Highest Bidder (Salacious Players Club, #5)

by Sara Cate

“What’s your favorite book?” The question catches Daisy off guard. Her head turns up and she stares at me with a furrowed brow and a slightly turned-down mouth. “Just one?” “Yes.” The expression of contemptuous disapproval doesn’t leave her face. “You can’t possibly expect me to answer that,” she replies with a bite in her tone.

“Well, I think asking someone to pick just one is a little rude. I could tell you my childhood favorite. Or my comfort book. Or my favorite contemporary or my favorite classic. My favorite poetry book or my favorite fiction.”

The club is quiet for a Friday. Which is ironic because it’s spring and I always assumed people were hornier and got it on more in the springtime. Or maybe I’m just remembering that scene in Bambi, where all the boy animals got horny for the girl animals in spring. And…I just compared Bambi to a sex club. That’s just how bored I am.

Of course, one goes to a sex club for only one reason, so I doubt he’d want to waste his chances of getting laid by chatting with me.

“It means I like to be in control, but I like to bring my partner pleasure. I like being able to control when they come, how they come, and how often they come.”

“Stop pouting because I told you not to call me that,” he responds. “What?” I ask, feeling obstinate. “Daddy? Why not? Because you like it too much?” With a strong hand on my hip, he grinds my body against his legs, and when I feel the hard bulge in his pants, I let out a gasp. “Yes, Daisy, I do. I like it far too much.”

Call me a sick fuck, but I want to be her daddy. I’d teach her every fucking thing she wants to know. I’d take care of her and protect her and make her feel so goddamn good.

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

“I don’t want to leave yet, Ronan,” I say in a plea. A large hand touches the small of my back, and the rebellious feeling starts to fade. “We’re not leaving. I just had to get you away from that smooth talker, Matis. He’d have you on that table, devouring you like a meal in minutes, if I hadn’t stepped in.” My brow furrows in confusion as he pulls me farther into the club. “Wow,” I reply sarcastically, “thanks for saving me from that.”

“In short, yes. But…sometimes it’s not always about what they like. It helps them to understand themselves better…or to heal from trauma, to build their confidence, to strengthen the communication with their partner. There are a lot of very positive reasons why people like it.”

“Most Doms take their own pleasure from their subs, and that’s fine. Their subs enjoy it. That’s what their subs need. But the control and power I feel when I can make a person come, not just once, but over and over and over, until it’s like I control their body more than they do…is intoxicating.”

“You’re suffering, baby girl. Do you want Daddy to make you feel better?”

A desperate sounding yelp escapes her lips right when I know she’s there. “That’s my girl,” I murmur against her ear. “Come on Daddy’s hand.”

After he passes me a glass of chilled white wine, we tap our glasses together in a silent toast, then fall into a delicate silence, the sound of people chattering around us like a soothing white noise. The tower looms in the darkening sky, and I suddenly feel a wave of unexpected emotion rolling over me.

Yanking her back toward me, I line up my cock and notice the way she starts to squirm and writhe. Easing my hand down her spine, I hold her still as I slide my way in, savoring the sight of her body taking every inch of my cock.

“Nothing turns me on more than the thought of having complete control over your body—to play with, to test, to…fuck.”

“We’re doing twenty, and you will count each one. Is that clear?” “Yes, Daddy,” she murmurs. “Nice and loud,” I say, just before raising my right hand and letting it land with a smack against her ass. She lets out a squeak, but mostly bites back any other response. “One,” she announces. Without giving her a break, I do it again. And again. And again. Each time hearing her count through gritted teeth and a low whine.

“You know why I’m doing this, don’t you, Daisy?” “Because I didn’t eat today,” she says in a high-pitched whine. “Because you scared me, baby. You scared the fuck out of me. Now I want to hear you scream and cry and thrash, because at least then, I’ll know you’re alive and well. Scream for me, Daisy.” She shivers under my hands before whispering, “Yes, Daddy.”

RULE #25: AGE REALLY IS JUST A NUMBER

I’ve never been in a relationship like this, one that feels so comfortable. Yes, Ronan acts like my daddy from time to time, but for all of the moments when he doesn’t, he treats me as his equal. He doesn’t laugh at me or talk down to me or treat me like I can’t do things. Our connection is refreshingly balanced.

I wish he’d push me down. I want him to choke me on his cock.

“Is this really me? Black and sexy,” I reply with a laugh. “This is how I see you.” Then he spins me, so I’m facing the mirror, with him standing behind me. “I might treat you like my baby girl, but this is how you look to me, Daisy. I don’t want a girl who bends easily. I want to know I brought a woman to her knees for me. And every time you call me Daddy, that’s how I feel.”

“This is just a stimulant. It’s going to feel cold.” I jump when his fingers skim through my folds, rubbing something cool over my clit. Immediately, the skin between my legs pulses, and I’m hyperaware of even the air touching my most sensitive spot. “Uh…” I gasp, starting to squirm. “Does that feel good, baby girl?” “Yes,” I whisper.

“Now, climb onto your daddy’s lap.” I crawl over to Ronan, climbing onto his lap, much like I was the day he spanked me in the bedroom. Just taking the same position makes my stomach flutter with excitement. He strokes my hair with one hand, holding my arms in the other. “We’ll start with twelve. Your daddy will count.”

Is there something wrong with me for loving this so much? For acknowledging that it hurts but enjoying it for that exact reason. With each harsh swing of the paddle, it feels as if I shed a layer, freeing a part of myself I’ve been missing. And it accomplishes so many things at once.

it’s also bringing me to life. Forcing a stronger, more confident and independent person out of me that I always thought I was meant to be. It replaces the pain of grief and loss with a physical pain that manifests itself into strength. I can’t face the overwhelming anguish of living without my mother, living alone, but I can face this. I can take this.

Closing my eyes, I hit her again, this time a little lighter than before. But her scream is louder. “Two!” she belts. My skin is growing hot and my chest is starting to ache. I just want to swallow her up in my arms, tell her how much I love her, and take all her pain away. Why can’t she need that? Why does she need this pain so badly?

With each of us on either side of Daisy, we make her drink nearly half the pitcher, before turning her over and covering her back with a soothing balm to help with the soreness. “This is his favorite part,” Eden says, and I know she’s teasing me. But she’s right. Because every moment that I spend coddling and nurturing the girl I love, I’m thinking about how much I hated bringing her pain. Even if she loved it. Even if she came twice. Even if she needs it. It pains me to think I can’t give my girl everything she needs.

Ironically, it turns out that that’s sort of what makes life poetic in the first place. It’s not an Instagram filter or a Pinterest board. It’s gross and gritty and beautiful and stunning all at the same time.

“It’s been two months, Ronan. She’s proving to you right now that she can take care of herself. That’s what you wanted, right?” Forcing myself to swallow, I nod. “Yeah. That is exactly what I wanted.” Eden lets out a long huff. “Ugh, don’t tell me you’re going to try and give me that she’s better off without me bullshit.” 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.

The bids are growing higher and higher, even without the announcer’s encouragement. “One million dollars!” Suddenly the crowd goes quiet and all the eyes in the room shift to stare in shock at me, my hand held proudly in the air. I’m looking at him with a buzz of excitement under my skin as his smile grows.

When I feel her body shudder like she’s crying, I pull her away from me to stare down at her face. “Baby girl, what’s wrong?” “I missed you,” she sobs, her fingers clutching my suit jacket tightly in her fists. I kiss the top of her head and hold her closer. “I missed you so much.”

“I’m sorry if I was too needy and I’m sorry for not telling you about my mother. I’ll do whatever you want to make it up to you.” She whimpers against my chest. “I’ve done everything you told me to, and I’m doing so much better. I go to counseling and I pay my rent on time. I’m taking care of myself and I don’t need you anymore, Ronan. But I want you more than anything in this world.” I tilt her face up to mine, brushing her tears away as I smile down at her. “Hush, baby girl,” I whisper, kissing both of her cheeks to quiet her crying. “I’m not letting you go. Not for a second.”

“What is it?” Daisy asks. When she pulls our clasped hands into her lap, he glances at her. “Your pregnancy test was positive.” The blood drains from my face as his words penetrate my ears, and at first, they don’t make any sense. He’s confused. He has the wrong results or something. We didn’t ask for a pregnancy test. Then, I turn toward Daisy and she’s staring at me with her mouth hanging open, tears brimming in her wide eyes, and it all feels…right.

Who knows what the fuck is going to happen from here, but in this moment, everything is perfect.

“I could tell you exactly how this is going to go, and we could map out the rest of our lives to ensure that every single moment is perfect, but the only guarantee in life is that it won’t happen the way you think it will, baby girl. All we can do is enjoy this moment, right now.”

Deep down, I know that Ronan and I were always meant to find each other. The odds may have been stacked against us, but there was something far more powerful bringing us together. In some strange way, I think my mother would be relieved to know we found each other. It may seem unconventional, but this is what she wanted, for both of us to find the kind of love that makes life worth living. And no matter what this cruel, poetic life brings us, I know he’ll be there to take care of me. And I’ll be there to take care of him.

There are days when I struggle to find anything poetic—when the kids are screaming or the house is a mess or my music just won’t come. Nights when I feel like the least sexiest person on the planet, sure that my husband will never want to touch me again. Moments when I feel like a failure.

So we sold the apartment in the Latin Quarter and bought a bigger house on the outskirts of the city. It’s a dream come true.

that's where we stayed!

“Yes, buddy. Daddy is the richest man in the whole world,” he jokes in a booming voice. “In the whole world?” Julian asks in amazement. Then, Ronan brings his free hand around my shoulder, squeezing me tight as we slowly stroll down the pathway of the park. With his lips against my head, he softly replies, “Yes, Daddy is the richest man in the whole world.” And I know he’s not talking about money.