her body at the loss of his touch. She wondered if he’d brushed her hair to comfort her and calm her, but then he grasped her arm in his commanding grip and turned her around, all hints of gentleness gone.

He took one of her hands and pulled it behind her, and then he claimed the other one, pulling it as well until he held her wrists together at the small of her back. Rope scraped across her skin, abrading her flesh as he bound her hands.

When he was done, he left her for a moment and returned a mere second later. He carried a leather belt of sorts. It looked more like a tether or a leash, though the circlet was far too large for her neck. Her unspoken question was answered when he secured the belt around her waist.

There was a hook in the front that the lead attached to, and it was then she realized that he was going to guide her with the harness. His hand cupped her chin, and he forced her gaze upward to meet his.

“You will speak only to answer a direct question asked of you. You will respect my authority and that of the man who ultimately purchases you. There will be many men watching you, wanting to touch the flesh that they would bid on. I will be at your side to protect you, and you are to trust that I will not let anyone go too far.”

“Yes, Keeper,” she whispered.

“Good, then we are agreed.” He gave a slight tug on her leash as he started for the door. “It’s time,” he said, and she followed him with shaking knees.

CHAPTER 12

H
er keeper led her down a darkened hallway lit only by sconces on the wall. There was a decidedly medieval feel to the house, and she wondered if it was always so or if Damon had arranged a more atmospheric setting for her fantasy. Surely not. He wouldn’t have had time for such a venture, nor would he waste that kind of money, would he?