Chapter 2

2

Leah

I gasp, but try to hide it with a soft cough. Dmitri quickly passes my panties to the guy behind him. I try not to watch as the black fabric makes its way from hand to hand. Who requested a closer look at my underwear? I’m simultaneously aroused and embarrassed.

Betty announces a new price—fifteen thousand.

Dmitri stubbornly keeps up his bid card.

What an idiot. Where is he going to get fifteen thousand dollars? Does he have a fortune squirreled away somewhere? Heck, maybe he’ll hop up on the stage after me and sell himself to pay for it.

If I had fifteen grand, I’d buy a night with him.

The bids go higher and higher. I’m asked to turn around and face the back of the stage. I’m completely naked, but Betty was right—under the stage lights, I’m not cold at all.

Betty’s phone chimes. She reads it and then nods.

“Bend over, please,” Betty says to me.

My face heats. This is humiliating.

I bend at the waist and touch my toes, my dark brown ponytail hitting the floor. I close my eyes so I can’t see the crowd behind me. I really hope Dmitri is looking away right now. I wait for what feels like an eternity but is probably only thirty seconds.

“Good,” Betty says. “You may stand now and face the bidders.”

Blood rushes from my head as I straighten. Deep breath. I turn around again.

“Sixteen thousand,” Betty says.

Two bidders hold up cards. One is Dmitri. The other is a man I can’t see very well. He’s wearing a suit and tie. He has on glasses, and a subtle reflection from the lights hides his eyes. Is he handsome? Is he mean?

Is he going to win?

But Dmitri keeps going up and up with the bid. Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen thousand. Twenty freaking thousand dollars . I stare at him incredulously. Is he planning to sell his beloved ’66 Mustang? The one he and his dad restored together? It’s not worth this.

When Betty hits twenty-five thousand dollars, the other gentleman holds up his card.

“Fuck, Leah,” Dmitri mouths, putting down his bid card. “I’m sorry.”

It seems we’ve hit Dmitri’s limit. Which is good, because honestly, I don’t want him to sell his car for this. I’m doing the auction to get money, not create more debt.

The stranger texts rapidly on his phone. Betty’s phone chimes. She takes it from her pocket. Her eyes widen as she reads the message.

What could it possibly say? None of the other requests made her look this uncertain.

Betty comes over to me. She covers her mic and says, “You didn’t check the box for multiple partners on your intake form. He’s offering more if you’ll accept another partner. Is it a hard limit for you?”

“I…I guess not,” I say.

With a stern look, she says, “We need enthusiastic consent to this, love. It’s completely all right to say no. And a lukewarm ‘okay’ isn’t going to cut it.”

If I stop thinking about what I should want and what should be all right and think about what I really want, well…I could get on board with multiple partners. To be honest, I’m more enthusiastic about the money.

Okay, I’m most enthusiastic at the thought of Dmitri’s hands on me. Not that he would ever actually do anything, but it would be amazing if he did. It would also be wrong, because he’s my best friend’s brother. I’ve known him since I was a teenager.

But it would be glorious, I imagine. I’ve fantasized about his big, strong hands more than once.

Tonight isn’t about him—he’s out of the running. Still, I’m all-in on whatever is to come. Multiple partners or not.

“Yes,” I say. “Enthusiastically, yes.”

Betty nods and moves over to Dmitri for some crazy reason. Why is she consulting him? It’s my body we’re talking about. Plus, he isn’t my boyfriend.

Twenty-five grand. It hits me again. I’ll be walking home with over twelve thousand dollars.

Good god, I can only imagine Mick’s face. Dollar signs will flash in his eyes when he finds out how much I’ve earned with this arrangement.

Dmitri looks past Betty’s shoulder at me, his face grim. Then, he nods.

Betty straightens and faces the crowd. “Fifty thousand dollars. Any other competition out there?”

Wait, what? Fifty K?

Only one person holds up a bid card—the man with the glasses.

Betty says, “Going once, at fifty thousand dollars. Going twice…”

I hold my breath. This is absolutely crazy.

“Sold, at fifty thousand dollars.” Betty smiles at the assembled audience. “This girl has been won by Gage J.”

Fifty…thousand…dollars?

Betty turns to face me, a triumphant smile on her face.

“I thought it was twenty-five?” I whisper.

“He offered to double the price if you would agree to a second partner.”

Holy shit. Holy shit . Half to me, half to the club. I’m going to be twenty-five thousand dollars richer at the end of this arrangement.

In shock, I allow Betty to usher me backstage. We move down a very cramped hallway to a new room. The walls are covered in black-stained paneling like the rest of the club. Unlike the last room I was in, this one includes benches, a sex swing, a couple of leather chairs, and a dresser Dmitri once told me was filled with packaged sex toys, lube, condoms, and more.

I still don’t understand what’s happening, why Dmitri bid on me. Surely he doesn’t want me like that. He and I are going to have a long, long conversation tomorrow.

A robe lies on one of the benches. I grab it and tug it over my shoulders. There’s no strap to tie it closed, so I hold it tightly around me, suddenly cold.

“Okay, he’ll be in soon,” Betty says. “Do you have any questions?”

I shake my head. We went over the expectations several times before I signed the auction agreement. I wait here, the winner of the auction arrives. We fuck, or do whatever power exchange the winner has in mind. Maybe the winner will only want cuddles and conversation.

Cuddles and conversation for fifty grand? Ha.

Dmitri bursts into the room, his dark blond hair wild like he’s been running his hands through it in distress. “Leah, are you sure you’re okay with this?—”

Betty gives my hand a quick squeeze. “I think you’re in good hands.”

She steps out the hidden rear door, leaving me alone with Dmitri.

I face him, tears gathering in my eyes. All the confusion from being on the stage and seeing him bid on me again and again…it’s coming out in emotions I don’t know how to control.

“Why did you bid on me, Dmitri? Why did you do that?”

He opens his mouth to answer, but the door opens again.

This time the stranger steps inside. Now that stage lights aren’t blinding me, I can see him better. He’s still wearing the glasses. He has dark brown hair and a short brown beard—so short it’s almost stubble. His face is familiar, but I can’t place it. Surely a TV or film actor hasn’t come in and thrown an incredible amount of money away on this…

“Who are you?” I ask.

“You can call me Gage, unless we’re in a scene.” The collar that matches my belly chain is held loosely in his hand. Its pink crystalline beads glint in the light by the door. “Then, you will call me Sir .”

The sound of his voice makes me melt in my borrowed robe. Low, growly, and oh-so-stern. I want to tear off this robe and fan myself with it.

Mick doesn’t sound like this. He doesn’t have this man’s presence.

Shit, I should not be comparing my boyfriend to the guy I’m about to fuck. Mick was never super clear about the rules of our open relationship beyond allowing us to fuck other people. I’m pretty sure we aren’t supposed to play a comparison game, though.

The guy, Gage, doesn’t kick Dmitri out of the room. He wanted multiple partners…surely he didn’t mean…? Dmitri? No. No way.

That thrill in my stomach is dread, right? Because I really shouldn’t want Dmitri, not really. These kinds of thoughts about him are reserved for my most secret fantasies.

“Miss L, I want to call you baby girl, doll, and princess,” Gage says. “Do I have your permission? Can I say good girl when you’re behaving in a way that pleases me?”

“Yes, Sir.” I try not to clench my thighs together the way I really want to. Maybe I have a praise kink. Maybe I just want someone to give me sexy instructions and tell me I’m doing a good job—things I don’t get at home.

I’ve always been tempted by the thought of coming to a sex club and being used. I wanted to be ordered around, forced to submit. Instructed to give and receive pleasure. Disciplined if I’m not quick enough to behave.

But here I am. And Gage is in-fucking-charge.