Page 39 of Bid For Me
“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice almost soft, but there’s a sharp edge to it. “So obedient now, aren’t you?”
A flush creeps over my cheeks, and I feel a wave of shame mixed with arousal, my body responding despite myself. He tilts his head, watching me, and I feel as though he can see right through me, past every defence I’ve ever put up.
“I want you to remember this feeling,” he continues, his tone dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Remember what it feels like to be at my mercy, to know that your actions have consequences. Because next time you eventhinkof crossing that line again…” He lets the sentence hang, unfinished, but the warning is clear, potent, and it sends a shiver down my spine.
“Yes, Sir,” I whisper, my voice trembling, my whole body aching, desperate. “Sorry, Sir.”
He leans closer, his lips brushing against mine, his breath warm, intoxicating. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and the praise feels like a balm, soothing some of the tension in my chest, and I realise just how much I needed it, needed this.
How much I needhim.
But just as I lean into him, as I feel my walls starting to crumble, he pulls back, his gaze hardening again, reminding me of exactly where I stand.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Seb
Elle’s eyes are wide,her breaths shallow, and there’s this beautiful, desperate need flickering in them as she kneels in front of me. It’s a rare thing, seeing her like this, every ounce of her defiance stripped away, leaving nothing but pure, raw vulnerability. And it does something to me – something primal, something that digs deep into the part of me that needs control, needs her to understand exactly where she belongs.
I lean down, letting my fingers thread through her hair, tilting her head back just slightly so she’s looking up at me. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in her gaze, but I can see the way her lips part, the way her body leans into my touch, every inch of her silently begging for more. She’s beautiful like this, fragile, yet still holding onto the smallest sliver of her usual fire, and it’s driving me mad.
“You’re trembling, Elle.” My voice is soft, almost mocking, and I watch as her cheeks flush, a hint of indignation flaring in her eyes before she lowers them again. Good. I don’t want her to be comfortable; I want herfeelingevery bit of the punishment she’s earned.
I glide my right thumb over her bottom lip, feeling the soft warmth there, the way her breath hitches as I press just slightly. “Is this what you wanted, hmm? All that jealousy, all that anger – just a cover for what you needed from me?” Her lips tremble under my touch, and I can feel her battling with herself, trying to hold onto her pride even now. But she’s not going to win this one. Not today.
She doesn’t respond, and it makes me chuckle, low and dark. “Nothing to say now?” I murmur, my thumb still against her lip. Her gaze flicks up to mine, defiant even now, and it only makes me want to push her further, to see just how far she’ll go to cling to that stubborn streak of hers.
“Seb…” Her voice is soft, pleading, and the sound of my name on her lips like that almost unravels me right then and there. But I hold steady, leaning closer until our faces are inches apart, until I can feel her breath warm against my skin.
“Yes?” I ask, my tone a velvet whisper, and I watch as she swallows, her gaze dropping again. There’s nothing she can say now, no way to argue herself out of this.
“You wanted me to see you on that stage, to let someone else touch what’s mine. You knew exactly what you were doing.” I pause, letting my words sink in, letting her feel the weight of my anger, my disappointment. “Did you think I wouldn’t react?”
She shivers under my gaze, her fingers twitching slightly against the carpet as if she wants to reach for me, to ground herself, but she doesn’t move. Good. Let her sit with it. Let her feel the consequences of pushing me, of doubting where she stands with me.
“Look at me,” I command, my voice firm, and I see the struggle in her, the hesitation, but slowly, she lifts her gaze, those beautiful eyes of hers wide, vulnerable. “I’m not going to tolerate this again, Elle. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispers, her voice barely above a breath, and I can see the apology in her eyes, the regret. But I’m not letting her off that easily.
I release my hold on her hair, straightening up, watching the way she remains still, waiting, her body taut with anticipation. The scent of her is in the air, intoxicating, clouding my thoughts, and I have to grit my teeth to keep myself from pulling her into me, from taking her right here. But I know that’s not what she needs. What she needs is to understand that this is more than just a game, that her actions have very real consequences.
“Stand up,” I order, my voice low, and she scrambles to her feet, her cheeks flushed, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. She’s trying to regain her composure, to hold onto some semblance of control, but I can see the way her hands tremble slightly, the way her gaze flickers with barely-contained need.
I reach out, my fingers sliding down her arm, feeling the warmth of her skin, the way her body responds to even the slightest touch. She’s on edge, her nerves frayed, and it’s exactly where I want her.
She tenses, her breathing picking up, her eyes widening as she realises the depth of her situation. But underneath it all, there’s that undeniable spark of need, the way her body reacts, her lips parting.
I keep my gaze locked on her, watching the subtle play of emotions across her face – the shame, the anticipation, and beneath it all, the desire. Elle stands before me, her hands clenched at her sides, her entire body taut like a bowstring, trembling as she waits for whatever I’ll decide to do next. There’s a thrill in knowing she’s entirely in my hands, that every thought racing through her mind right now centers around what I’m going to do to her. She brought us here, pushed us to this edge, and now she’ll feel the full weight of that choice.
I step closer, my fingers trailing slowly, purposefully, down her arm, lingering just long enough to let her feel the heat of my touch. She shudders, and I catch the way her lips part, the way her gaze flicks up to meet mine, wide-eyed, as if daring me to take this further – and I will.
“Did you like putting yourself on display, knowing I’d see?” I ask, my voice low, pressing each word against her with deliberate, unyielding intensity.
Her mouth opens, but no words come out. Her cheeks flush a beautiful shade of pink, and I see the way her pride flickers, fighting not to give in. But the struggle only fuels me, the defiance feeding the need to strip her down, to have her laid bare in every way, vulnerable and begging.
I bring my hand to her chin, tilting her face up, forcing her to meet my gaze. “It’s too late to hide, angel,” I murmur. “You are now the sole focus of my attention.”
I let my thumb slide down, brushing the soft skin of her throat, feeling the rapid beat of her pulse beneath my touch. She shivers, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment, and I don’t miss the way her breathing deepens, the way her body sways towards me despite herself. I can tell she’s still grappling with her pride, but I have no intention of letting her keep it.