Chapter 12
I need her.
I can’t let any other man have her. She’s mine. I’ve claimed her in every way but one. No. That’s just physically. There’s one other thing I haven’t done — I haven’t claimed her as mine in the purest sense of the word — I haven’t told her. Haven’t told her that my chest seizes up whenever I see her. I haven’t told her that I watch her in the morning — how she looks when she is waking up with that smile on her face as she realizes I’m right there next to her.
I’d overstepped my bounds. Sure, I’d only hired the guy to use a crowbar on the backdoor of Excalibur. He never even set foot inside. But, every alarm on that state-of-the-art security system went defcon, and Cal was there, checking on his property with police in tow, in record time.
Last night was the first time her training had stopped. Grace had come home — no, she’d come back to my penthouse—and we ordered in Thai food and curled up on the couch. Her knees were on my lap and her head nestled onto my chest. I held her — I held her, and I cursed myself.
But I’m here — watching her from afar. Grace is beautiful. That dress — I bought it for her two days ago — but it’s other men she’s wearing it for. I’m already three drinks in, but it’s not helping. I’m as tight as a loaded spring, and I’m about to come uncoiled if anyone so much as lays a goddamned hand on her.
She’s had this demure countenance all evening, but it breaks every once in a while to offer one of the men a small smile or even a little laugh. She does it now with d’Este, and I want to punch the guy in the face. I take another swig, lifting my glass high and draining it with one swallow. Going to need another. Grace looks in my direction like she has so often this evening. I wish she wouldn’t. I feel like she’s checking in with me — like she’s asking permission — and it’s driving me fucking nuts. No. You can’t. You don’t have permission to fuck any of these guys.
That look in her eye — like she wants me to say it’s okay — has me wanting to storm right over there and go caveman on every motherfucker in this place. Just throw her over my shoulder and get the hell out of this room with my prize. I know she’d hate me for it. As much as I’d like to express myself in a display of mating-ritual-gone-bad, I can’t just march up and claim her like that. Maybe a couple hundred years ago, but not now. Grace has made her decision, and it’s my place to respect her wishes.
That asshole who made her laugh earlier leans in and whispers something into her ear. She smiles, and it actually looks genuine this time. Grace reaches out and touches d’Este’s arm and says something — I don’t care what the fuck she says — but she touches him.
Fuck this party. Fuck this auction. Fuck that guy. Everything inside of me cries out to go ape-shit, and I move.
Calvin steps in front of me, with a huge and oblivious grin on his face. He grabs both my arms. “We’re about to start. Will you be joining us? I saw you put in your deposit last night.”
“Fuck, yes. Get her ass off the floor and on that stage.”
He gives me this annoying as hell look — like he knows. “I figured you would be in on the bidding. Kind of a tease having her in your home and not being able to pop that cherry, isn’t it?”
I clench my fist, ready to wipe that damned smirk off Cal’s face. Nobody talks about my girl like that. The only dirty words Grace is ever going to hear is going to come from me. But, Cal spins and bounds onto an elevated platform.
He spreads his arms wide in greeting. “Welcome to Excalibur! I hope you are all having a wonderful time flirting with our newest member.”
A round of hearty cheers sounds off in the room, and I fix on Grace as she is led to the stage. I push my way to the front row — past all the guys who don’t have a chance — because she’s mine.
“Shall we get right down to the feature of the night?” Calvin asks. He’s greeted with more cheers and raised glasses. “I’m glad to see everyone is eager. Then, let the bidding begin. Shall we start the evening at six hundred thousand dollars?”
Several voices ring out to claim the first bid, but this is one situation in which I do not give a shit about foreplay. I know what Calvin wants for her. “One million.”
Hoots and appreciative laughter fills the room in response. Calvin looks at me with that damned assuming smirk. “One million to Mister Ashford. Can I get one point one? One million, one hundred thousand?”
“Here.” Reynolds stakes his claim.
“One million, two,” in a thick accent from d’Este off to the left.
“One million, three?” Calvin asks.
I step forward, placing myself apart from the crowd. “Two million.”
More hoots and laughter. Grace is twisting the fabric of that dress I bought her at the thighs, bunching it between her fingers and pulling. Her eyes are darting around the room from mine to the men making comments on money well spent. D’Este, the one who made her laugh — the one she touched — steps forward as well. We appraise one another, and I can tell he’s loaded, and not just the new money kind of loaded. The cut of the suit, the brand of the watch, that confidence that says I can match you.
“Two million, one.” He addresses me as though I am the challenge — and not as though she is the prize.
Anger flares inside my chest, and I ball my hands in a fist once more.
Grace’s eyes are wide, and Calvin is getting excited. He knows he has at least two fat fish on the line. “Can I get two million, two?”
Yet another guy, a big Russian looking dude — probably Southall — steps forward and claims the number.
“Three million.” I don’t fuck around.
The big bearded guy raises his hands, already bowing out of the competition, but d’Este presses his tongue against the back of his top teeth. He smiles at me. “Three million, one.”
A guy behind him slaps my nemesis on the back, congratulating him on raising the bid. The guys are loving the show. So is Calvin. He claps his hands in one sharp report. “Can I get three million, two?” He looks over the crowd, but there are no takers.
I look at Grace. She’s begging me with those eyes. “Four million.”
Calvin’s damned smile can’t get any larger, and neither can Grace’s eyes. She raises her hand over her mouth as Calvin raises both hands over his head, directing his attention to that fucker d’Este. “Four million, one?”
The guy nods his head.
I’m about ready to march right over there and rip that damn head off his neck. “Five million. I can do this all night, you little shit.”
The guy looks amused. He crosses his arms over his chest, challenge accepted, but I can tell there’s an underlying sense of discomfort. “Five million, o—”
“Six million. Go ahead, raise me, or should I just go seven million now?”
He raises both hands in surrender. “She’s all yours. Enjoy.”
Grace looks over at me, complete shock on her face. Pride swells through me. She’s mine. Finally.
Calvin leads the crowd in a round of applause, asking, “And when would you like to schedule your escorting service with the fine lady?”
I can’t wait. “Now.”
“Now?”
It’s one goddamned word. How hard is it to understand? “Yes. Now.”
That smirk on his face falters. “That’s highly irregular, Mister Ashford. Perhaps we can go into my office, and we can set up a date for tomorrow evening? I’m not sure the lady would approve—”
I’m not waiting until tomorrow evening. “No. Grace. I want you tonight. Do you approve?”
The hand which has been covering her mouth drops to her side, revealing the most genuine smile I have seen in my life. “I approve. Yes. I approve.”
Calvin, trying to keep some semblance of control over the situation, steps in and asks, “Do you have a reservation at a fine dining establishment? I would be happy to have Excalibur’s limousine provide the service tonight.”
I don’t look at him. I have eyes only for her. “I already have reservations, yes, but I don’t need transportation.”
Two powerful strides, and I have Grace’s hand in mine. Her eyes are watering, and she squeezes down on my fingers tightly. I pull her off the elevated platform, and we both turn our backs on the assembly. I need to get her out of this place as soon as possible.
“Where are your reservations?” Calvin calls after us. Perhaps I can—”
I call back without turning, “I have a room upstairs. I’ll order in Chinese. Or do you want Thai again, Grace?”
It comes out as a whisper. “I don’t care what we eat. Just get me out of here.”
I turn the corner into the hall and press the elevator call button over and over again. That room full of men needs to disappear, and I need to have Grace all to myself.
She intertwines her fingers more closely with mine and presses into my side, her other hand winding around my bicep and her mouth coming near my ear. “I’m glad it was you. I wanted it to be you. I wanted it all along.”
I can hear the chamber beyond swishing into place, and the door dings and opens. I pull her inside with me and jam my thumb into the button for the twenty-seventh floor. Without hesitation, I pin her against the elevator wall, no space between her body and mine.
My lips crush to hers, and Grace’s moan is immediate. Her thighs part, and my knee surges between. Her hands are in my hair, around my neck, gripping onto my shoulders. I need her touch. I need her body underneath mine. I need her like I need the breath in my lungs. I dive in, opening her mouth and claiming her. She needs to know she’s mine. She needs to feel it.
I’m hard already, and I lean my groin into her, letting her feel what she’s doing to me. She grabs for me — pulling my ass into her and rotating her hips to grind my hard cock against her pussy. She’s whimpering and making those noises that have me wanting to tear that dress off her right here and now.
The elevator dings once more, and the doors slide open. It takes everything inside of me to tear myself from her, but I take her hand and pull her into the hall. I have a stiff erection pushing at my trousers, but I don’t give a damn who sees. My girl makes me hard. I don’t care who knows.
There’s only two rooms on this entire floor — and I turn to our door, flashing my key card in front of it. I swing the door open, displaying an extravagant, sprawling room with fresh flowers and chocolates and candles burning. The whole package. I’d almost forgotten I’d ordered the honeymooners treatment. It does one thing, though, it reminds me to slow the fuck down and treat my girl like the virgin she is.
My breathing is coming heavy, but I manage to get out a gruff, “Wine?”
Her eyes are on me, but her fingers are working at her dress, pulling it up her legs. “No.”
“Good.” I run through my brain as quickly as I can, thinking what bases I needed to round first.
She keeps raising that damn dress, exposing her legs, getting it over her knees and her thighs. “I’m not thirsty. I’m hungry.”
Fuck the bases. I dip low and grab onto her ass, lifting and setting her on the counter. I pick right up where we left off in the elevator. I dive into the kiss, claiming her as strongly as possible. Having bought this dress, I know exactly where the zipper is. It’s down in a second, and I have the material off her shoulders in no time. I peel it down further and dip my head to take in her breasts.
My lips close around her sweet nipple, and I suck, kneading her soft tissue. Grace’s fingers are scratching through my hair; she holds my head in place and moans for me. Her dress is pulled all the way up, and she splits for me, my clothed cock rubbing against her panties. I’m already hardened steel — something I have become all too familiar with around my girl.
I can’t get her dress off quickly enough. I pull it up and over her head then step back and rip at my own shirt. Buttons go flying, fabric tears, and I kick out of my pants as I watch my sweet vixen rock her ass cheeks on the counter until she works her panties down her thighs and around her ankles. God, I need that tight pussy now.
She stands, steps out of her panties, and then leans back against the counter with a finger running down her belly and toward her cunt. I grab her hand away — that pussy is mine — and I pull her from the counter, propelling her toward the bedroom. I crack her on the naked ass as she passes in front of me. “You better run.”
This sly grin comes over her, and a childish amusement fills her features. She turns and flies through the expansive living space, giggling as she runs. I pursue, quickly overtaking her, but Grace jumps onto the mattress before I can snatch her. She turns to her back, the laughter still on her lips, her legs spread for me. I halt, taking in this moment. The woman I want laid out before me — finally mine.
Have I ever seen it? That look on her face. Not an I-want-to-fuck-you look. Not even an I’m-so-horny look. She’s excited for me. For me. Not my cock or my money. Me.
I’m painfully erect. I need to bury myself inside her and lose myself.