Billionaire Auction by Brynn Paulin

Chapter Eleven

Breaking from his light embrace, she ran ahead of him then skipped up the stairs into the latticed gazebo. Benches lined the edges, and when Kendrick joined her, he lifted one of the seats to reveal a storage area and withdrew a thick blanket. He spread it out on the wood-planked floor and put their basket on one side of it. Sitting with his legs in front of him, he reached for her and pulled her into his lap to straddle him.

“When you run like that, I get to see tantalizing glimpses of that ass I’m going redden later,” he growled, slipping his hands beneath her skirt to cup said ass.

With nothing covering her sex, her tender folds were pushed up against the solid ridge in his pants. She groaned at the sensation of it pressing into her. Her eyes closed, and her head dropped back as she rocked her hips.

“Not here, Moriah,” Kendrick warned as he kissed her neck.

“It feels…good,” she moaned, thinking perhaps she could get off on the sensations spiraling through her.

“Moriah. No,” he rasped. His hands tightened on her hips, keeping her still. “Not where anyone can see or hear what’s only mine.”

“There’s no one—”

“There’s Frank, and I don’t want to fucking fire him because he witnesses you getting off.”

She pressed harder into him, fighting his grip. “I’ll be quiet.”

“No,” he replied and swiftly lifted her off him and plopped her onto the blanket beside him. “You’re eating lunch, then I’m taking you inside and giving you the spanking you so sorely deserve. Then I’m going to fuck you hard—and maybe, I’ll let you come if you’re a good girl.”

“I’ll be good.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, obviously refuting her claim.

Her hands clasped in her lap, and she stared at her pale fingernails. She kind of hated it the polish on them. She liked bold colors. She’d left behind spankings and little girl things in her childhood—not that she’d actually been spanked after the age of ten. By that age, Jof was more into emotional discipline or more accurately, emotional manipulation and verbal abuse.

“I don’t want a spanking,” she whispered.

“Yes, you do.” Kendrick opened the basket as if they weren’t discussing anything more innocuous than the weather. He pulled out two plates—real china plates, not the paper or plastic one would expect—and started dishing up their meal. He handed her hers along with her utensils then poured them both glasses of sparkling water.

“No, really, I don’t,” she argued.

“Eat,” was all he said.

“You’re so bossy.” But she took a bite of the delicious pasta on her plate and barely suppressed a moan at the flavors. She took another, thinking perhaps it was the best she’d ever had.

He shrugged. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Well, at least, you can’t boss me around after tomorrow night.”

His fingers whitened around the fork he held, before he dropped it on his plate. Oops. He’d told her not to mention that. His plate clattered to the blanket. She protested as he took hers and set it beside his dish. Before she knew what was happening, he was up and she was over his shoulder. One of his arms locked her legs in place while the other crossed higher and held down her dress.

“Put me down,” she screeched as he marched down the steps and across the yard toward the small guesthouse.

“No fucking way.”

Frank was coming out of the house as Kendrick approached.

“Secure?” Kendrick asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He headed for the door.

“Frank, help me!” she yelled, smacking Kendrick’s back. The guard shook his head, smiling, and walked away toward the crumbling main house. “Frank!”

He ignored her, showing her exactly where his loyalty lay. In his wallet. Kendrick paid him; therefore, Kendrick could do whatever he wanted and Frank would look the other way.

She hit Kendrick’s back harder as he stormed inside. “Put me down, you bastard! Put me down!”

“As you wish.” He dropped her on a bed, and she pounced before she tried to scramble away. He was over her in an instant, caging her in place. She shoved against him, but he didn’t give her an inch. Instead, one of his arms came around her, pulling her tighter to him. Then he knelt up and dragged her along with him. Taking advantage of the movement, she twisted away, shoving her knee into his stomach in the process. He caught her around the waist as she dove away. She landed over his lap with an oomph!

“Let me up!” she screamed as he shoved up her skirt, baring her ass. His hand connected with one cheek, and Moriah shrieked in outrage, twisting and beating on his leg, the only part of him she could get to with him as she lay over his parted thighs, one of his arms pinned across her back. The more she struggled the more his palm rained down on her poor behind.

“I warned you, kitten,” he said calmly. “Though, maybe, I should call you hellcat. I have to tell you, baby, you’re turning me on. I might need to spank you often.”

“Let me go,” she whined. Heat and pain radiated across her lower half. Tears poured down her cheeks. “I hate you,” she whispered, feeling completely humiliated that he’d do this to her.

“No, you don’t. Just feel, and you’ll see you don’t hate it—or me—as much as you think.”

She shook her head, denying what she already felt. “Stop.”

But he didn’t. The thwacks continued in a steady rhythm. The fire licking at her pussy in a completely disturbing way. It took long moments before she realized she’d stopped protesting and was actually moaning, anticipating each spank of his hand on her needy behind. What the hell? How was that possible? She’d read about it, but never believed it.

“Kendrick,” she moaned, afraid of what was happening, what he was bringing out of her.

“You feel it?”

“Yes,” she choked. “Kendrick, I—”

“Just let it happen,” he coaxed, pausing momentarily.

She groaned in protest then his fingers stroked over her pussy and her eyes rolled back, the tight tension in her core ratcheting even higher. Her breasts were so achy, the nipples so tight, she could barely stand the rub against his pantleg. Each brush sent pleasured torture straight to her core.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he murmured. “I think a few more and you’ll be there.”

“Be where?” she exclaimed. “Kendrick, I need—”

She cried out as he spanked her again. The pleasure-pain exploded across her skin, followed by another then another, and Moriah lost touch with the moment, feeling herself flying as she plummeted over the edge of sanity. The climax was unlike anything she’d experienced last night or on her own.

When she regained herself, she was on her back, her legs bent around his hips. He’d shoved his pants to his thighs and surged hard into her in an unrelenting rhythm. He wrenched aside of the top of her dress and captured her nipple in his mouth, sucking with the same fervor as he fucked her pussy. It was wild and urgent, holding nothing back. Kendrick was claiming her, taking her, making it clear she was his.

“Don’t ever mention leaving me,” he growled, never halting his pumping. “Never. You’re mine. Mine, Moriah!”

“Yes,” she cried, arching beneath him, her sex clenching around his thick, driving shaft.

“Say it,” he demanded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” she screamed.

“That’s right. Mine. You’re mine. Now, come around my cock, kitten. Take all of my seed from me. Take it all in you, and show me you’re mine. Oh,” he groaned as her body immediately clamped down at his words. She couldn’t help it. His demands, his dirty talk pulled her right over to the dark side, and she’d do anything he wanted. She was helpless to it. “Yeah, that’s right,” he growled. Clench around me. Take it all from me. Milk my cock, Moriah. Show me who this pussy belongs to.”

She arched beneath him on a loud cry, her body exploding into another orgasm that rolled through her, ebbing then growing, bigger and bigger, stealing her breath then her sight. She heard Kendrick groan from deep in his soul, the sound vibrating into her.

She wondered what he meant…why he sounded like he wasn’t ever letting her go, but as she drifted away, she didn’t care about anything but being with him and being his. Maybe, it was pillow talk. Maybe, it was a lot more.

Later…she’d ask…later…

When her vision cleared, Kendrick was still over her, he was still lodged deep inside her body. He stared down into her eyes.

“You passed out.”

“Did I?” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

He nodded, looking smug. “Can’t say I’ve ever had that happen before.”

She didn’t want to think of anyone before or after her. She glanced away, the movement—or even just breathing, actually—emphasizing what he’d done to her body since dragging her into the house. In that, she had no complaints. She’d revel in the sensual ache as long as it lasted.

“Well,” she sniped. “It was probably from lack of sustenance. You’ve barely let me eat since I’ve been with you. I probably fainted from weakness.”

“Uh-huh,” he said dryly. “Tell me all about that story. My palm is itching for another round.”

“Oh God,” she gasped. Her body clenched at the thought, but she confessed, “I don’t think I could do another round.”

He smiled tenderly. “Actually, I don’t think you could either. I’m not so much of a sadist that I’d try. But…I’m not opposed to putting my mouthy girl in the corner.”

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “You…do that?”

“Never have before, but with you, I just might.”

“Uh…” The sound was mostly a whimper.

He chuckled. “First, let’s feed you.”

They both groaned as he pulled free. He righted his clothes, and she sat up, swinging her legs to the edge of the bed. “I should go—”

He cut her off with a shake of his head. “I like you smelling like me.” He leaned in and dragged his nose along her neck. “Feeling me still in you, feeling me filling you,” he rumbled. “Feeling owned by me.”

He pulled her to her feet beside him, and she felt every bit of what he’d said. Filled and completely owned by him.