Highest Bidder (Salacious Players Club, #5)

by Sara Cate

She looks like the kind of woman who could hold a good conversation—before we fuck like animals, naturally.

When the door closes, the apartment is bathed in silence. It’s deafening. There’s something weird about silence, as if it holds me hostage. It won’t let me move. Won’t let me put on music or the TV. And it certainly won’t let me sleep. Instead, it forces me to be alone with my thoughts. Cruel, cruel silence.

They gave me a place to truly be myself, without judgment or ridicule. I had almost forgotten how fulfilling a family like that could be.

“Daisy, I’m just trying to help you, okay? Let me help you.” Her lips part as she struggles to find her response. “I…don’t need your help.” “You don’t have to need it. Take it anyway.”

I roll my eyes at his insinuation that he somehow now controls my life.

The worst part is that I think I’m falling for it. And I’m sure my mother did too.

Too many reminders that he fucked her mom too

She has no idea that currently in my head, I’m licking my way into her perfect little cunt. And it’s going to stay that way—in my head.

Because who doesn’t want a gin martini while they’re getting publicly railed?

That’s when it all hits. Grief is a ruthless predator, attacking when I’m at my weakest. Cruel, impossible questions cycle through my mind. Why did my mom have to get cancer? Why did she have to die? Why do I have to be alone?

Emo me, emo

I mean, I masturbated to him an hour ago, so I think it’s safe to say that I’m not so opposed to the idea of him anymore.

I’m not sure if I love the idea of him cherishing me or if I’m terribly disappointed that Ronan Kade has no interest in corrupting me.

“Life can be very poetic, Daisy. But that doesn’t mean it will always be pretty.”

We act like friends, but friends don’t feel the overwhelming urge to protect the other, not like this. I want to take care of her. I want her to be mine in a way I haven’t felt in a very long time.

Either way, it kills me to see him hurting—knowing I’m the cause.

“I think that’s healing for me,” I continue. “To take care of someone. To make them feel good. To provide what they need. And to give me a purpose I’ve lost along the way.”

It’s going to hurt like hell when she breaks my heart, but fuck…she’s worth it.

She doesn’t take care of herself. She treats herself like she’s expendable, and it grates on my nerves more than I expected it to.

This is not a crush or an infatuation or an addiction. I care about this man more than I care about anyone else.

It’s clear he’s not used to letting other people spoil him. Ronan is so used to taking care of others that he’s uncomfortable letting others take care of him. It makes me want to do it that much more.

This bond is nothing like what I felt before—ever.

I don’t love her to get love in return. Just feeling it is enough.

I’ve fucked up. I am a fuckup.

My only response is the clenching of my jaw. “She’s doing pretty good, though. I don’t need to fuck that up for her.” “What, by giving her love and support? Oh yeah, better not do that,” Eden replies sarcastically.

“Your pregnancy test was positive.”

And that’s a wrap for me.