Chapter 3
KAYLEIGH
I always thought my sister exaggerated the details of her auction experience.
But the sex dungeon themed room Alida described to me a couple of Christmases ago is shockingly accurate—down to the dungeon-like headboard on the oversized bed with a variety of restraints on the bedside table next to it.
It’s an erotic torture chamber Elliot Bishop is apparently well acquainted with.
I’m still recovering from the shock of spotting him behind the seated audience, raising his hand to toss in his bid.
A hundred thousand dollars.
It’s four times the amount I was prepared to ask for yesterday, if only the arrogant cowboy had given me two more minutes before he told me, in no uncertain terms, to get off his ranch.
So what the actual fuck?
I’d ask him, but the jerk basically shoved me in this erotica playroom and commanded me to stay put until he returned.
His abrupt departure almost an hour ago has given me nothing but time to take in all the many kinky details.
It’s not like I can sneak out of this exotic mansion unnoticed.
Not in this damn sparkly red dress, anyway.
“Too bad my fucking change of clothes is in the dressing room,” I grumble.
Not that it matters. If I disappear before the terms of the contract are fulfilled, I won’t see a dime anyway.
I can’t let this whole thing be for nothing.
If I don’t get the money—
“No,” I say, blowing out a heavy exhale. “Not going there.”
I refuse to let panic take over and focus instead on the BDSM wonderland I’ve only read about in very naughty books.
It is oddly fascinating. Whips and leather restraints are draped across a red velvet chair in one corner.
An apparatus I’m certain is some sort of sex swing built for two hangs from the high ceiling, right in the center of the room.
A sawhorse-like table thing is covered in a black leather cushion and restraints near the foot of the bed.
I run my fingers over the smooth leather as a vision of Elliot bending me over this contraption, my hands tied to its ends and my dress bunched up around my waist, assaults me without warning. A zing of pleasure goes straight to my core as I envision his thick cock pounding into me from behind.
Either I’m a special kind of fucked up, or maybe this turn of events isn’t so bad.
If I’m being honest, I’ve had a secret crush on Adam’s dad since the day I met him.
It probably didn’t help that I ran into Elliot right after his shower.
I still remember those damn water droplets glistening off his muscular chest as he backed me up against the wall, caging me in with one hand because the other was clenching the towel at his hip.
Maybe tonight I’ll get to play out that dirty little fantasy, along with a few others I’ve had about the man.
No one ever has to know it happened.
It almost feels like a win-win.
Almost.
I tug open a dresser drawer and gasp. It’s filled to the brim with brand-new, still-in-the-box vibrators, dildos, and a bunch of other devices that are both mildly intriguing and borderline terrifying.
But it’s the intriguing part that draws my fingers into the drawer toward some contraption called a rose. I tug the device from the drawer and discover it’s a two-part toy. One part rose with a tongue and one part dildo.
I glance back toward the door, but there’s only silence. No click of the deadbolt releasing. No rattle of the knob.
God only knows how long I’ll be left on my own.
Maybe Elliot’s back at the auction, bidding on another prize.
I’m not sure if the rules allow that, but considering the way he silenced the entire audience with his over-the-top bid, he’s probably allowed to do whatever the hell he wants in this place.
Whatever he wants to me, a naughty little voice whispers in my head.
Wetness pools between my legs, and I’m desperate for a release.
Elliot never said anything about not entertaining myself in his absence, which is why I take the rose device to the bed. What’s the harm in having a little fun while I wait to see what fate awaits me?
I tug down my black lace panties, leaving them on the floor as I toss the lush comforter to the side and settle into the silk sheets.
At home, I hide my toys beneath the layers of blankets—mostly so my cat, Meatloaf, won’t pounce out of nowhere determined to kill said toy. But here, in this exotic sex chamber, I feel brazen. I leave the sheets tossed aside, exposing myself.
I hike up my dress until it’s bunched around my hips—much like I did in the fantasy I pictured with Elliot bending me over the cushioned sawhorse—butterfly my legs open, and press the button to turn on the vibrator.
The dildo starts pumping unexpectedly in my hand, and I start with a shriek.
Then I laugh.
“Wow, this is…animated.”
It’s a small dildo, but I have no doubt with it’s pointed tip that it’ll do the trick once it’s inside me.
I press it to my opening and push it into my sopping wet channel.
My hips roll as it slides inside, and I sigh at how impossibly good it feels.
Am I imaging Elliot’s cock pressing inside me in its place? Yes, yes I am.
And I don’t care how wrong it might be. I’ve needed this since Elliot turned me away yesterday.
An image of his face flashes behind my eyes, and I moan again.
He’s not wearing the grumpy, asshole expression though. Not in my fantasy. He’s wearing the same wicked look he did that day in his hallway. One that promised he wanted to devour me, even though he had no idea who I was or why I was in his house.
Had Adam not announced his presence two seconds before appearing in the same hallway, there’s a solid chance I’d have let Elliot fuck me up against the wall.
I press the second button to activate the tongue on the center of the rose, laughing again at how animated it is.
I spread my pussy lips and place the tongue between them as the small but mighty dildo pulses inside me.
“Oh,” I groan, alarmed at how quickly pleasure builds in my core.
The door flies open.
Elliot slams it shut behind him.
“Fuck,” I cry out, unable to yank the sex toy free.
I’m too close—too gone. “Elliot,” I cry out, unaware of my slip-up until the pleasureful moan of his name escapes my throat.
But it’s too late to take it back. Too late to use words or reason.
I explode from the inside out, and this man with his back against the door watching me only heightens the euphoric pleasure that ripples through me.
I have zero regrets.