The Auction

Bishop

W illow is everything.

The owner of the Renegades.

Successful founder of Renegade Hearts.

The current bane of my existence.

But I wouldn't have it any other way.

Because, most importantly, she's mine.

All fucking mine.

I shift in my seat at the center of the room, the plug in my ass jostling between my cheeks. At least I've found a position where it no longer brushes up against the small bundle of nerves that sends a bolt of lightning straight through my cock.

Not that I'm not hard. I am. Painfully so. It's a wonder the entire room can't tell. What would they think if they knew it's taking everything in me not to come from the slightest brush of my dick against my slacks?

I run through the list of things that could possibly stifle my raging hard on.

Dead puppies.

Accidentally stepping on the foul line.

My grandmother's fruitcake.

Who am I kidding?

It's no use.

My thoughts drift back to the beach house. I was just finishing getting ready when Willow floated into the bathroom, wearing the dark gray formfitting dress I picked out for her. She looked magnificent. The way it accentuated every one of her delicious curves had me wanting to drop to my knees and worship her. Fuck the gala. We could have our own party for two right there against the bathroom wall.

I had to remind myself to stick to the plan: convince her to once again let me drive her crazy like I had when she wore my toy for nine torturous innings. Only when I twirled the tiny u-shaped vibrator around my finger, she turned the tables on me by pulling out a device of her own.

"Turnabout's fair play," she said, wearing a devilish smirk. And who am I to back down from a challenge?

Now I'm sitting at a table surrounded by my teammates and influential league donors in the middle of the open-air stadium concourse, regretting my decision. Karma is indeed a bitch. I don't know how she did it. This is impossible. Fighting off the constant pleasure as the toy shifts deep within me. Teetering on the edge. It's exhilarating and infuriating at the same time.

Willow's bright blue eyes connect with mine from the podium, where she gives her final speech of the evening. A sly grin paints her cherry red lips. "Thank you, everyone, for attending the Orange League Gala. Tonight has been a dream come true for Renegade Hearts. It's become a cause close to the Renegades Organization as we aim to support the families of the teammates we tragically lost. None of it would have been possible without your help."

The hum of golf claps echoes through the stadium concourse. I smile and look down at the trading card with Phoebe's picture on it. Willow set it aside for me, knowing there's no way I wouldn't want to be the one supporting my goddaughter. It's one of the many reasons I love her. She just knows me.

"Tonight, we've raised enough money to send all of the kids under the New York Renegade Hearts umbrella to summer camp, as well as hire additional staff and trauma therapists forour team."

More polite applause, along with a few hoots and hollers from my teammates, fill the space.

She waits for the applause to die down and continues to captivate her audience. "Renegade Hearts has been a dream of mine since I was a teenager, and to see it come together with my father's team has been nothing short of incredible.

"Now, onto our last event of the night—the thing I know you've all been waiting for—the player auction."

I focus on the excited cheers instead of the dread churning in my stomach.

The player auction is something that happens every year at this gala. It's supposed to be a fun way for the top players on all the teams in the Orange Spring Training League to interact with the big-time supporters of our sport. Sometimes you get bought by a divorcee who thinks they can woo you over dinner. Other times it's an over excited father who wants you to work with their kid while they regale you with stories of their high school baseball days. Last year, Jackson had the pleasure of helping a seventy-year-old woman wash her car.

Willow lifts her hands and the crowd settles. "I'm excited to announce I have been approached by many of the other team owners who have expressed interest in starting Heart chapters in their own cities. With that said, the proceeds from the auction will go directly back into funding new chapters for the teams affiliated with the Orange League."

Polite golf claps are replaced by a standing ovation and cheers from every corner of the concourse. There isn't a single person withholding their support.

Following suit, I stand, biting my lip to stifle the needy groan that bubbles in my throat. Heat creeps up the back of my neck as I stare at the woman I love, my heart beating with unsurmountable pride. She deserves every ounce of praise for the work she's done. And as soon as this dog and pony show is over, I plan to shower her with adoration of my own.

"Thank you," Willow says as they return to their seats."Now, without further delay, I kindly invite you to pull out your numbered paddles and bid to your heart's content on the players of the Orange League." She pauses for dramatic effect and picks up a paddle with the number sixty-eight on it—my number—shaking it for everyone to see. "I know I will be."

Willow's eyes connect with mine and she winks, eliciting a sea of whispers from the crowd as she steps down and heads toward our table.

I wince internally but manage to keep a smile on my face as more than a few people turn to look in my direction. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what they are whispering about. As of late, tragedy and scandal have been at the heart of the MLB. First, with the crash that took the lives of my teammates. Then Willow's plans leaked, along with the accusations of her father paying off umpires. The talk should be about how his name had been cleared and the true culprit caught and fired, along with the rest of the board members who knew about the scheme. But, of course, that's not what they've focused on.

All anyone can talk about is our relationship.

Owner and player.

While most are supportive, some are outraged and believe it will be the beginning of the end for the Renegades.

The way I see it—let them believe what they want. We'll enjoy every fucking minute of proving them wrong.

The whispers die down as the commissioner steps up and announces the first player up for the auction—the Renegades very own, Noah Smith.

He steps out onto the stage, nervous as shit, until Carson lets out a catcall from beside me and Smitty's shoulders visibly relax.

The commissioner chuckles and shakes his head. "The bidding will start at five hundred dollars."

I lean over and whisper to Carson, ignoring the way my cock twitches as the plug stretches my tight ring of muscles in new ways. "How the hell did you get Smitty to take your place in the auction?"

My co-captain's lips twist into a mischievous grin. "I told him I'd give him my top floor apartment at Renegade Row."

I raise a brow. "Why would you give that up?"

"Because he has no clue I'm going to move into yours when you move in with Willow."

My jaw drops. It's fucking genius.

It's at that moment Willow gracefully lowers herself in the seat next to me, and her citrus perfume wafts over me like a damn vise. "What's this about me getting a new roommate?"

Carson grins. "Bishop is moving in with you when we get back to New York."

"I suppose I'd enjoy waking up to him every morning."

Damn straight, she would.

I pin a glare at Carson and mumble, "I don't know if I should thank you or keep hating you."

"Don't hate the player, hate the game," Carson says, sipping his beer with a cheshire smile.

I'm only mad because I didn't come up with it first. Instead, I'm sitting here covertly trying to make sure my dick is tucked into the waistband of my boxer briefs, so I don't give the entire room a show when it's my turn to get up there.

Thankfully, I'm last up.

Willow laughs and rests her hand on my upper thigh.

"How you doing, daddy?" she whispers, and I stifle a groan.

My dick trembles as I lean over and press my lips to her temple before sliding back to her ear. "The second you're free to disappear from this party, I am going to throw you over my shoulder, take you up to your office, and fuck you till you see stars."

Willow swallows hard, her hand tightening on my thigh. "That good, huh?"

I nip her earlobe, and smile at the way she shivers. She's so damn responsive. "I didn't ever think I'd be up for ass play, but as with everything, you never cease to prove me wrong."

"Tell me about it," she whispers, and I happily oblige.

"I've never been so turned on. Every time I move, I'm reminded that I'm yours. My body is yours. And I can't wait to fill your tight little cunt as your toy penetrates the deepest parts of me."

"Fuck," she rasps.

I love it when she's reduced to profanity.

Willow shifts in her seat and I'd bet she's just as wet as I am hard. She keeps her eyes forward, watching as Smitty comes out of his shell on stage, spinning and flexing for everyone to see.

His bids top out at five thousand dollars. It sets the precedence for the players that follow, each of them trying to outdo the ones before them. And the room eats it up, opening their wallets for the cause.

Then it's my turn.

Willow gives me a sultry wink as the commissioner invites me up to the stage.

"Last but not least, we have the star catcher from our host team, Bishop Lawson."

The room erupts in applause and catcalls from my team's table as I step onto the raised platform. I shift my hips, trying to keep the damn toy from moving. Each step is like walking through a minefield—one wrong move and it'll rub against my prostate—then boom.

I really would rather not come onstage in front of all these people.

Commissioner Falco grins and leans into the mic. "As always, bidding will start at five hundred dollars."

Immediately paddles fly up into the air, but there's only one I'm watching for, and Willow doesn't dare move.

"Give us a spin," Carson hollers, and the crowd joins in, demanding a show.

I'm going to fucking kill him. I spin and strike a pose, my lower lip caught between my teeth, not because I'm trying to be sexy, but because it's the only thing stopping the guttural moan from bubbling out of me.

Two thousand.

Three thousand.

The number keeps rising—right along with my arousal—but Willow's paddle remains firmly on the table.

I swear if I have to spend an entire day with the little old lady at the front table who is looking at me like I'm a damn caramel candy she can suck on between her dentures, I'm going to turn in my cleats right now.

Thirty-five hundred.

Four thousand.

Five thousand.

I give another spin, trying to play along because, after all, this is for a good cause, but my balls are tightening with each movement, and I know I'm not going to last. I need to come. Hard. Preferably in the pussy of the woman I love.

"Six thousand going once." Falco pauses for dramatic effect. "Going twice."

Sweat forms on my brow. This is it. I'm doomed to be a geriatric plaything. Then, finally, my sexy little vixen savior picks up her paddle and raises it.

"Ten thousand dollars."

The room goes quiet, all eyes darting between the stage and Willow York. No one lifts their paddle. No one dares to outbid her.

They know who I belong to.

"Sold to Willow York for ten thousand dollars."

The entire room cheers as the commissioner announces that this concludes the formal portion of the evening and for everyone to enjoy themselves.

Oh, I plan to.

One quick jump and I'm off the stage, eyes locked on my prize. Willow has her head tipped back, laughing at something Carson said. She has no idea how serious I am about the promise I made her.

We have a date with her office.

Now.

My ass clenches around the plug, a war of pleasure and determination consuming me. In seconds I'm beside her, hand wrapping around hers, tugging her from her seat.

She gasps but comes willingly as I hold her against my chest and whisper in her ear.

"Time to show you what ten thousand dollars gets you, Kitten."

Willow pulls back, eyes wide as she takes in my feral gaze.

I don't give her the chance to protest before I'm tugging her toward the door.

"Bishop, where are we—"

"Get your money's worth, boss," Carson hollers, his booming voice behind us.

We make it into the quiet hallway that houses the top brass offices when Willow stumbles over her heels, trying to keep up.

"We can't just leave the party."

"We'll be back before it ends," I assure her.

In one fluid motion, I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder.

She pounds her fists on my ass, her shocked gasp giving way to a laugh that echoes against the concrete walls.

"Put me down, you overgrown barbarian."

"Not a chance." I smack her ass for good measure. The moan she makes in response like a zap of lightning straight to my dick. "You might have been the one to buy me, but I vowed to make you see stars tonight."

Swinging open the door to her office, I bypass the desk and head straight for the attached suite that opens to the field, so I can cross off another promise I made her long ago. Fucking her with a view of the field I play on.

Her lips collide with mine as I carefully set her down with her back on the railing that separates her office from the suite seats.

"I have dreamed of this since you put that damn plug in my ass," I murmur against her lips.

"Me too," she whispers,snaking her hands around my body until she can slide her deft fingers along the seam of my pants, pushing the plug deeper. "I don't know how you played nine innings, knowing I was writhing with a toy inside me. I've been wet all night thinking about it."

I intend to growl, but it comes out more of a desperate moan.

"I'm nothing if not committed. But right now, I need to come, which means you need to come first."

"Bishop, no. I can—"

I snatch her chin between my fingers and tip her head to meet my gaze. "You. Come. First. Willow."

I drop to my knees and push the skirt of her dress up. Another moan falls from my lips when I find she's bare for me.

Looking up, I raise a brow. "Seriously? No panties?"

"I was hopeful." She offers me an impish grin. "Though I will say I thought you'd discover this sooner."

"Next time I won't keep us both waiting," I rasp before lunging forward like a man starved.

Willow arches her back as I slide my tongue through her soaked slit, moaning as I get my first taste of her arousal.

She lifts a leg and rests it over my shoulder, giving me full access. Which I take full advantage of and slip two fingers inside her.

"God yes." She groans loud enough that if the music wasn't thumping through the open windows of the concourse fifty yards away, they'd no doubt hear her cries of pleasure. Something I'm sure she realizes by the way she clenches around my fingers.

My dick brushes the zipper of my pants, and my hips jerk forward. I'm not usually one to rush my way through foreplay, but I need to be inside her. Now.

Hooking my fingers, I find the spot I know drives her wild and focus quick flicks of my tongue on her clit.

"Fuck, Bishop—yes—I'm going to—"

I growl with her clit sucked between my lips and the vibrations send her over the edge. Her pussy clenches around my fingers, and I can't wait another second.

Still in the throes of her own release, I spin her around and press her over the railing and rise behind her. In record time, I've got my pants down and my cock notched at her entrance. She's still spasming when I piston forward and sheath myself in her.

"Fucking hell," I moan at the same time Willow sucks in a gasp. "You're so damn tight."

I freeze, trying not to come on the spot. She clenches around me, and the pressure of the plug in my ass soars to new heights. I'm a changed man. If this is even a fraction of what she feels when she's got a dildo in her ass as I fuck her, then I completely understand why it's her favorite. I'll never take my asshole for granted again. I plan to show it the love it deserves.

"Don't stop. Move," she pants. "I want to ride this pleasure while you come inside me."

Fuck, I love this woman—everything about her—but especially the filthy mouth she's picked up from being with me.

Following her command, I dig my hands into the flesh at her hips and slowly pull out, only to violently thrust into her like my life depends on it. Maybe it does.

Her moans and soft yeses spur me on. Willow milks my cock like the good girl she is until I have nothing left to give. It's not long before my entire body tightens and I'm the one seeing stars.

Spent, I slump forward and press a trail of kisses along her exposed spine.

"I love you," I whisper.

Her response is immediate. "I love you too."

Willow shifts from under me so I can lean against the railing, still unable to hold myself up on my quaking legs. She is gone for a moment but returns with a damp towel and falls to her knees. I jerk when she softly wipes my softening cock clean and carefully slides the plug from my ass. A sigh escapes me. After being on the edge for so long, I feel like I can finally relax.

Sliding down onto the concrete beside her, I take her cheeks between my hands, running my thumb over her lower lip. "I know I said I was going to wreck you, but I think you've ruined me for anyone else with this little stunt."

Willow's lips tip up. "Good, because I plan on keeping you and the bag of tricks you got me."

I lean back and mischievous brow. "Why do I get the feeling this won't be the last time I'm wound tighter than a damn spring?"

"Because you know this kitten has claws."

"And I wouldn't have you any other way."