The velvet curtain brushed against my bare thigh as I stood motionless in the dimly lit antechamber of the old Parisian hôtel particulier. My pulse hammered in my throat. The invitation had arrived three days earlier, heavy cream cardstock with gold embossing: “Mademoiselle E. – Private Salon, 23:00. Wear only what makes you feel expensive.” No signature. Only the faint scent of sandalwood and the memory of his last whispered promise.
I had chosen a sheer black lace bodysuit that clung like smoke, thigh-high stockings with delicate seams, and the diamond choker he once fastened around my neck in Monaco. Beneath it all, the small silver plug he had sent by courier warmed inside me with every nervous shift of weight. The auction room beyond the curtain hummed with low voices and the clink of crystal. I was lot number seven.
“Breathe,” I told myself, but the word dissolved when the heavy drapes parted and a gloved hand took mine. The usher led me onto the small circular stage. Warm light spilled over my skin. I felt every gaze like a caress. My nipples tightened instantly against the lace. The auctioneer’s voice rolled through the darkness: “Lot seven. Twenty-eight years old. Exceptionally responsive. Starting bid, fifty thousand.”
The numbers climbed. I kept my chin high, thighs pressed together, trying not to let the growing heat between them show. When the hammer finally fell at one hundred and eighty thousand euros, a shiver raced down my spine. Sold.
Strong fingers closed around my wrist the moment I stepped off the stage. His voice, low and velvet-rough, brushed my ear. “You wore it.”
I nearly melted at the sound. “Yes, Sir.”
He guided me through a private corridor that smelled of old wax and fresh roses, then into a suite lined with antique mirrors and deep sapphire velvet. The door clicked shut. Only then did he turn me to face him. Dark hair, sharp jaw, eyes the color of midnight. Lucien.
“On your knees, Elise.”
I sank instantly. The thick carpet cushioned my stockings. He loosened his bow tie with deliberate slowness, watching me. My mouth watered. When he finally freed himself, heavy and already hard, I leaned forward without being told. The first taste of him drew a helpless moan from my throat. He gathered my hair, guiding but not forcing, letting me worship until my lips glistened and my eyes watered.
Then he pulled me up, spun me, and bent me over the silk-covered chaise. Cool air kissed my exposed sex as he peeled the lace aside. His palm cracked across my ass once, twice. I gasped, arching. The plug shifted inside me, sending sparks through my core.
“Tell me who you belong to tonight,” he murmured, fingers tracing the diamond line of the choker.
“You. Only you.”
He removed the plug with agonizing care, replacing it moments later with the blunt heat of his cock. The stretch stole my breath. One hand gripped my hip; the other slid around to circle my swollen clit. He took me in long, possessive strokes that grew faster, deeper, until the only sounds were my broken cries and the wet slap of skin on skin. When I came, it crashed through me so violently my knees buckled. He held me up, fucking me through it, then followed with a low groan that vibrated against my back.
We didn’t stop. He carried me to the enormous bed, stripped the last scraps of lace from my body, and spent the next hours mapping every inch of me with tongue, teeth, and fingers. I lost count of how many times he made me shatter. By the time dawn painted the ceiling gold, I lay draped across his chest, thighs sticky, lips swollen, heart still racing.
His fingers traced lazy circles on my lower back. “I outbid three sheikhs and a tech billionaire for you,” he said, voice husky with satisfaction.
I lifted my head, smiling against his skin. “Then I hope you intend to get your money’s worth, Lucien.”
His answering laugh was dark promise. He rolled me beneath him again, already hard once more. “The night is young, ma belle. And I’m nowhere near finished with you.”
His voice
The moment the hammer fell, triumph surged through my veins hotter than the cognac I’d been nursing. One hundred and eighty thousand euros for a single night with Elise. Worth every cent. I had watched her from the shadowed box for weeks, learning her tells, her desires, the way her breath hitched when she was being observed. Tonight I finally claimed her.
She stood on that stage like living sin wrapped in black lace, the diamond choker I chose for her catching the light with every shallow breath. The silver plug I sent her was seated exactly where I wanted it; I could tell by the way she held herself. My cock throbbed at the knowledge.
When I closed my fingers around her wrist backstage, her pulse fluttered like a trapped bird. Perfect. I led her to the suite I had reserved months ago, the one with mirrors positioned to reflect every angle of debauchery. The door had barely shut before I had her on her knees. Her mouth was heaven—hot, eager, skilled. I let her take me deep, savoring the little sounds she made, until I couldn’t wait another second.
Bending her over the chaise, I drank in the sight of her: ass raised, lace pulled aside, the jeweled base of the plug winking between her cheeks. Two sharp slaps left rosy prints on her skin. She moaned beautifully. When I finally pulled the toy free and replaced it with my cock, her walls clenched around me like wet silk. I had to grit my teeth to keep from coming immediately.
I fucked her hard, one hand working her clit, the other wrapped around that diamond choker like a leash. Her orgasm hit like a storm. Feeling her shake and cry out beneath me tore the last thread of my control. I spilled deep inside her, marking her in the most primitive way.
But one taste was nowhere near enough. I carried her to the bed, stripped her completely, and spent hours devouring her. I licked her until she screamed, fucked her slow and deep until she begged, then took her again from behind while she watched us in the mirror. Every new position, every new gasp, every time she sobbed my name fed the hunger that had been growing since the first time I saw her.
By morning she lay limp and glowing across my chest, thoroughly used and utterly mine for the hours we had left. When she teased me about getting my money’s worth, I laughed and rolled her under me again. My cock slid back into her slick heat as if it belonged there.
“The auction is over,” I whispered against her lips, thrusting deep. “But you, Elise… you’re going to be my favorite acquisition for a very long time.”
Her answering moan and the way her nails dug into my shoulders told me everything I needed to know. This night was only the beginning.
