The Auction (The Original Sinners Pulp Library) Read online

  “So your doorkeeper is the Grand Prize? I pity whoever wins her,” Daniel said. “She’s beautiful, but the personality could use a little work.”

  “They won’t be bidding on her personality,” Kingsley said. “They’re bidding on her virginity.”

  Daniel only stared at Kingsley.

  “You’d be ill-tempered too if you were still a virgin at twenty-four,” Kingsley said. “The last time we had a virgin in the auction, the highest bid went into six figures. Most we’d ever made off one person.”

  Kingsley winked at him as he opened the door for Daniel. He continued, “Now are you sure I can’t get you anything? Something to eat, to drink? I feel so inhospitable threatening your life without even lunch after.”

  “I’m really fine. I think.” Daniel’s mind still boggled. Anya, the temperamental doorkeeper, not just a virgin but a prize virgin up for auction… Kingsley lived in a very different world than the rest of the unwashed masses.

  “Perhaps something stronger than lunch,” Kingsley said as he veered off onto the second floor instead of heading down to the entrance. Daniel narrowed his eyes and followed. “Perhaps a little of this is what you need before you go.”

  Kingsley stopped in front of a door and opened it. Looking in, Daniel saw Irina, the beautiful Russian brunette, naked on the bed, kneeling in submissive silence, her long dark hair flowing like water down her back.

  All day long Daniel had been trying to put his finger on the reason why, of all places, he’d come to Kingsley’s first when coming back to America.

  Now he put his finger right on it.

  Kingsley said, “Welcome home.”

  2

  At his side, Kingsley smirked while Daniel stared at Irina and considered the offer.

  It wasn’t as if he’d been celibate this past year while traveling. Although Daniel’s heart remained faithful to the girl he’d spent one perfect week with, his body had demanded more than bittersweet memories. He’d had lovers—several of them—during his travels in South America. Vanilla trysts only. He’d never felt close enough to the women or safe enough to reveal the real Daniel to them. So while the sex—passionate and rough—had satisfied his physical hunger, his soul craved more.

  Still, any gift offered by Kingsley Edge usually came with strings attached. Or ropes. And yet…

  This is what he’d wanted. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have come here.

  “Anything I should know?” Daniel asked. His heart raced a little faster, his blood warmed.

  “She’s well-trained. Her safe word is ‘Stalin.’”

  “Stalin? Really?”

  “Nothing kills the mood faster than bringing a genocidal maniac into the bedroom. She’s not in love with pain, but don’t be afraid to be…” Kingsley paused for effect. “…thorough.”

  “Thorough,” Daniel repeated, the word causing his groin to tighten pleasantly.

  “Enjoy your lunch. I’ve already had mine.”

  “Then what’s that?” Daniel nodded to the end of the hall where a young man—pale and handsome and at least ten years Kingsley’s junior—waited outside the door to the master bedroom.

  “Dessert.”

  Kingsley and his dessert disappeared into the room, leaving Daniel alone with Irina.

  He stepped into the bedroom and shut the door behind him.

  For a full minute, he stood directly behind Irina so he couldn’t see her face. Her hair was a shade too light and the body a bit too willowy, but if he wanted, he could almost pretend this beautiful submissive was…

  No. He stopped his thoughts in their tracks. He’d done that to Eleanor the first time they’d had sex. He’d closed his eyes, pretended he had Maggie back. Now he regretted the lost memory of his first time with her.

  “Irina. Russian, right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Sir. Was there a word in the world sweeter to his ears than that one? And to hear it in a soft but slightly sinister Russian accent sent a little thrill of satisfaction through his entire body.

  “My mother’s family was Polish. Fled their home country during the war. Do you want to guess why?”

  “Better weather, sir?” she asked, a tremor in her voice that might have been a laugh in disguise.

  Daniel grinned at the back of her head. He took a step toward the bed, then another. He gathered a fistful of her long dark hair and held it firmly.

  “They were fleeing the Russian Army.” He brought his mouth to her ear. “But don’t worry. I won’t hold it against you.”

  “You can if you want to.”

  He almost laughed. Kingsley did know how to pick them, didn’t he?

  Slowly he ran his fingers up and down the column on her spine. Such smooth, soft skin. Unmarked, untouched… She hadn’t been beaten in a long time. Not a professional submissive then. An enthusiastic amateur, he hoped.

  “I usually don’t beat a woman on a first date.” He forced her head to the side and exposed her neck. Gently he bit at the pulse point beneath her ear.

  “I wouldn’t worry about that, sir. It’s not a date.”

  Daniel laughed softly in her ear.

  If he trusted himself enough, he’d cover her from neck to ankles in welts. But he hadn’t played with pain in a long time, and he worried he’d cross the line if he let himself go. Maybe soon, but not yet.

  Instead, Daniel assaulted her neck and sculpted shoulder with kisses. He traced a line with his fingers from her neck, over each full breast, and down her stomach. Cupping her gently between the legs, Daniel fondled her smooth bare labia, stoking the heat coming from inside her. He found her clitoris with his fingertip and kneaded it gently.

  Irina inhaled sharply, and he gave her ear a quick nibble before pulling away and leaving her panting.

  Daniel glanced around the room. He’d never played in here before, but that wouldn’t be a problem. He already knew where everything was. Next to the bed—king-size, of course, as everything in Kingsley’s townhouse was king-sized—he found a crystal bowl filled with an assortment of condoms. Under the bed, he found three large leather suitcases, color-coded. Silver for bondage. Black for sex toys. White for pain. He wanted the white case but pulled out the silver case instead. Maybe he wasn’t ready for the crops and floggers yet, but he’d been rappelling up and down mountainsides for months. Ropes and knots? That he could handle.

  He didn’t speak to Irina as he dug through the silver case. With her face away from him, she couldn’t see what he was doing, what he was choosing. Daniel bit back a smug grin—okay, so maybe he did like a little mindfuck after all.

  From the case, he pulled out a length of black silk rope, one set of ankle cuffs, and a two-foot spreader bar. He tossed the bar and the cuffs on the bed—he wouldn’t need those until later.

  “King said you like it thorough. What don’t you like?”

  “Time wasting. Sir.”

  Russian women, Daniel was learning, were their own breed.

  Without asking permission, he pushed Irina onto her stomach and wove the rope around both wrists behind her back. Tempting as it was to hog-tie her for her arrogance, he decided against it. He might strain her back too much. That hadn’t been a concern with Eleanor, who wasn’t just petite but had a rather accommodating body. Extremely accommodating.

  After tying up Irina, he stopped to look at her. Was there anything in the world more erotic than a woman who’d given herself up entirely into his hands? His power? Her trust? A potent combination.

  Once more, he ran his hands over her body, down her arms, through her long hair. He even stroked the soles of her feet, making her twitch and flinch. His cock had hardened almost painfully as he’d bound her. Now it pressed against the zipper of his jeans, aching to be released.

  He hoped his and Kingsley’s definition of thorough were the same.

  With two quick movements, he had Irina off the bed and onto her knees in front of him. He gripped the back of her neck with his left hand while his right hand opened his
pants. He let the tip of his cock lightly touch her waiting lips.

  He didn’t have to give her the order to take him into her mouth. Without hesitation, she wrapped her lips around him and sucked deep. His hand tightened on her neck hard enough he knew he risked leaving bruises. She didn’t seem to mind.

  With careful undulations of his hips, he thrust into her mouth. God, it felt like the first time he’d had real sex since Eleanor left him. During his vanilla encounters, his body had been on autopilot. Now the real Daniel was waking up, coming back to life again.

  Even as a dominant, he always considered himself a gentleman. He never inflicted pain without offering equal or greater pleasure to his submissive. His hand slid from Irina’s neck to her breasts, and he toyed with her nipples…gently at first and then with greater intensity as she began to moan with need. The moaning caused the back of her throat to vibrate. Daniel breathed in deep and forced himself not to come immediately.

  God, he’d missed this.

  He pulled out of her mouth. With practiced ease, he untied the knots and released Irina.

  “Feet on the floor, face the bed.” He snapped his fingers and pointed right at the spot where he wanted her.

  “Yes, sir.”

  She obeyed quickly but without undue haste—eager, not afraid. Daniel walked to the opposite side of the bed and crooked his finger at Irina, a silent command for her to lean forward and stretch her arms out toward him. He knotted the rope around her wrists, then tied the other end to the bed frame. She pulled hard, testing the strength of his restraints. Those knots of his had kept him alive two thousand meters above sea level. They’d undoubtedly hold one woman to a bed. And no chance either the bed frame would break or bend. Not any bed that belonged to Kingsley Edge. His beds would survive the Apocalypse.

  Pleased with her position, Daniel returned to Irina. He tapped the back of her knee, signaling her to bend her leg like a horse being shoed. Except he was buckling the ankle cuffs onto her legs. Then, with two snap hooks, he secured her ankles to the two-foot spreader bar. Once finished, he took a few steps back to admire his captive Russian. In her current posture, she could hide nothing of herself from him. He drank in the sight of her long naked back, long legs trapped in cuffs, and her beautiful damp pussy, slightly open, beckoning him.

  “Arch your back,” he ordered. Standing directly behind her, Daniel caressed Irina’s back, her bottom, hips, and thighs. He touched her gently, lightly, until she groaned with frustration.

  Then with the full force of every muscle in his arm, he slapped the back of her upper thigh.

  Irina gave an utterly shocked and satisfying yelp of pain. He glanced down and saw a bright red handprint rising on her skin.

  Daniel stretched across her back and pressed his mouth to her ear. “That was for the ‘better weather’ joke.”

  Irina didn’t answer. She’d still feel that hit tomorrow with every step she took.

  “Say you’re sorry, and I won’t do it again…today.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “Good girl.” Daniel stood and massaged the red and burning welt. “I aimed for the thigh on purpose. The skin on the ass is a little too thick. The thighs hurt more. Can you tell the difference?”

  He slapped her thigh again, right on the red spot, and reared back and spanked her ass, once, sharply, the sound echoing like a gunshot. Irina flinched and cried out both times. Daniel could have patted himself on the back. He might be out of practice, but he still had it.

  Daniel moved his hand to the apex of her thighs. Once more, he found her clitoris and kneaded it. He felt the heat of her against his hand, a heat that drew him in. He pushed a single finger inside her and let the wet warmth envelop him.

  “Kingsley said you weren’t in love with pain. As wet as you are, I might have to argue with him.”

  She breathed hard as he pushed a second finger into her pussy. “I was that wet before you hit me, sir.”

  “Were you? And why is that?”

  “Because—” she began and stopped for another breath as he pushed in a third finger. His cock pulsed as her muscles contracted around his hand. “Because…I want you to fuck me, sir.”

  Daniel smiled at her prone and helpless body. “You aren’t the first woman who’s ever said that to me. But since I’ve never heard it in a Russian accent before, I’m tempted to do just that.”

  “Please, sir,” she begged. He loved that note of desperation in her voice, that hunger. He’d missed kinky women so much.

  He reached into the bowl by the bed and pulled out a condom. Within seconds he had it on. Slowly he pushed into her wet heat, filling her one inch at a time.

  She groaned loudly and gripped the ropes that bound her as Daniel held onto her hips and began thrusting. He took slow, deep breaths and concentrated on the elegant lines of Irina’s long back, the way the sunlight turned her hair almost red. He focused on anything but the excruciating pleasure of being inside this beautiful submissive. Otherwise, he’d come before he really got to enjoy her.

  Irina’s tight vagina contracted around him as her body neared orgasm. It nearly killed him to pull out, but he did it.

  After all, Kingsley had said she liked it “thorough.”

  Daniel snapped open the black case which held the sex toys and pulled out a vibrator and one of several tubes of lube.

  “Do you have any problems with anal?” he asked.

  “Only that most men are terrible at it.”

  “I’m not most men.” He spread lube over himself and then into her—filling her with the cool, wet liquid until she was slick and open and ready for him.

  A soft moan escaped his lips as he carefully penetrated her ass. He didn’t thrust, however. Not yet. He took the vibrator off the bed, turned it on, and started to push it inside Irina.

  She gasped and buried her face into the bedspread. Daniel let her ragged breathing guide him as he continued to press it deeper in her.

  “Can you take both?” he asked, brushing her hair off her face. For all he loved sensual torture, he’d stop in a heartbeat if he was actually hurting her.

  “Yes.” She gasped the word. “Please.”

  At the “please,” he kissed the side of her face. No more did he force himself to hold back. He thrust now, hard and deep, riding her with long strokes. With every push, she gasped. He could feel the thrumming through the thin wall that separated him from the vibrator. His eyes nearly watered from the need to come. But he held back, dug his hands deeper into her skin, and kept pushing.

  “Sir?” was all Irina could say.

  “Come,” he ordered, and with a hoarse cry, Irina let go. Her entire body shuddered. She groaned something in Russian, and the one part of his brain that was still functioning reminded him to ask her later what she’d said, if she remembered.

  Daniel closed his eyes as his climax overtook him. He’d fought it off so long that when he came, it felt like the orgasm would never end.

  A grunt of discomfort from underneath him brought Daniel back to himself. Carefully he took the vibrator out of Irina, then pulled out. He left her where she was, spent, with her ankles still bound by the spreader bar while he disposed of the condom. Finally, he released her.

  With a tired smile, Irina stood and faced him, wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Daniel ran his hands from her wrists to her shoulders, pushed her onto her back, and straddled her thighs. He pulled off his shirt and threw it on the floor. He climbed onto Irina, pinning her to the mattress.

  After two hours of playing, Daniel finally gave up and crawled from the bed. He felt as tired as he had after scaling Aconcagua in Argentina two months ago. Just as tired, just as exuberant.

  “You don’t have to do that, you know,” Irina said as Daniel pulled his jeans back on and buttoned them.

  “What?”

  “Put on clothes. Clothes on is not a good look for you. Clothes off is better.”

  Irina lay
on her side, watching him with that same lascivious look she’d given him in Kingsley’s upstairs office. Daniel decided that was what he missed most about being around women in the BDSM scene. Vanilla women wanted flirting, seduction, the whole song and dance. He got so bored with the dishonesty. He needed a woman who simply asked for what she wanted—especially if what she wanted was him. Never had that been a problem with Maggie, and certainly not with Eleanor. She had whispered a few things in his ear that had made even him almost blush.

  “What’s her name?”

  Daniel tensed but didn’t answer at first. He found his shirt and tugged it over his head. “Who?” he asked.

  “The girl in your eyes.”

  Daniel sat on the edge of the bed. Irina propped herself up on a pillow, not bothering to pull a sheet over her bare breasts. Shamelessness was a superb quality in a woman.

  “I don’t think I could see if I had a girl in my eyes.”

  Irina raised her hand and ran her fingers through his hair, which desperately needed cutting. “What’s her name?”

  Nothing good would come of answering her question. But Irina had given herself to him and held nothing back. He owed her the same.

  “Eleanor.”

  Irina’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean his Eleanor, do you?”

  Daniel gave a low rueful laugh. His Eleanor. No name required. “You know her?”

  “Everyone knows the White Queen.”

  “The White Queen? Is that what you all call her behind her back?”

  Irina shrugged. “Or to her face. It makes her laugh. Everything makes her laugh. She wears a white collar, you know, just like his. And she wears white all the time. If you ask her why she’ll say it shows the blood better. She’s demonic.” Irina made it sound like a compliment.

  “She was an angel to me.”

  “Are you sure we’re talking about the same girl?” Irina asked, grinning.