Maya Banks - Sweet Persuasion

The doorbell rang just as she was reaching for her sandals. Her stomach lurched up into her throat as she thrust her feet into the shoes and nervously smoothed her hair with damp hands.

She reached for her overnight bag and headed for the door. When she swung it open, Sam stood there, his big body filling her doorway. He inclined his head.

“Miss James, are you ready?”

“Yes,” she managed to croak out.

He reached for her bag, and she relinquished it to him. She quickly locked up and followed him to the Bentley.

The drive seemed to take an eternity. With each passing mile, the tension coiled and swelled within her. By the time they pulled into the winding drive of a large estate, she felt lightheaded, and her pulse pounded loudly at her temples.

Sam parked the car, and her door opened immediately. She found herself staring into the face of a handsome man. His expression was enigmatic, and he simply held his hand out to her.

She took it with trembling fingers and allowed him to help her from the car. She started forward, but the man tugged her back with a sharp pull until she stood at his side.

“I am your keeper,” he said by way of introduction. “You will heed my instructions at all times.”

She blinked and nodded.

“Yes, Keeper,” he prompted.

“Yes, Keeper,” she stammered out.

He nodded in approval. “I’ll escort you in and prepare you for the auction.”

He took her elbow in a surprisingly gentle grip as he guided her toward the door. Silence greeted her when they stepped into the darkened foyer. Before she could look around and absorb her surroundings, her keeper hurried her down the hallway. He paused outside a door then opened it and directed her inside.

It was a small room but was lavishly decorated. The furnishings were expensive, simple, but extremely tasteful. It looked to be a sitting room, or even a changing room, as there was no bed. Just two armchairs, a full-length mirror and a vanity. To the side, there was an open doorway to a half bathroom.

As she did a small circle, taking in the room, her keeper’s hand touched her shoulder.

“It is time to prepare you,” he said.

His fingers went to her T-shirt, and she almost batted his hand away. He paused for a moment and leveled his gaze at her. He didn’t back down, but he also didn’t barge ahead. He exerted his authority even as he gave her time to adjust to his touch.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m a nervous wreck.”

He didn’t reply, though a half smile niggled at his lips.

“I can undress myself,” she offered, thinking to save him the awkward task.

He raised one brow and shook his head. “You are mine until another purchases you. It is my duty and my right to ready you as I see fit.”

Her eyes widened, and her stomach knotted and convulsed. Oh hell, this was it. She tried to relax as he slowly lifted her T-shirt over her head. He directed her to raise her arms and she did so almost mechanically.

It took every bit of her will not to fold her arms protectively over her lacy bra. Instead, she let her hands fall to her sides even as her fingers curled into tight balls.

“You will fetch a high price, indeed,” her keeper murmured.

His fingers trailed up her arms, raising goose bumps on her flesh. When they reached her shoulders, he hooked his fingertips under the straps of her bra and slowly tugged them downward.

She held her breath as the cups lowered until her breasts were free of confinement. She wanted to look at him, to get a better view of his appearance, but she was too afraid to raise her gaze so she kept her focus on his abdomen as his hands circled around to the clasp of her bra.

Deftly, he unhooked it, and he tugged until the bra fell to the floor at her feet.

Softly and sensuously, his palms grazed her waist as he moved around to the button of her jeans. Her nipples were puckered and hard, standing taut as though begging for attention, for his touch.

His fingers slid into the waistband of her pants as he worked the zipper down and parted the fly. And then the denim rasped along her hips and down her legs until they too fell in a heap around her ankles.

There she stood in front of this stranger, her keeper, in just her panties, a mere wisp of material, transparent and hiding nothing of her femininity. Was she crazy for the surge of excitement that cut razor sharp through her veins?

Her keeper stood back for a moment, his gaze raking up and down her body with what could only be classified as pure male appreciation. No longer did she seek to hide from him, for she felt alluring and seductive, as though she held the power and not he.

He was handsome, and appealing, but he wasn’t Damon. She nearly shook her head. Were it not for the fact that Damon had volunteered, this could well have been the man she’d give herself to for her fantasy.

Her keeper stepped forward and placed his hands at her slim hips. There was a moment’s pause and then he slipped the thin string of her underwear down. The lacy scrap fluttered down her legs, lightly brushing the insides of her knees.

He held his hand to her and she took it as she stepped free of her jeans and underwear. She was completely and utterly naked.

He moved to the vanity and rummaged in the drawer until he drew out a brush.

“Come here,” he ordered quietly.

She obeyed with no hesitation, and once she stood before him, he gestured for her to turn around.

He began brushing her hair, stroke after stroke, until the strands lay soft and wispy down her back. His fingers alternated with the brush as he worked both through her hair from scalp to the very ends.

Finally he was done, and disappointment shuddered through her body at the loss of his touch. She wondered if he’d brushed her hair to comfort her and calm her, but then he grasped her arm in his commanding grip and turned her around, all hints of gentleness gone.

He took one of her hands and pulled it behind her, and then he claimed the other one, pulling it as well until he held her wrists together at the small of her back. Rope scraped across her skin, abrading her flesh as he bound her hands.

When he was done, he left her for a moment and returned a mere second later. He carried a leather belt of sorts. It looked more like a tether or a leash, though the circlet was far too large for her neck. Her unspoken question was answered when he secured the belt around her waist.

There was a hook in the front that the lead attached to, and it was then she realized that he was going to guide her with the harness. His hand cupped her chin, and he forced her gaze upward to meet his.

“You will speak only to answer a direct question asked of you. You will respect my authority and that of the man who ultimately purchases you. There will be many men watching you, wanting to touch the flesh that they would bid on. I will be at your side to protect you, and you are to trust that I will not let anyone go too far.”

“Yes, Keeper,” she whispered.

“Good, then we are agreed.” He gave a slight tug on her leash as he started for the door. “It’s time,” he said, and she followed him with shaking knees.

Her keeper led her down a darkened hallway lit only by sconces on the wall. There was a decidedly medieval feel to the house, and she wondered if it was always so or if Damon had arranged a more atmospheric setting for her fantasy. Surely not. He wouldn’t have had time for such a venture, nor would he waste that kind of money, would he?

A slight tug at her leash made her redirect her attention to her keeper as he mounted the wooden stairs. As they neared the top, she could hear muted sounds in the distance. The murmur of male voices.

Her breathing shallowed, and her limbs went tingly.

At the top of the stairs there was another hallway with doors on either side. At the end there was another door, this one open with light spilling into the hallway.

Her keeper walked toward that distant doorway, and she followed behind, her fingers in tight balls behind her back.

The voices grew louder as they neared the room. Her keeper paused just inside and turned back to her. He didn’t speak. He just eyed her calmly, as though he was giving her a chance to prepare for her entrance.

She glanced down self-consciously at her nudity as embarrassment crept slowly over her body.

Her head came back up as her keeper tugged, none too gently, at her chin. His eyes bore into her, his expression stern.

“Do not look shamed. You will hold your head high.”

“Yes, Keeper.”

He nodded his satisfaction and then turned, and with a slight tug on her leash, pulled her into the room.

There were at least thirty men assembled, gathered in small clumps, others standing alone. They held drinks, sipping idly as they conversed, and waiters circled the room with trays of hors d’oeuvres.

It all looked ultra-civilized.

Her keeper conveyed her farther into the room, and it was then that the men took notice of Serena. They made no effort to disguise the blatant interest in their stares.

Serena and her keeper circled in and out of the throngs of men. Hands touched and caressed, sliding over her arms, her hips and her breasts. There were murmurs of appreciation as well as more overt compliments coupled with lascivious stares.

As promised, her keeper stood solidly by her side and allowed no more than the idle touch or gentle caress. When one of the men slid his hand between her legs, her keeper was quick to pry the man’s hand away with a tersely worded warning.