The Auction (16 page)

“Very impressive,” James said, smiling at Carly. “Adam didn’t exaggerate your grace in handling erotic pain.”

Carly found herself beaming back at James, a sense of pride making her feel warm and happy. James looked at Adam and asked, “What else did you have in mind for this evening?”

“I was thinking we should give Carly a turn in the cock box. She’s quite skilled in pleasing a man with her mouth. I know she’d be honored to show you, James. Isn’t that right, slave girl?”

The warmth and happiness that had suffused Carly a moment before shriveled into a hard ball in her stomach as she stared at the wooden chest with the glory holes drilled into the sides. She hadn’t told Adam of her fear of small spaces. Even a crowded elevator was sometimes enough to send her into panic mode. How would she cope with being placed in that narrow coffin-like structure? What if she started screaming, or worse?

All three of them were looking at her expectantly, Amy and James smiling, Adam with his eyebrows raised, his head slightly cocked, as if looking to her for confirmation.

I’m proud of you.

Adam’s words played in her head as the three of them waited for her response. She couldn’t let him down. How hard could it be to lie in the box for a few minutes? She would have the distraction of the men’s cocks to suck and pleasure. Adam was right—she
was
good at that, and she knew it.

“Yes, Sir,” she said, pushing past the hoarseness that threatened in her voice.

James and Adam removed the thick padding from the top of the chest. The lid was closed by clasps along one side, which they released. When they lifted the lid, Carly could see that inside it was lined with a thick quilt and there was even a small pillow for her head. She would just pretend she was in a bed in the dark. That was all. She’d keep her eyes closed and use her hands and her mouth to pleasure her Masters. It would be easy.

No sweat.

She could do this.

She accepted Adam’s hand when he offered it, stepping gingerly into the narrow space. Swallowing hard over the lump that had risen suddenly in her throat, Carly lowered herself onto the soft quilt and lay back, forcing the bubbles of panic threatening to burst through her to stay down, compressed into the small ball of anxiety still twisting in her gut.

When the lid closed, she shut her eyes. The sound of the latches closing with metallic finality caused a rush of foul tasting bile to rise in her throat. She swallowed again, willing herself to be calm. She could hear the muffled sound of masculine voices, and a moment later she felt the brush of a cock head against her cheek.

She turned her face toward the phallus, recognizing Adam’s scent and girth as her lips closed over the shaft. There was a sound on the other side and she turned her head to find what must be James’ cock, longer and thinner than Adam’s, but just as hard. Tentatively she licked a circle around the head. He tasted clean and she took more of the shaft into her mouth, while maneuvering to reach Adam’s offered shaft with her hand.

That’s when she made her mistake.

She opened her eyes.

The box was black as pitch inside and all at once it felt as if the wooden walls were closing in on her. The twisting ball of anxiety she’d kept at bay in her gut hurtled through her body, turning the blood in her veins to ice and making her feel sick and lightheaded, as if she was going to pass out.

She tried to concentrate on what she was doing, but her mouth had gone dry, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth, her teeth chattering. Her heart was thundering in her chest and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Her body was slicked with sweat, a rank vinegar smell coming from under her arms.

Safeword. I have a safeword. Say the fucking safeword.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came. She opened and closed her hands, but of course no one could see what she was doing. Panic took over the last vestiges of conscious, rational thought, dragging Carly along in the wake of it. She began to thrash, barely aware of what she was doing, desperate to escape, sure she was about to die…

~*~

Adam and James met each other’s eye when they heard the scuffling sounds coming from the cock box. Something wasn’t right. Before either could react, Amy, who had been kneeling submissively nearby, leaped to her feet. “Open the box. Something’s wrong!”

James and Adam both pulled away from the chest. The latches were on James’ side, and he moved quickly, releasing them and throwing back the lid. Carly was curled inside, her eyes squeezed shut, her face pale as death, twitching and thrashing as if she were having an epileptic seizure.

Panic gripped Adam’s innards as he stared down at the girl. Amy pushed him aside and reached down, hauling Carly to a sitting position. “Help me get her out of there,” she barked, no trace of submission in her tone. “She’s having a panic attack. Why the hell did you let her do this?”

“I didn’t know!” Adam cried. Together he and James lifted the shaking girl from the cock box and set her on the sofa. Her face was pale, her skin clammy to the touch.

Amy sat beside her, placing a hand on Carly’s arm. “Carly, listen to me, sweetheart. It’s okay. You’re out of the box. You’re safe. It’s okay. You’re okay.” She stroked Carly’s arm. Her voice was calm and reassuring, and Adam offered a silent prayer of thanks that there was a doctor here dealing with this situation.

Jesus! A panic attack! How the hell was he supposed to have known Carly didn’t like confined spaces? Why hadn’t she told him? Why hadn’t it been in the hard limits section of the contract? Damn it, this wasn’t his fault.

Was it?

“Breathe,” Amy was saying. “Slow, deep breaths. We’ll do it together. In, one, two…” She inhaled. “And out, one, two. Yes, that’s it. One, two…nice and slow. You’re safe now, Carly. You’re doing good, baby. Breathe.”

Adam was intensely relieved to see Carly relaxing against the sofa back. Her shaking had subsided and the color had returned to her face. He glanced at James, who had pulled his jeans back on, and realized he himself was still naked, his cock flaccid. He grabbed his underwear and jeans, pulling them on.

Bending down, he held out Amy’s dress to her, but Amy waved it away. “Not now,” she mouthed. Aloud she said, “Adam, can you get Carly a glass of water, please?”

Glad to have something to do, Adam raced from the dungeon. He poured a glass of water in the bathroom, and grabbed his robe on the way out. When he returned to the dungeon, Carly was leaning forward on the sofa, her hands caught between her knees. There were tears on her face, but she seemed to be breathing normally, thank god, and her eyes were focused.

Adam handed her the glass of water, which she took, offering him a tremulous smile. Sitting on her other side, he draped his robe over her shoulders. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice catching. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s my fault,” she whispered. “I should have told you. I thought I could handle it.” Another tear slipped down her cheek.

“Carly, it’s okay,” Amy said in a firm but gentle tone, still in doctor mode. “Really it is. You had a panic attack. It can happen to anyone and it can come on suddenly. The fact you worked through it so quickly is an excellent sign. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get my bag from the car and give you a quick examination, just to make sure everything’s okay with you. And then you’ll rest and take it easy. All right?”

Carly rocked forward, hugging herself. “Oh, gosh. I’m okay, really. I’m embarrassed is all—”

“No,” Adam interrupted. “Let her, Carly.
Please
.”

Carly looked at Adam, her blue eyes wide, another tear slipping down her soft cheek.

A mistake
, he realized with sudden, stark clarity.
This is all a mistake. What the hell was I thinking? You can’t
buy
submission, for god’s sake. This is my fault. My fault. I have to make this right. I have to stop this now.

I have to let her go.

Chapter 12

There was no air in the tiny box. She could feel the pressure on all sides and knew it was a matter of minutes, maybe seconds, before the weight of the water crushed the box and it came pouring in. She might be able to hold her breath for a minute, maybe longer, and then, her lungs bursting, she would have no choice but to open her mouth, her silent screams drowned in a rush of saltwater…

“Carly! Carly, wake up. You’re dreaming. Wake up!”

Carly felt herself being pulled upward—the blackness turning to green and then gold as she burst into the light. Gasping, she shook her head, gulping in the fresh, pure air.

It took several more seconds to realize she wasn’t afloat in the ocean, but lying in a warm, safe bed. Adam loomed over her, his face a mask of concern. “You were talking in your sleep. Crying out. Are you okay?” He was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, backlit by the light streaming in from the hall.

Carly pushed the hair from her face and tried to sit up, but fell back against the pillows, dizziness assailing her. She shuddered, the nightmare still clinging to her like a spider’s sticky web. “It felt so real. I was in a box—”

“Shh, don’t relive it. Let it go.” Adam stroked the hair from her face. “This is all my fault. I’m so sorry, Carly. I didn’t know.”

Adam’s words burned away the clammy fear left by the nightmare, his touch as warm as the sun. Carly smiled. “It’s okay,” she whispered, putting her hand over his. If the terrifying moments spent in the cock box had broken through whatever roadblocks had been erected between them by the nature of their strange relationship, then they had been worth it.

“It wasn’t in the hard limits section of the contract,” Adam added, pulling his hand away, his words hitting her like a slap in the face.

“The contract,” Carly repeated stupidly. No. No, no, no. She wanted to scream, to grab him by the shirt and make him understand. Make him care. Instead she lay there, passive and tongue-tied.

Oblivious to the pain his words had caused her, Adam continued, “I’ve been up all night thinking about it, Carly. We can’t keep doing this. It’s not working out.”

“I’m sorry, Sir?” Carly forced herself to sit up, pushing through the thick ooze of molasses that seemed to be surrounding her brain from the sedative Amy had given her the night before. What was he saying? What wasn’t working out? Whatever it was, she would fix it. She had to fix it. Pushing down the tendrils of panic creeping along her innards, she said breathlessly, “I can do better, I promise—“

Adam reached for her hand. “No, no—it isn’t you, Carly. It’s the situation itself. It’s artificial—it’s a game. I thought it was what I wanted, but I realize now, what I was doing is wrong. I don’t think either of us had a real understanding of what we were getting into with the terms of the contract we’d negotiated. I just used you, like a toy, like an object. I didn’t think about the trust that’s necessary in this kind of a situation, or the potential danger. It has to end.”

I used you—like a toy, like an object.

Adam was sending her away. She was nothing more than a toy. A toy he was tired of playing with. She meant nothing to him. She never had.

Carly tried to harness the righteous indignation rising inside her, but it didn’t work. She felt as if she’d been sucker punched, all the air smacked from her lungs. Was that really all that mattered to Adam? The terms of some stupid contract? Had Carly been totally fooling herself that something more had been developing between them?

She pressed her lips together, blinking her eyes rapidly to keep back the tears that threatened to spill. What the hell did she expect? He’d
purchased
her at a slave auction, for god’s sake. What kind of a man did that, anyway? The kind who couldn’t or wouldn’t make an emotional connection. The kind she would be smart to steer well clear of.

But there was more at stake here. She’d bet everything she had on this gig—the money she stood to earn would help her get back on her feet. Everything she owned was crammed into her crappy old car, parked and waiting in the lot behind the auction house. Now this rat bastard was going to ruin it, just like that.

Carly tried to focus on the terms of the stupid contract—to speak a language Adam could understand. “You can’t send me away. Not before the contract ends. The money—”

“Don’t worry about the money,” Adam interrupted. “You’ll get everything due you, I promise. If necessary, I’ll put in the call myself.”

She tried again. “If you report dissatisfaction, the contract will be void. I won’t get a dime.”

Adam shrugged. “I won’t report a thing. I told you—you aren’t the problem. It’s me. I just—I can’t do this. You don’t have to finish the month. As soon as the sun’s up, I’ll have Jordan, my driver, take you wherever you want to go.”

“But—”

“No buts. I’ve made my decision.”

Desperate, she wouldn’t give up, despite her rising humiliation at having to beg. “Please, it hasn’t even been a week. I can—”

Adam put two fingers against her lips, silencing her. “Not bad money for less than a week’s work, huh?”

Closing her eyes, Carly turned her head away.

~*~

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, where can I take you, ma’am? I need an address.”

They were sitting in the circular driveway of the old brownstone, the engine idling, Carly in the backseat, Jordan waiting patiently for her reply. It was barely seven in the morning, but Carly hadn’t wanted to linger a second longer than she had to in Adam’s house. His words still burned inside her.

Not bad money for less than a week’s work.

If she’d had any lingering doubt of Adam’s real feelings, he’d made them crystal clear with that snide, heartless remark. What a fool she had been to think there had been something happening between them. What a clueless, naive fool. The innocent, sweet man gazing with such open love at his bride in the photo she had found had no doubt died a long time ago, leaving the cold, emotionally unavailable man that Adam Wise was today.