CHAPTER 7 – PREPARING FOR THE BIG DAY #3
I force myself to slow down, not to run, even though every part of me wants to collapse into his arms and demand an explanation for all the things he does to my head.
Instead, I take the path around the big reflecting pool, past the rose garden, past a group of men chatting with cigars in their hands.
I pretend not to see the girls parading in heels and nothing else, their big breasts bobbling.
I try to look casual and nonchalant, but when I pass a window, I realize my cheeks are red and my chest is rising fast.
I reach Hunter. He looks at me and for a second the whole world falls away. He smiles—crooked, perfect, showing off the dimple in his cheek. I almost melt from his nearness.
“Hey, Daisy,” he says, voice low enough to be a secret. “Have a seat,” he invites, gesturing to a nearby table.
“Hey yourself,” I say, and slide into the chair at the table as he sits as well.
A server floats by, leaving a tray of pastries and a pot of tea. I notice that Hunter’s hands are bronzed and capable, and unbidden, I wonder what it would be like for him to feed me. To caress me when I’m in the bath. To stroke my pregnant tummy when it’s filled with his child.
His child? What am I thinking? As a result, I clamp my mouth shut and just smile, heart racing.
We sit in silence, thank goodness. It’s not awkward, just weighted, like we’re both waiting for the other to make the first move. The sun is in my eyes, so I squint at him. “You look good,” I say in a dulcet tone.
He laughs. “Thanks. You look different.”
“Is that bad?”
He shakes his head. “Not even a little. You look incredible, Daisy.”
I flush, suddenly shy. I fidget with the napkin in my lap.
After a beat, he says, “How was the pool?”
I stifle a smile, remembering the high of showing off my curves with a dozen eyes on me. “Pretty fun, actually. Sophia says I’m a quick learner.”
He nods, then looks at me, really looks. “Yes, Sophia’s one of our best tutors, or so I’ve heard. Are you nervous about the auction?”
I bite my lip, trying to put the feeling into words. “Not really. I mean, I should be, but mostly I’m just excited.”
Hunter watches me, something hungry and dangerous simmering behind the blue. I feel it everywhere.
I pour us both tea. He takes a sip, then says, “You don’t have to do it, you know. If you’re scared, I can pull you out. One call, and you’re on a plane to anywhere you want.”
My breath hitches. “Is that what you want? For me to run?”
The alpha male doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he breaks a scone in half, smearing it with orange marmalade. “You remember anything yet?” he asks, casual but not casual at all.
I think of the flashes from the suite—the coffee shop, the blue sapphire, the voice I can’t place.
“No. Sometimes I think I do, but it never sticks. Does that make me crazy?”
Hunter’s eyes darken. “Not at all.”
I want to ask him what comes next. Whether he’ll bid on me at the auction. Whether he’ll win. Or if he’ll let another man claim my curves for the first time. But the words get caught in my throat.
Instead, I say, “I like it here at the club. I like being seen.”
He smiles at that, and I see something hidden there.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, softer.
He sets his cup down, then reaches across the table for my hand. His palm is big and rough and warm.
“I’m just worried about you, sweetheart,” he says. “That’s all.”
I squeeze his fingers. “You don’t have to be. I’m good.”
We sit like that for a while, sipping tea, sharing bites of cake. The sun gets lower, and the garden fills with a golden light that makes everyone look beautiful. A breeze picks up, carrying the scent of honeysuckle.
At some point, Hunter’s hand drifts up my arm, resting lightly on my shoulder. I lean into it, feeling a flood of heat run up my spine.
“Are you really okay, Daisy?” he asks, so quiet I almost miss it.
I look at him, and the answer is obvious. Yes, with him, I’m at ease. In fact, I’ve never felt more alive.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I’m okay.”
There’s a pause, a breathless second where anything could happen.
Then, I do it: I lean across the table and kiss him.
It’s a little clumsy and desperate, more a collision than a kiss, but his mouth opens for me, soft and so familiar. He tastes like black tea and orange and man. I’m not sure who pulls back first—maybe both of us, because it happens so fast.
My cheeks go nuclear. “Sorry—” I start, but Hunter shakes his head, cups my face in both hands, and kisses me again, harder this time.
The second kiss is even better, deeper and longer, and when we break, my lungs are empty and my lips feel swollen.
We’re both breathless.
He touches his forehead to mine, his granite jaw sharp. “I’ve wanted to do that for so fucking long.”
“Me too,” I say, and we both laugh.
It’s not until I lean back that I notice: people are watching.
At the next table, a pair of men in linen suits are openly staring, not even pretending to mind their own business. A trio of women at a marble bench are giggling behind their hands. But no one seems surprised or offended. At Sanctum, displays of PDA are obviously nothing.
Hunter sees me notice, and smirks. “No one minds,” he says. “We have a lot of exhibitionists, as well as a lot of people who like to watch, so this is totally par for the course.”
“Good,” I say, and reach across to steal another kiss, just because I can.
But Hunter’s not going to let me get away so fast. He runs a hand down my neck, slow and heavy, and cups my breast through the thin cotton of my dress. The squeeze is possessive, gentle but not gentle. My nipple pebbles instantly. I gasp, glancing around, but he doesn’t let go.
“Hunter—” I whisper, mortified and turned on in equal measure.
He leans in, voice like velvet. “You want me to stop?”
I shake my head, and he smiles with all his teeth.
His palm kneads my breast in slow, lazy circles, and I shiver. I glance at the others, but everyone’s gone back to their business. Even the server who refills our tea acts like it’s nothing, eyes down, polite as ever.
Hunter’s thumb brushes my nipple, and I nearly moan. My whole body goes limp, and I have to grip the edge of the table to stay upright.
“You’re going to be a star,” he says, voice dark with promise.
I look at him, all haze and hunger. “What if I don’t want anyone else to have me?”
He holds my gaze, unblinking.
“Then don’t let them,” he says. “But if you want it… let them see what I already know.”
I melt, right there in my chair.
Without breaking eye contact, I gently reach down and undo the top buttons of my dress so that my breasts are revealed, ivory and luscious.
Hunter’s blue eyes gleam, and then with a low growl, he bends his head and gently laps one nipple, before suckling the other.
Hot jolts go to straight from my breasts to my cunt and I moan, lashes closing as my head falls back.
Oh my god, he makes me feel so good! I’m wet between the legs and mewl again as Hunter suckles deeply.
But after a few minutes, he gives me one last kiss on my left nipple before raising his head.
“I love that you just let me do that in public, sweetheart, because it means you’re ready. You’re ready to display yourself before the men of the club.”
I’m too dazed to answer, so he merely chuckles softly and re-buttons my dress for me. Then, he walks me back to my suite, arm around my waist, hand occasionally dipping just a little to caress my big bottom.
At my door, he kisses me again, softer now, but with a promise that makes my knees want to quit.
“Tomorrow,” he says. “Auction day. Are you ready?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
He presses his forehead to mine. “I’ll be there,” he promises. “I’ll be watching.”
I want to ask him if he’ll be the one to win me, but I’m too scared of the answer.
Instead, I let him go, and step inside my room.
For a long time, I just stand there, heart pounding, lips tingling, nipples still hard where his hands and mouth touched me.
I look at myself in the mirror. The girl there is wild and flushed and a little dangerous.
I think she’s perfect.
And if I have to be auctioned off in front of the world, then so be it.
I just hope Hunter bids high.