The room reeked of power and perfume.
Aurora stood in the spotlight, trembling, the harsh glow of the chandelier above casting shadows across her bare shoulders. The silk robe she wore barely clung to her frame. It was green, chosen not by her, but by the woman who had washed and dressed her minutes before shoving her into the center of the auction room.
Her wrists were no longer bound, but her soul still was.
Rows of men lounged in leather armchairs beyond the gold railing. Most wore suits. Some sipped scotch. All had eyes that sliced her open. Except for one.
He didn't sit.
He stood at the back of the room, hands in his pockets, a black coat hanging from his shoulders like a second skin. He hadn't raised a paddle once. But he didn't need to.
When the bidding slowed — high, but not record-breaking — he spoke one word:
"Double."
The auctioneer blinked. "Sir, that's—"
"I said double."
Silence fell. Aurora's lips parted. She didn't even realize she'd taken a step backward until the woman behind her shoved her forward again.
The man didn't move.
But his eyes met hers.
And in that moment — as the gavel slammed, and she was sold like a lamb to a wolf — Aurora knew her life had just ended.
Or maybe it had just begun.
⸻
The car ride was silent.
No introductions. No name. No conversation. Just the hum of the engine and the occasional flick of Rafael Costa's fingers against the steering wheel. She sat beside him in the backseat, stiff and quiet, her eyes fixed on the city lights blurring past.
"Why didn't you speak up for yourself?" His voice was a knife in the silence.
She flinched.
"I… didn't think it would matter."
"It doesn't," he said simply. "But I prefer women with mouths. Not dolls."
She swallowed.
"Take off the robe."
She turned to him, heart hammering. "What?"
His eyes met hers again. Slow. Lethal. Amused.
"I bought you. You knew what that meant when you walked on that stage. Or were you too stupid to ask?"
Shame and rage tangled in her throat. But before she could respond, his hand moved — slowly — to the sash at her waist. She slapped it away on instinct.
That was a mistake.
Rafael moved so fast she barely saw him. In a flash, she was pinned against the car door, his hand wrapped tightly around her throat.
"Try that again," he whispered, his mouth brushing the shell of her ear, "and I'll make sure your first orgasm comes from punishment."
Aurora's breath caught. Her thighs squeezed shut. She hated the way her body reacted. Hated the way her nipples hardened against the silk, the heat that pooled low in her belly.
"I see you understand now." He loosened his grip — just enough to let her breathe. "Good girl."
His hand slipped down her chest, dragging the robe open. He didn't look away as he pulled it apart, baring her breasts, then her stomach, and lower.
She gasped when he touched her — no warning, no softness.
His fingers slid between her thighs, parting her.
"You're wet," he murmured darkly, dragging his thumb over her clit. "Slut."
Her cheeks burned. "I'm not—"
He silenced her with two fingers pressing into her mouth.
"Lick," he ordered.
Aurora hesitated.
The car slowed.
"I said lick."
She obeyed.
He watched her, eyes hooded, cock already hard beneath his slacks. When she'd coated his fingers with her tongue, he pulled them out and shoved them between her legs again, sliding through her slick folds.
"Now," he growled. "You're going to sit on my lap and ride my cock like the little toy you were bought to be."
Her heart stopped. "Right here?"
"You want to live in a mansion, eat three meals a day, and sleep on silk sheets? Then earn it."
He unzipped his pants, pulled out his thick length, and patted his lap. "Now."
Aurora crawled over him slowly, cheeks burning, breath shaking. When she lowered herself onto him, her entire body stretched wide — the fullness unbearable, the heat unbearable.
She whimpered.
He didn't move.
"Take it," he whispered. "Take all of me."
And when she did — when her hips met his and her nails dug into his shoulders — he finally gave in.
Rafael thrust up hard.
Aurora cried out. He smirked.
"Let's see how loud you can get, little one."
The car swerved.
The driver never said a word.
Her moans filled the cabin as Rafael gripped her hips and fucked her slowly, deliberately, letting her feel every inch. She tried not to like it. She failed. Her legs trembled. Her lips parted. Her climax built with every thrust until—
The car jerked.
Brakes slammed.
Rafael pushed her off him in a flash, hand on his holster, eyes locked forward.
The car had stopped.
Someone was standing in front of it.
A figure in black, holding a gun, staring straight through the windshield.
"Aurora," Rafael said lowly, drawing his weapon, "Get on the floor. Now."