“The Gambler,” he said dryly. “I’m depressed as hell and the best you can come up with in the way of comfort is quoting Kenny Rogers.” He shook his head. “Shit I hope I’m not that bad,” he mumbled. “If I am it sure as hell explains why women prefer to go to other women for comfort.”
He grunted again. “My point, bud, is this: if you’re not happy, then fuck this place. You’ve got plenty of money and you don’t need to put up with any of this bullshit. You can do whatever the hell you want to do. You can be all that you can be—”
John frowned. “Now you sound like a goddamn ad for the Army.” He snorted, the twinkle back in his eyes. “Nevertheless that was a simple, but true statement.”
Jack grunted. “I’m a simple but true man.” He glanced at his watch. “Shit! I’ve got to get over to that auction. But listen, after I go get my woman I’ll come back to check on you and we’ll talk some more.”
John’s eyebrow rose. “Your woman?”
Jack sighed, his hand running tiredly over his jaw. “Remember the elusive witch I told you about that night when, kinda like you are now, I was sitting around drunk and depressed?”
“Yeah. So?”
He frowned. “Krissy and the witch are the same woman. Seems my prudish little professor decided she wanted to be a wild child for five days,” he growled.
John chuckled. “I wasn’t one hundred percent certain who she was, but I knew she wasn’t doing it for the money.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “So maybe this place had its use after all.” His smile faded. “Though I’m still ready to close it down after this excursion.”
“Don’t blame ya, bud.” Jack affectionately slapped him on the back. He sighed, changing the subject. “I don’t like leaving you like this, Johnny.”
John waved that away. “You’ve got a Frenchman to outbid. And really, Jack, I’m fine. I feel a hell of a lot better now that I’ve admitted how I feel to myself. And to you.”
Jack nodded. “I’ll still be back.” He thought about the auction for a moment and frowned. “And if Frenchy outbids me, I’ll be back with Krissy.”
John snorted at that. “Plans for kidnapping her already?”
“Hell yeah,” he growled. “I don’t share.” He frowned. “I don’t want another man near her, okay?”
Which was Jack’s way of saying he was falling fast and furiously for her. If he hadn’t already.
John nodded. “Understood, bro.”
“Good.” He slapped him on the back again, then turned on his heel to walk away. He stopped abruptly, then turned his head to face John. “Do you, uh…”
John’s brow furrowed when he didn’t continue.
Jack cleared his throat and blushed. “Do you, you know…” He coughed into his hand. “You don’t need a goddamn hug or something, do you?” he muttered.
John’s blue eyes widened. He threw his head back and laughed.
“It ain’t that goddamn funny.”
When his best friend finally stopped laughing, he was happy to note that the twinkle hadn’t disappeared from his eyes. “Um…no.” He grinned. “But thanks for the offer.”
Jack grunted. “Thank God. I would have, ya know, but it would have been weird.” He frowned. “And I don’t believe Kenny Rogers has a song about shit like that.”
On the night of the auction, Kris’ nerves were wound as tight as a coiled spring. Forty women in total had been lined up, all of them wearing black silk robes that were draped in such a way as to show off their cleavage, and matching black silk thongs that were concealed by the thigh length robes.
She thought it seemed a bit odd that, on all of the nights to clothe the women, John had elected to do so on the evening they were to be auctioned off to their three-day masters. But she supposed she could understand the psychology behind it, giving the high bidders the right to peel off the clothing of their sex slaves whenever they felt like doing it.
Strange, but she felt more naked while clothed than she’d felt while actually naked.
Because now she felt like a dressed up sex doll waiting in the store window to be purchased. And damn if the feeling didn’t arouse her just as she’d known it would.
She would have to use that arousal to her advantage while wearing pigtails and a shaved pussy for Lauren because she’d given up all hope of Jack attending the auction tonight when he’d failed to appear ten minutes ago as the opening bids had begun.
Not that she wanted to face him again. Indeed, she had tried for the last several hours prior to the auction to find John Calder and beg her way back to San Francisco without being auctioned off at all, but hadn’t been successful. Where John had gone off to she had no idea.
“Come on, boys,” the auctioneer said as he opened Barbi’s robe and, standing behind the woman, began fondling her large breasts and playing leisurely with her nipples. “Three days with these huge tits are worth a hell of a lot more than two thousand dollars. Do I hear twenty-five hundred?”
Twenty-five hundred.
Barbi purred as the auctioneer began massaging her nipples from the base, stroking upward from areolas to tips over and over again.
“Do I hear three thousand?”
Three thousand.
“Do I hear thirty-five hundred? Going once. Going twice. Sold to Mr. Lawrence for three thousand dollars.”
Barbi smiled seductively at Mr. Lawrence. But then she would if she wanted to earn a big tip when the three days were over. She left the stage to join the other two women he’d already bought and paid for, both of them already on their knees taking turns sucking his cock while he leisurely sipped from a beer and watched the auction.
When Kris’s name was called to come out on stage, she felt panicked enough to vomit. She took a steadying breath, told herself it would only be for three days, reminded herself that she really wanted to experience sexual submission to a man once in her life, and walked toward the stage with a welcoming smile on her face. Besides, John Calder had up and vanished so she had no way to escape the auction.
The cheers and catcalls immediately filled the room and the auctioneer wasted no time in taking advantage of that fact.
“The next slut up for purchase is Krissy, the island’s only natural redhead, and one of the more popular girls during this excursion.” He covered the microphone for a brief moment and muttered under his breath to her, “calm down—I can see how nervous you are. Do this just like we practiced and you’ll have a good time and all of us will walk out of here with bucket loads of money.”
She nodded, then smiled out to the cheering crowd.
Kris tensed up when she saw Lauren wink at her, wondering again what he had meant last night when he’d told her he meant to punish her for making him wait to fondle her. But when she considered the fact that she’d be at his mercy for the next three days she decided to sweetly smile at him rather than stand there and worry.
He smiled back as he absently stroked the hair of the naked woman sitting at his feet. Like Mr. Lawrence he had already purchased two other women, so she would be his third sex slave.
“We’re starting the bidding on Krissy at three thousand dollars. Who will bid three thousand dollars to have the exclusive use of her succulent cunt for three nights in a row?”
“I will.”
Kris gasped at the sound of Jack’s growling, surly voice. Her heart raced as she watched him stroll into the auction room wearing an expensive Italian business suit and a lot of attitude. But then he always wore those things.
She didn’t know what to think or how to feel. Part of her was elated that he’d shown up, but the other part of her was embarrassed to see him again after the way she’d freaked out and ran off last night. Especially considering the fact he hadn’t come after her.
Lauren’s eyes narrowed at Jack. “Four thousand.”
“Five thousand,” Jack countered, not missing a beat.
Kris’ eyes widened. Why is Jack doing this? she wondered, her heart wrenching more than she cared to admit. He hadn’t followed her to the communal hut last night when she’d run off, so naturally when she’d had time to calm down and think things over she had assumed he wasn’t interested in her anymore.
She blew out a breath. Perhaps her worst fear was true. Perhaps his interest in her didn’t extend beyond the sexual. He was here tonight to bid on her for sexual purposes, but last night when she’d needed comfort he hadn’t given her any, or even sought her out to make sure she was okay.
Or perhaps Jack had wanted to give you some time to be alone, believing you’d want to recuperate in your own way
, an inner voice nagged.
Lauren scowled at Jack. “Six.”
“Seven.”
Kris gulped. She stared open-mouthed at the men, her gaze flicking back and forth from one to the other, for the life of her unable to understand why they’d spend so much money on a singular woman, and on herself in particular. Nevertheless, she thought as her heartbeat accelerated, this entire situation made one thing gloriously clear:
Jack wanted her. Even if only for three nights.
Even if only for sex.
And she did want to have sex with him—lots and lots of submissive sex.
It was time to let tomorrow take care of itself, she decided. For tonight she would revel in the knowledge that Jack was willing to spend seven thousand or more dollars to have sex with her for three days.
When her time on the island was over she’d worry about her heart.
“Do I hear eight thousand dollars?” the auctioneer asked, looking pointedly at Lauren Thibauld.
The Frenchman’s nostrils flared as he glanced at Jack. “Eight,” he gritted out.
“Nine,” Jack countered, cool as ice.
Silence.
“Mr. Thibauld?” the auctioneer inquired.
Lauren was quiet for a suspended moment. Kris was certain the entire room could hear the mad beating of her heart while they all awaited his answer. In fact, her heart was pumping so wildly she scarcely heard it when the auctioneer cried out, “sold to Mr. McKenna for nine thousand dollars!”
She stood there dumbly, her legs feeling weak and her heart racing. The entire scene felt so surrealistic she couldn’t seem to move.
“Go to Mr. McKenna,” the auctioneer said under his breath to her. “He’s waiting for you.”
Kris’ head came up slowly, her gaze finding Jack’s. He crooked an arrogant finger at her and motioned with it for her to come to him.
She took a deep breath and, forgetting her earlier promise to herself, wondered again how she’d ever get through the next three days with her heart intact. She also wondered how she’d ever be able to face him on the mainland as if nothing had happened between them, as if she hadn’t spent three days as his sex slave.
Lord help her, she was already in love with him.
Kris quietly stood next to Jack as he paid the auction bill at a table that had been set up near the room’s exit. His right hand was underneath the black silk robe she wore, absently caressing her ass as he waited for the cashier to process the payment to his credit card. She shivered when his finger lightly traced the cleft at the top of her buttocks, the spot extremely sensitive to touch.
“Thank you, Mr. McKenna,” the cashier said as he handed the credit card back to him. “You’re free to go.”
Jack nodded, but said nothing. He patted Kris’ backside to get her to move, but didn’t speak to her as the two of them made their way to his hut. His callused hand continued to stroke her ass as they walked, that being the only communication there was between them.
Kris found the lack of words coupled with the light grazing of her buttocks extremely arousing. But she also found the silence deafening. She wondered to herself if Jack was angry that he’d forked nine thousand dollars over to spend three nights with her—wondered too if he was already regretting it.
Hey it was his choice!
she mentally sniffed.
If he’s regretting it then he has nobody to blame but himself.
Her chin thrust up as they continued to walk towards the hut—a defensive action that didn’t go unnoticed by Jack. His eyebrow inched up as he glanced down at her, but he said nothing since she pretended not to notice him.
Only when they were at last inside of the hut, the thatched twig and stone doors closed firmly behind them, did Jack speak to her. “You better get off your high horse, professor,” he said broodingly, taking off his tie as he strolled toward the bureau. “Nine thousand dollars is a hell of a lot of money,” he growled, “and I plan to get my money’s worth.”
Her chin remained notched. “I am not on my high horse,” she said in a prim tone that for some reason or another Jack brought out in her as could no other. “However,” she said regally, “I did not ask you to buy me.”
I just hoped you’d want to.
“And,” she finished quietly, glancing away, “I refuse to take the blame if you’re not happy with the fact that you did.”
His eyebrows rose as he took off his cufflinks and set them on top of the knotted pine bureau. He grunted. “Take off your robe. And, by the way, professor, who says I’m not happy?”
She hesitantly looked back at him. “You just seem sort of, I don’t know.” She waved a hand. “Surlier than normal I guess.”
He rolled his eyes and sighed.
Her back went ramrod straight. “You don’t need to make fun of me,” she said in the pompous, prim tone she reserved for her arguments with Jack. She removed the robe as he’d barked at her to do, letting it flutter to the ground. “I was just trying to gage your mood—”
“Krissy,” he growled.
Jack closed his eyes when her chin inched up. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a long moment, then sighed again as his gaze flicked back to hers. She could tell he didn’t think she was properly subdued for a woman who’d just been bought as a sex slave.
“Let me clue you in on something, sweetheart,” he rumbled out, his eyes occasionally straying down to look at her naked breasts. “I paid nine
thousand
dollars to fuck the shit out of you. Nine
thousand
dollars.” He frowned. “Maybe the weird rich guys who frequent places like this would spend nine thousand dollars on a woman
just because
. I don’t.”
Her pulse began to race. It wasn’t exactly a proclamation of undying love, but it was a start. Her chin slowly anchored down to its normal position as she listened to the rest of his diatribe.
“I mean, no pussy is worth nine thousand dollars…”
She frowned at him as she felt her pulse return to normal. So much for making her heart quicken.
He grunted as he reached down beside the bed and picked up what looked to be her valise. “…except maybe yours,” he conceded on a grumble.
Lordy, lordy—there went her damn pulse again. She wet her lips as she watched him slowly stroll towards her.
Jack’s dark gaze raked over her naked breasts as he came to stand before her. She took a deep breath, her heartbeat working overtime. “Here,” he barked as he handed her the valise.
Kris blinked. Her brow wrinkled as she hesitantly accepted the small suitcase from him. “I-I don’t understand…” She felt like she was going to be ill. “You want me to get dressed and go home?” she breathed out.
His eyebrows drew together. “Hell no,” he snapped, sounding every inch the surly beast she’d fallen head over heels for. “I want you to get dressed, but there’s no way in the hell you’re going home.”
She sighed, one hand straying up to rub at her temples. “I don’t understand…”
Jack pressed his big body in close to hers. He took one of her hands and placed it firmly over his erection. “Does this feel like I want you to leave?” he asked thickly.
Her heart began thumping heavily against her chest. “No,” she whispered. It felt long and thick and hot—and hard as steel.
He ground his hips against her, grinding his cock into her palm. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk,” he murmured. “I’m going to shoot so many loads of cum in your pussy in the next three days that you’ll start to feel unnatural when you’re not dripping my juices from between your legs…”
Her eyes widened as she stared at him, her arousal causing even her skin to tingle.
He placed his hand over hers and squeezed, smashing her palm harder against his erection. “…but I want my professor,” he rumbled out, his dark gaze raking over her face. “I want the real Kris Torrence, not the woman she’s pretending to be for five days.”
And suddenly she understood why he wanted her to get dressed, why he wanted her to put back on her drab university clothing…
Because he wanted to sexually dominate Kris, not Krissy. Because he was more interested in having sex with the professor than with the prostitute.
She wet her lips as Jack released her hand, feeling nervous and unbelievably aroused. Jack wanted
her
—the real her. The unfashionable, average-looking, Dr. Kris Torrence. Any other man would have wanted the sex kitten. But Jack wanted the mouse.
Damn it, he was getting to her heart. He was no poet, that was for certain, but this gesture—and obviously one he’d taken the time to think on if he’d acquired her valise—was the biggest bolster to her sense of sexual self-worth she’d ever been given. She didn’t have to pretend with Jack. She could just be herself.
Kris glanced away, nibbling at her lower lip. Lord this was confusing. On one hand she was elated by what he wanted her to do, but on the other hand she was terrified. She and Jack had a long history together, and other than what she now realized to have been tremors of sexual awareness that had passed between them, none of it had been pretty. They had squared off as if in battle for two years, yet now…
“You’ve had fantasies about me before then?” she whispered before resuming her nibbling.
Jack frowned. “For a Ph.D. you’re not a very quick study.” When she shot him a scathing look, he grunted in typical Jack fashion. “Lady, you have been my every dream and my every fantasy for the last two goddamn years…”
Her heart raced. Had she said he wasn’t a poet?
“…you’ve also been my every nightmare, but that’s beside the point.”
Her lips pinched together. Nope, definitely not a poet.
Jack slashed a hand through the air. “I just spent nine thousand dollars to get three days of on-demand submissive sex from you. I’ll be damned if I’m not getting the professor for those three days.” He flicked at one of her nipples with a finger as if he couldn’t seem to help himself, then frowned as he strolled away. “I’ll be back in an hour with food. Be dressed when I return so I can undress you.”
Kris took a deep breath as she watched him stroll toward the doors, not knowing how to feel.
He raised an eyebrow as he looked at her from over his shoulder, his mouth unsmiling as always. “You’re my possession,” he murmured. “For the next three days I own you.”
Jack waited for her to nod. He left as soon as she did.