A foreign hand tugs at my bound wrists, and I silently protest as I am guided away from you. But your gaze follows me, and promise burns brightly in your eyes. You will own me.

I stumble toward the front of the room as someone in the distance announces that the bidding will begin. My back is to everyone until I am ordered to turn around, and I do so, shyly.

I scan the men assembled and take in their lustful stares, but it is you I search for, you I want. My breath catches in my throat and tiny bubbles of panic fire in my stomach. I don’t see you anywhere.

One man bids and then another, and still I don’t hear you. For several tense minutes, the calls are heard and the price is increased. Then a pause. Silence falls. I hear my keeper as if there is not another as he prepares to close the bidding.

My eyes close as disappointment tightens my chest.

And then I hear you. Your firm voice carries above the quiet murmurs of those gathered. You state an impossible sum, much higher than the bids before, and it is clear that you have no intention of letting go of your prize.

Joy explodes in my soul, for I realize now that I will belong to you. My skin comes alive, itchy, and I’m barely able to contain my excitement. I am reprimanded by my keeper, but it is you I will answer to and no other.

There is a flurry as the bidders processes your offer, but no one comes forward to top it. My keeper smiles, for he has fetched a handsome price for me this night.

He calls an end to the bidding, and you start forward. The crowd parts for you as you stroll to the front. My keeper pushes me to my knees and reminds me to show you proper respect. I need no reminder and go gracefully to my knees as I await your command.

“Look at me,” you say in a gentle tone, but one that brooks no argument.

I tilt my head upward as you stand over me, strong, powerful. Your hand caresses my cheek, and I close my eyes as I nuzzle into your palm. Your touch is magic. Warm and sensual, it begins a fire deep in my loins.

You pull your hand away, and your fingers go to your pants. You unbutton the fly and ease the zipper down. For a moment, your hand disappears as it dips inside. You pull your cock out of confinement. It bobs free in front of my face. You’re long and thick, rigid with arousal and your musky scent surrounds me.

You stroke once and then once again, up and down the length as you guide yourself closer to me. My mouth waters, and I eagerly part my lips, my need to taste you overwhelming.

One hand slides into my hair and firmly cups my head, holding me in place. Sharp tingles dance down my spine and spread chill bumps over my skin.

“Open for me,” you command.

I obey. There isn’t a single thought of disobedience in my mind. I want only to please you and to be pleasured by you. You hold your cock with one hand and slide deep into my mouth as you pull my head to you with your other hand.

Your taste explodes on my tongue. All male. So rugged and earthy. You are firm and yet soft in my mouth. The contrast fascinates me and makes me hunger for more.

I suck you in deeper and run my tongue over your length, but you withdraw and squeeze my jaw as a gentle reminder that you are in control, not me. I relax and give myself over to your authority. I allow you to set the pace and to use my mouth as you wish.

Deeper you thrust, sinking to the back of my throat and pausing. I swallow around you, and I feel the pleasure it gives you. That pleases me.

My body is no longer my own. It sings sharply to a tune that only you play. My breasts are swollen, my nipples painfully erect. When you reach down to pluck one stiff peak, it nearly brings my orgasm crashing around me.

I gasp for breath and for control, for I have not brought you to completion yet. My pussy burns as if someone holds a fire to it. Each nerve is so tightly held that any stimulation will be unbearable, I fear.

You fill me again and again, your cock sliding so elegantly across my tongue. Then you become more urgent, your thrusts more forceful. You are close. Both of your hands grip my head, tangled in my hair as you pull me to meet each forward movement.

Your heated whispers fall on my ears, warm like honey and just as sweet. And then you flood my mouth with your release. Your hands become more gentle as they cup and stroke my face. Tenderness is in your touch as you murmur that I have pleased you.

I lovingly coax every drop from your erection before you finally pull away.

My body screams for yours. Your pleasure is my own. You lean down and kiss me softly on top of the head, and then you help me to my feet. Your hands trail down my body and up again as you explore my softness.

You take a nipple between your fingers and roll experimentally. With just a look, you command my keeper, and he puts his hands around my shoulders to steady me as your hands drift lower.

My breath draws sharply in when your fingers delve between my legs to the wetness at my entrance. You rub across my clit, and I moan. My legs tremble and threaten to collapse, but my keeper holds me up for you.

“You will come for me,” you tell me.

Oh yes, I will come.

I try to breathe, but it’s like inhaling fire. The air scorches my lungs and catches in my chest.

With your other hand, you pluck at my nipples, first one, and then the other.

“Do not let her fall,” you caution my keeper, and his hands tighten at my shoulders.

You slide your fingers through my wetness, back and forth over my aching clit and then to my opening, where you tease unmercifully.

“Do you fantasize about having my cock buried inside you?” you ask in a silky tone.

“Yes,” I gasp. “I want it more than anything.”

You smile and increase the pressure of your fingers. “Soon. Soon you will have all of me. For now I want you to come with your keeper holding you for me, for it is the last time another man will ever touch you. You are mine now.”

Your words more than your touch send my orgasm racing through my groin. It is frightening and splendid in equal parts as I shatter. My keeper’s hands are firm around me as I buck and writhe. My knees threaten to buckle but you both hold me upright.

When the last waves of my release have broken, you command my keeper to release me. There is formality to your actions as you see to the change in ownership. I am not as of yet untied, but you take my arm and lead me away.

Outside the room, you gently untie my arms and then wrap a robe around me to shield my nudity from other eyes. Though you say nothing, I sense your possessiveness when it comes to me.

As we leave, you tell me once again that I am yours, and I am happy to hear it, for I am yours now, and glad to be so.

Damon sat back, stunned at how affected he was by the letter. Rarely had he seen anything so honest and raw. There was no hemming and hawing, no discomfort evident. Just a true and earnest accounting of one woman’s most intimate desires.

His gaze continued down the e-mail where the woman’s personal information was listed. His brow furrowed, and he leaned forward abruptly in his chair.

The name, address and birth date listed for the client was Serena James.

A smile curved Damon’s lips upward. So it had been a ruse. The client was her all along, but she had waited to reveal it when she wasn’t facing him.

Something potent surged in his veins. Excitement? Desire? Or was it something else altogether? Anticipation. It licked like greedy flames over dry wood.

Suddenly there was no question as to who he would find to fulfill Serena’s fantasy. Hell would freeze over before he’d hand her over to another man. If she wanted to be someone’s damn slave, then she would be his.

CHAPTER 4

Serena got out of her SUV and jogged toward the baseball field, aware that she was late. When she rounded the bleachers and scanned the mostly empty seats, she saw Julie look her way and wave. Faith turned as well and offered a smile in greeting as Serena headed up to where the women sat away from the handful of people sitting on the opposite side.

“Wasn’t sure you were going to make it,” Faith said when Serena plopped on the seat beside her.

“And miss our favorite pastime of ogling gorgeous men in shorts and sweaty shirts?” Serena asked in mock horror.

“Amen, sister,” Julie muttered as she stared over the field.

The men who worked with Faith at Malone and Sons Security played in a four-week-long mini-league, or what the guys referred to as old farts reliving the glory days. Mostly it was an excuse to horse around and drink lots of beer afterward.

“I never can figure out which one is my favorite,” Serena mused as she took in Connor Malone and Micah Hudson. “Your brother is pretty hot, Faith, but then so is Micah.”

“What’s wrong with Nathan?” Julie demanded.

Serena grinned. “Nothing other than you’ve already pissed on the guy and marked him yours.”

Faith choked on her laughter until Julie had to beat her on the back.

“When are you going to make your move on the man?” Serena asked.

“I don’t know,” Julie grumbled. “He’s . . . difficult.”