Mastered by Bliss (The Auction #4)

Chapter 1

1

Gage

My phone won’t stop ringing. I put it on silent, but it continues to buzz and light up on the coffee table.

Dmitri, wearing his tuxedo pants and his unbuttoned shirt, stalks back and forth in front of the television. His path will soon wear a trail in the polished wood floor. He keeps dialing Leah’s phone. She’s not answering.

Where did she go? It’s incredible that she managed to sneak out without Dmitri and me realizing.

And Nic’s dead.

Dead .

I woke up to the call from Francesca Sterling. She broke the news gently. I don’t know how I feel about Nic. How should I feel? She wasn’t the first person to sabotage my life, but she certainly did a good job of it.

Selfishly, I’m worried about the rest of the Shinies. Javi died. Nic died. Todd was hit by a car. Claudia was nearly run down. Who’s next?

I pick up my phone, even more worried about Leah. Irrational. She wasn’t in Academy of Ghosts . She isn’t even an actor.

The most recent text message is from Jessica. It reads simply, Be careful, Gage.

She’s drawn the same conclusion I have: someone is coming after us.

“I can’t stay much longer.” Dmitri scowls at his phone screen. “I promised my sister I’d go to Easter Sunday service, since our parents are still being assholes.”

His sister only recently forgave him for hiding his relationship with Leah. It makes sense that he can’t break this promise.

“Where the fuck is Leah?” he mutters.

Impatience isn’t the only thing causing his irritation; I can tell he’s worried about her. The news of Nic’s death is recent. If the paparazzi find Leah….

The door opens. I stand up just as Leah comes into view.

“Shit, baby.” Dmitri strides toward her and cups her face in one of his big hands. “I was worried.”

Leah’s face is white. She holds up a bag and a to-go tray of coffee. Standing behind her is Seth Colton.

A swear word is waiting on my tongue.

“I just walked her back,” Colton says before I can speak. “We met in the lobby, walked to the coffee shop. When we were there, we saw the news.”

My words are tight and clipped short. “Thank you for seeing her home.”

He hears the dismissal, offers us a disarming smile, and disappears out the door.

Dmitri takes the coffee and bag from Leah’s hands while I march over and take her into my arms.

I’m mostly reassured. At least she’s here, safe. “Are you okay?”

“I…yeah. I wanted to surprise you both with coffee and breakfast, and then Seth was there. And then…people were staring. Talking about me.” She takes a deep breath, her chest expanding against mine, warm and soft. “Are you okay?”

I breathe in, immediately calm. “I’m okay now.”

“Leah.” Dmitri hovers awkwardly nearby. “I have to go. It’s?—”

She pulls away from me to give him a hug. “Easter, I know. Your family has church.”

His mouth turns downward as he pulls back to button his shirt. “I’m only going for Danica. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She smooths the frown from his forehead and stands on her tiptoes so she can kiss his cheek. “It’s important. I’ll call you later.”

A strange feeling washes through me as she watches Dmitri leave. It isn’t jealousy or sorrow, but it carries a similar weight.

Tenderness. That’s the feeling.

And a desire to keep this dynamic forever. Dmitri and me, loving Leah.

She might not believe that love can last, but I’ll believe hard enough for all three of us.

* * *

Dmitri

I’m late to the service. Only by a couple of minutes, though. I find Danica near the back and slide into the pew next to her. She flicks me an annoyed glance, but reaches over to squeeze my hand.

Large, arched windows of stained glass allow in the muted light. The polished wooden pews are stuffed full of people wearing their Easter finery. I feel like an ass wearing last night’s rumpled tux, but the only person to give me a strange look is Danica.

The service is long and boring. My attention wanders. Somewhere near the front of the church are my parents, my aunts, and my cousin Rachel. If Patrick is there…

“Stop sending death glares.” Danica smacks my arm. “The priest is starting to freak out.”

She’s exaggerating. I think.

Community prayers are listed in a sympathetic monotone by the priest. Granddad is mentioned. He’s still at the hospital, but recovering quickly. He’ll be released soon.

As soon as the last prayer is prayed, Danica stands up and starts toward the door. I follow her, puzzled at her rush. Obviously, we don’t want to talk to our family, but they’re all the way up front. The crush of Easter churchgoers will prevent them from reaching us for at least fifteen minutes.

As we practically sprint past the far rear pew, I catch sight of a familiar face.

“Was that Troy Manchester?” I whip around, trying to see, but Danica grabs my hand and drags me from the building.

I think it was Troy. Which means Edmund isn’t far—those two are never apart.

Danica ignores my question. “Let’s get out of here before Mom and Dad corner us.”

I allow her to pull me away, but I really don’t fucking like the Laytons sticking their noses into our territory.

* * *

Gage

In the evening, Leah and I turn off our phones. It’s time for quiet, and I want to be fully present with her. Before this, I spent an hour on a call with Claudia, reassuring her that I’m being as careful as possible. We don’t have many details of Nic’s death, but we do know she had returned to LA shortly after midnight and was hit by a car while crossing a street.

One moment, alive and spewing poison at my girlfriend. The next moment, gone.

I’m determined not to let her death mess up my routine. She did that enough while she was alive.

“What do you want for dinner?” I ask Leah as I start toward the kitchen.

She looks up from her book. “You aren’t going to Low Vice?”

“I’m staying in with you. We’ve had a very busy twenty-four hours.” I hesitate before adding, “I’m going to hire some private security.”

She nods. “That’s wise. I don’t think Claudia is wrong to worry about you?—”

“I mean for you.” I continue into the kitchen.

“What?” She sets down her book and follows me. “I don’t think you’ve noticed, but it isn’t my former coworkers who are getting picked off by a homicidal driver.”

I snag a pot from one of the cupboards and fill it with water. “I don’t think you’ve noticed, but you were locked in a bathroom by my ex. She could’ve had a weapon?—”

“But she didn’t.”

“She could have.” I place the pot on the stove and twist the knob for the burner.

“Well, hell, by that line of reasoning, any passing stranger on the street could have a weapon. Danica’s cat could have a weapon. Actually,” Leah mutters, “the cat itself is a weapon. But anyway, the world is a dangerous place, but not every person has a personal bodyguard. If they did, who would guard the bodyguards? And who would guard the bodyguards’ bodyguards? And the bodyguards’ bodyguards’ bodyguards?”

She folds her arms across her chest, obviously very pleased with her argument.

I turn off the burner, because this discussion is requiring my full attention. I should have expected pushback on the personal security bomb I just dropped. “Are you done? Or are there more bodyguards’ bodyguards you’d like to mention?”

“No. Because in the end, I don’t need a bodyguard, so they don’t need a bodyguard either.”

I want to laugh at her mulish expression, but I know she’s serious. “Two weeks, Leah. Please.”

She must see the anxiety and concern in my eyes, because at long last, she nods. “Two weeks. But what about you? You’re the one who’s really under threat.”

“I can take care of myself.”

She starts to retort that she can also take care of herself—I can see the comeback on her full, pink lips.

“Don’t, Leah. Please just accept a two-week security detail.”

“I already said I would, okay?” She spins around and stalks out of the kitchen.

I stare at the pot of water sitting atop the cool stove. I wipe my hands on a dishtowel, just for something to do, before I stalk after her.

She paces back and forth in the hall, between my bedroom door and hers.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

She gives me a bleak look, her blue eyes watery with tears. “I don’t know which room is mine.”

I point to her room. “That one is yours.”

Her mouth turns down like she’s about to cry.

I point to the other room. “That one is ours . Get in there now, baby girl. You need someone to take charge.”

She doesn’t argue and hurries through the door.

I follow her through. It’s dim in here, but not completely dark. “You’re right in that you can take care of yourself. You’re right in that the danger is probably worse for me. But it would make me feel better, and allow me to be more vigilant for myself, if I know you are taken care of. Does that make sense?”

She nods, her eyes downcast.

“Little girl.” I sigh. “I love you. I want you. I’m taking charge to help us both, and we’re doing this in our room. Understood?”

“Yes, Daddy.” She risks a look at me, enough that I can see the certainty in her eyes.

After closing the door and making sure the curtains are closed all the way, I say, “Strip.”

The only light comes from a lamp next to the bed. I stride to the dresser while Leah removes her clothes. The bottom drawer has exactly what I’m looking for.

When I stand up, holding the brand-new anal plug still in its packaging, Leah, naked, gasps and shakes her head.

I tut and hold the package higher. The stainless-steel plug is capped with a light blue jewel. “You’re going to wear the plug, little girl, whether you like it or not.”

“Not, not,” she whimpers.

Her trepidation shouldn’t get me so hard, but I can’t deny that it does. Not to her, not even to myself.

Still, I’m not that much of a sadist. I sit on the edge of the bed. “Up on my lap, sweetheart. Let’s talk about it.”

I arrange her so she’s straddling me, the heat of her cunt pressed against the ridge of my eager cock. I curse the jeans I’m wearing, while grateful; they keep me from plunging right into her.

I stroke the curve of her ass, soothing. And, I hope, arousing. “Why don’t you want to wear the plug?”

She burrows her head against my chest. “It’s—it’s so big. And it’s dirty.”

I grab the base of her ponytail and tug her head back so I can look into her eyes. “No part of you is dirty. If Daddy wants to touch you there, don’t you think he should?”

“I’m embarrassed.” She presses harder against me.

“I guess I’ll have to show you how good it can be. I’ll help you through every step of the way.” I kiss the corner of her mouth. “Will you try this with me? We’ll stop whenever you want.”

She kisses me back, her lips eager. I let her have her way for a long moment. I think she secretly wants the plug, but she doesn’t know how to admit it.

“Leah, sweetheart.” I pull back from the kiss. “Are you going to try?”

After a deep breath, she nods. “I’ll try.”

“That makes me very happy to hear. Not just for me—but for you. I think you’ll love this.” I ease her off my lap and stroke the curve of her hip, toward her backside. “Up here, on your hands and knees. Safe word is red.”

While she gets into position, I unwrap the plug and take it into the bathroom to wash it with soap and water. I grab a bottle of lube and return to the bedroom. There, I feast on the vision before me.

Leah is gorgeous positioned against my dark gray sheets, the faint lamplight illuminating her curves and hollows. I remove my shirt but keep my jeans on.

I kneel behind her and spread her ass cheeks apart. “Let me look at you.”

She hides her face against the mattress. “This is so embarrassing.”

“My fingers have been here before.” I stroke the little opening. “You liked it then.”

Her answering whine is music to my ears. She needs to be eased into this, however. Instead of going directly to penetration, I use my other hand to gently stroke her cunt. Nothing directly against her clit, but playing in her wetness, stoking her pleasure. Soon, she’s panting. Her hips move subtly to push her cunt against my hand.

With my other hand, I stroke her asshole.

Leah gasps.

“See, it isn’t bad.” I continue stroking. Patient. Unyielding. I lube up the plug and play with it against her hole.

She tries to wiggle forward even while moaning.

A little slap to the ass and, “Stay still for Daddy,” puts her back in place. “Good girl.”

I ease the plug partway in before pulling it out. It’s thicker than my fingers so I’m stretching her, helping her get used to its thickness.

“Daddy, please.” She clutches the sheets.

“Please stop?” I hold the plug still. “Or please keep going?”

“I—keep going.” Her voice is faint, but clear. “Please?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. Push out, sweetheart. It’ll be easier, I promise.”

When she does as I ask, it helps the plug fit all the way in.

“So beautiful.” I tap the blue-jeweled base, watching it sparkle in the soft lamplight. “How does it feel?”

“Weird.”

“I bet. Don’t worry, you’ll be begging for the plug after tonight.”

“Doubtful.”

She sounds sullen, which I love for some reason—probably a sadistic reason, if I’m honest.

I get a condom and turn off the lamp, plunging us into darkness. “It’s time, little one. You’re going to feel very, very full.”