Marin narrows her brows as though she realizes the conversation is going nowhere, which was my intention. I use the opportunity to ask another question. “Also, I overheard something about an auction when you two were talking. What was that about?”
Marin shrugs and turns away, but the drunk woman in western garb that’s sat at the bar leans in. “The virgin auction. I heard her talking. She wants to be a star.”
My blood boils and my chest tightens. “I’m sorry?”
“I heard the girl with the pretzels and the pretty blonde hair,” the woman slurs. “She said she’s getting cash for the virgin auction. She’s going to be a star.”
I snap my gaze back toward Marin, who’s motioning something toward the drunk. “What the hell is going on?”
“I really don’t know.”
“You know something, ‘cause you’re waving your arms around like you know something.” The scent of charred oak drifts between us as I wait very impatiently for her to speak.
“I think maybe it’s a misunderstanding. I don’t even know Ivy. I just met her.”
“But you had a conversation with her. Did she say anything about a virgin auction?”
There’s a pause, and I know without another word that everything I’m hearing is true. It’s true and I’m sure now that’s where she’s going tonight.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
A red haze washes over my vision as I storm out of the bar and down the street toward her apartment above the pizza shop. I swear to God, this girl has lost her mind.
A virgin auction?Why the hell would she sell her soft, sweet, innocent little body to some cash paying asshole who’s going to treat her like a fucking tool?
I’m not thinking straight. I should’ve taken time to cool off. Then again, what if she’s already with the piece of shit? What if that’s why she rushed out of the bar? What if he’s already inside, touching her, kissing her, stealing her purity?
I swing open the street level door and jog up the stairs two at a time until I’m face to face with her apartment door. It’s the only one up here, so there’s no number tacked onto the wooden entrance. There’s only a nameplate that she jokingly had inscribed with the phrase‘Basil Lover.’
It does smell like basil up here. It’s pleasant, though I’m not sure I could handle the sharp scent of wing sauce that comes with it.
I tap against the door twice, but no one answers.
Jesus Christ! I should’ve followed her!
My chest constricts. What if she didn’t go home? What if this asshole who bought her online grabbed her off the street? What if she met up with him somewhere else? What if she’s locked up in a fucking basement somewhere on her knees for some other man?
I dig in my pocket for my keys. I don’t make it a habit of letting myself into her apartment on a whim, but these are extenuating times. Ineedto know she’s safe.
Turning the key upside down, I slide it into the lock and turn the knob, ready to fight for her safety. Instead, I’m met with a high-pitched shriek.
“What the hell, Ryker!” Ivy covers her bare breasts as I step into the room.
Fuck.
I stare a beat too long, taking in her smooth skin, her light blonde hair falling over her shoulders, her big, full tits, the soft curves of her hips, the crease of her pussy through her pink cotton panties.
Damn, she looks good.Really fucking good.
For a second, I let my mind go to dark, evil places. Places where I tug those panties down and lick her soft pink seam like a starving man. Places where I bend her over and make her mine. Places where the only man she ever touches again is me.
Good fucking God, I need to get a grip.
She’s twenty-two years old! Twenty fucking two!
I drag in a deep breath as I turn away, though I can still see her reflection in the hallway mirror.
Someone upstairs is testing me today!
