"Then I guess you'll have to bid on all of them to be sure." Her smile turned wicked. "Unless you're very, very observant like you say."
"I am. And… I’ll accept that challenge of choosing only you."
"We'll see." She started to turn away, then paused. "One more thing."
"What's that?"
"If you do win me—if you figure it out and you place that bid—don't go easy. Don't hold back because you're worried about scaring me or pushing too hard." She met my eyes, and I saw steel behind the heat. "I'm here because I want someone who isn't afraid of what I want. Someone who'll give it to me exactly as rough as I need it. The person who wins me needs to embrace who they are to claim me properly."
Then she was gone, disappearing into the crowd as if she were never here, leaving me standing there with my heart racing and my mind spinning in wonder.
Black lace was all I had to go on. Well, and a voice that would haunt my dreams and a body I was already desperate to get my hands on. Hips that swayed as she walked, drawing my eyes to every step that she took.
I pulled out my phone and texted Gianna.
My darling sister
How many participants are there tonight?
12 total. 9 women, 3 men. Why?
Just curious.
Nine women. One of them was her. One of them was going to be mine by the end of the night. Her.
The coordinator's voice rang out across the ballroom, announcing that the auction would begin in fifteen minutes. The crowd started moving toward the seating area, excitement building in the air.
I took my place in the VIP section, positioned so I'd have a clear view of the stage.
And I waited. ready to hunt.
The first three participants weren't her. I knew it immediately. They were the wrong height, wrong build, wrong energy. They were beautiful, and they went for good money, but they weren't the woman in the gold mask who'd touched my face and told me not to hold back.
Number four walked out in red lace. Not her. Number five in black but was too old. Not her. Number six?—
I sat forward.
Black lace. The right height. Black hair, though styled differently now, pinned up with small gold jewelry that caught the light. She moved across the stage with confidence, her mask still in place, her body displayed in a corset that left very little to the imagination, that fucking sway of hers that drew my eyes to her long legs. A black lace thong… A whistle escaped between my lips. Hot damn she was beautiful.
But it was the way she held herself that confirmed it. Her posture I'd noticed before. The way she scanned the crowd like she was looking for someone specific.
Looking for me.
Our eyes met across the distance, and even with the masks, I knew she recognized me. I saw the small smile play on her lips.
"Participant number six," the auctioneer announced. "Thirty-eight years old, preference for dominant partners, and a very impressive list of interests including bondage, impact play, pain and pleasure, sensory deprivation, humiliation, and forced orgasms."
My hands tightened on the armrests. That was definitely her, but Thirty-eight where? She didn’t look a day over twenty-six.
"We'll start the bidding at twenty-five thousand dollars."
I waited. Let other people bid first. Watched the number climb—fifty, seventy-five, one hundred thousand. Then I raised my paddle.
"One hundred and fifty thousand," I said clearly.
The room went silent. The woman on stage, my mystery woman, stared directly at me. Her mouth was hanging open and her eyes wide. Was she shocked? Did she think that our fun was already over?
"One hundred and fifty thousand!" the auctioneer called out. "Do I hear one sixty?"
