Chapter Three
Grace
I’m a nervous mess.
All my bravado and fake confidence withered the moment the guard escorted me off the stage. Everything has been a blur since I found out what this place really is, and I haven’t had time to catch my breath.
And now I’ve been sold to the highest bidder and I have to please him. I stand in place and stare at the wide and relaxed frame of the man sitting on the couch before me. Even under the blue lights, I can see the sharp planes of his face, and the dark hair that teases at his finely carved brows.
He’s the Audi driver from the parking lot. The man I foolishly dreamed would save me. And now he’s bought me at an auction—purchased my virginity.
My heart skips a beat at the realization.
I stiffen my body, betraying no emotion. I don’t know what to make of this situation, but I can’t afford to appear weak. I’ve learned from my dad that people sense your fear and use it against you, to control you.
And right now I need my wits about me. I can only trust myself and do my best to survive.
I watch the handsome stranger. He seems agitated, angry.
Have I already done something to make him angry?
I know from my father the danger of taking one wrong step around a man who’s used to being in control.
But then this man meets my eyes, and I get the feeling that this man is different. There’s something…kind about him.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says softly, his voice deep. “I’m going to help you, keep you safe. We’ll get out of here, but we need to stay in here for a bit longer, make them think you’re giving me a show.”
I frown, confused. “So, you don’t want me to…please you?”
His jaw tightens and I see his hands grip into fists, like he’s barely holding on to control. “I want you to feel safe,” he says. “And I don’t want you to please me just because you’re following their orders.”
The vitriol in his voice makes me realize that his anger isn’t directed at me, but at my captors. All of a sudden I’m flooded with gratitude and the desire to please this man.
How does one please a man?
“And if I want to please you…to say thank you?” I ask hesitantly. His bright eyes darken immediately, and I hear him inhale sharply. “How would I do that?”
I walk closer, until I’m just a few steps away from him. My breath catches at his intense stare. I should be scared of him, but I find myself drawn to him.
He slowly sits up straight, and I’m shocked as I take in the true size of his body, clad in a black suit and well-tailored pants.
“Don’t be scared, sweetheart,” he says in a soft tone, then gestures at me. “Come here,” he orders.
His voice is deep and mesmerizing, and I can’t help but obey. His command is like a magnet that pulls at me, blowing my fear and uncertainty out the window.
“What’s your name?” he asks gently, not taking his gaze off me.
“It’s…Grace,” I say, in a whisper.
His eyes soften at my response, and I’m taken aback by it. “I’m Theo Kane,” he says. “How old are you, Grace?”
“Nineteen,” I answer softly, and I stiffen slightly at his growl of approval, watching his eyes flare with desire.
Slow music starts to play in the room. It’s seductive and sensual, gliding over my skin and sinking into my very core. I know it’s my cue to dance, but I start to fidget, nervous under his heated stare.
“It’s alright, sweetheart. You’re safe here with me. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Take your time, and I’ll be here whenever you’re ready,” he reassures gently, putting me at ease.
My gaze stays locked with his, and I draw enough courage to let go of my inhibitions. I close my eyes and let go, giving in to the music and allowing my body to move. Dancing is my guilty pleasure, my way of escaping my troubles. When I’m dancing, nothing else matters.
I slowly open my eyes, and they meet Theo’s hungry ones. He’s dangerously captivating with his back straight and his legs spread wide. My nipples tingle and gradually pebble under his intense gaze, and the feeling sends streaks of pleasure to my core.
I don’t understand what’s going on. Why do I suddenly want to move closer to him and feel his touch?
He stretches his hand out to me, and I instinctively place mine in his, allowing him to tug me into the space between his legs. This close, I can see the color of his eyes. They’re cobalt blue, framed with dark lashes, and I shiver slightly at the penetrating stare.
“Are you scared of me?” he asks gently as his fingers glide slowly over mine.
I find myself nodding in response.
“Don’t be, sweetheart. I won’t ever hurt you,” he assures.
Given the circumstances that led me to this point, I shouldn’t trust a word he says. But for some reason, he makes me feel safe.
“Have you ever done this before? Been with a man?” he asks.
“No,” I whisper, ducking my head. I don’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes.
A calloused hand cups my cheeks and lifts my face. “It’s not hard to please me, sweetheart. I love what you were doing earlier. Just touch me a little more.” He slowly glides his hands down to my neck, then grazes my breasts and slowly spans my waist, leaving a trail of current in his wake.
My breath trembles as I slowly do as he says. I slide my hand from his neck down to his chest, dancing and gliding over him the only way I know how. The darkening of his gaze spurs me on, feeding the raging fire of pleasure that builds inside me while his hands stroke over my exposed skin. Teasing.
Every touch, every glide, heightens my desire until my whole body is tight and hot. A soft moan leaves my lips as his thumb grazes a hard nipple, and I tremble, almost halting my movements.
I can’t take my eyes off him. It’s both scary and exhilarating how much I’m enjoying this. I drink in his possessive stare, marveling at how he struggles to hold on to his control. My gaze goes to his hard shaft, clearly straining against his pants, and my sex tightens in response. I can’t deny the high I feel, knowing that I make him hard.
As if on cue, he grabs my waist and slowly lifts me to straddle him. “Grind yourself on me,” he orders.
There’s something about his tone that makes me want to do everything he says. So, I grind on him, pressing my wet sex over his hard shaft through our clothes. I move with the slow beat of the song, not taking my gaze from his. He slides his hands down my body and grabs my ass cheeks, pressing me down on his cock. Soft whimpers escape my lips at the contact, and I wrap my arms around his neck, sinking my fingers into his hair.
With every movement of my hips, an ache grows inside me, spreading heat and need. My whimpers turn into moans as Theo pushes into me from below.
“Fuck, yes. That’s it, sweetheart,” he rasps. His hot breath fans the sensitive skin of my earlobe and neck, and I grow even wetter.
The need to let go becomes urgent. My body is a hot and achy mess as I writhe against him, undulating and trembling. My hands tighten in his hair and he speeds up, creating friction until I’m at the peak. Then he grinds hard and deep on the same spot and I spill over.
“Oh God!” I moan, and I press my face into his neck, trembling hard.
As I gradually ease back to a normal state, my chest heaves softly and I flush as I remember the way I moved wantonly on him. What would my father say if he saw me shamelessly hanging off a stranger? The thought fills me with shame.
Theo gently tugs my hair, pulling my head back until I’m staring into his cobalt-blue eyes. “Don’t be ashamed, sweetheart,” he says, as if reading my mind. “You did nothing wrong.”
“Thank you,” I reply softly, blushing under his warm and tender stare.
“How did you get here?” he asks me, a steely undertone entering his voice.
His unwavering stare gives me the confidence I need as I answer him. “I…I ran away from home…”
I tell him about the close call at the shelter, about the man who offered me a job, the drugged tea he gave me. “The next thing I know, I’m on a stage being auctioned off to strangers,” I finish softly.
“I’m sorry you had to go through all that, sweetheart,” he says soothingly.
Then he frowns. I want to smooth the folded skin between his brows, but instead my fingers convulse at his nape. “Why did you run away from home?” he asks.
Memories flash through my mind—my father’s shouts, his fist raised in anger. I instantly shut it down. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not now,” I say softly. I don’t want to dampen my mood with negative thoughts and emotions.
“It’s alright,” he assures, then continues, “I’ll make sure nothing like this ever happens to you again, but just in case—no more trusting strangers,” he chides me softly, cupping my cheek with his hand.
“What about you? Given the circumstances, I shouldn’t trust you either,” I say, feeling a little more confident in his arms.
Theo smirks and leans in to nip at my lower lip. “I’m the only exception. And I promise that I’ll never hurt you.”
His gaze is intense and steady on mine, pulling me deeper. And in that moment, I know he’ll never waver from that promise.