The Auction: A Dark Romance: Chapter 21

Riggs has been punishing me. No matter what I do, he won’t come home. It’s been almost three weeks. I’ve texted and called him, but he hardly responds. A few times, I’ve gotten a returned text, always with the same message.

I’ve begged him to come home, but he doesn’t.

It’s not doing anything for my writer’s block. I still can’t put any lyrics together to save my life. I sit at the piano most of the day, hitting the keys, but nothing comes.

I shouldn’t have told Riggs he’s the pressure in my life, but I did, and he won’t let me take it back. Nor should I have said I was his girlfriend. And I’d do anything to have him back, but he won’t come home.

Another day passes, turning to darkness. I wait up until midnight, then take a shower. I dry off and slide into his bed, trying to inhale the remaining scent of him on the pillowcase, but it’s fading.

I send him a text message.

I stare at the screen, but a message never comes. I finally fall asleep with the window open, listening to the waves crash on the shore, wondering if Riggs has surfed somewhere else or not.

At some point in the night, I open my eyes and wonder if I’m dreaming.

Riggs sits on the armchair in the corner, staring at me, holding a crystal tumbler of scotch.

I sit up in bed. My voice cracks as I ask, ‘Why aren’t you in bed?’

He remains silent, his eyes pinned on me.

I walk over to him and put my hand on his cheek, but he moves his head.

‘Don’t do this,’ I beg.

He scowls, questioning, ‘What do you think this is between us, Blakely?’

The smell of scotch flares in my nostrils. I peer closer, assessing him, then accuse, ‘You’re drunk.’

It surprises me. I know how much Riggs hates intoxication. He told me about his mother and why he also gets so disgusted by my mother and her addiction issues. And, of course, I’ll never forget how he acted the one time I got drunk.

He clenches his jaw. A small twitch forms. He reaches around my body, palming my ass, then moves his hand down and slides it underneath my nightgown. He repeats, ‘Tell me, pet, what do you think we are?’

My insides quiver. I ask, ‘Does it matter?’

He chuckles and takes a large gulp of his scotch. ‘I don’t know. Does it?’

‘Come to bed?’ I ask and squeeze his hand. I pull, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he squeezes my ass harder, tugging me toward him until I fall over him.

I tuck a lock of his hair behind his ear, suggesting, ‘Why don’t you take a shower and then come to bed?’

He drops the glass, and it shatters on the floor. His hand fists my hair, and he tugs my head back. He leans over me, snarling, ‘Answer my question, pet. What do you think we are?’

Tears form in my eyes. Emotions I’ve been holding in for the past few weeks overpower me. I admit, ‘I don’t know. Whatever you want us to be. You’re the one who gets to make the decisions, remember?’

‘That’s not what I asked,’ he snaps.

‘Riggs, drop it. Just come to bed,’ I say again, but I’m suddenly afraid. When I’m with Riggs, I trust him. But the look in his eyes right now is so unhinged. There’s no control in it anywhere, and that’s not the Riggs Madden I know. Plus, I’ve never seen him drunk before. I know from my mother how someone can change when under the influence.

He glances at my lips, and I think he’s going to kiss me. There’s no doubt in my mind it’s what we need. When Riggs allows me to kiss him, he always softens.

I slide my hand over his hair and push his face toward me, but he freezes, pausing an inch from my lips. He declares, ‘You’re a temptress.’

‘I’m not,’ I state.

He grunts, claiming, ‘You know exactly what you’re doing. Don’t you, pet?’

‘What are you talking about?’

He looks at me with disgust and rises, pushing me to my feet. He moves toward the bedroom door.

I follow him. ‘Riggs, where are you going? You can’t drive like this.’

He chuckles. ‘I can do whatever I want. I’m in charge. Remember, pet?’

I pull on his arm. ‘Riggs, you’re drunk.’

‘So what?’ he mutters.

‘Stop. You can’t go outside,’ I insist.

He grabs his keys off the table, then spins toward me. Anger flares on his face. ‘And why is that, pet?’

‘Because I don’t want something to happen to you!’

He grunts. ‘Why? Do you really care?’

‘Of course I care. Why are you saying this? You know I care about you!’

He moves toward me, and fear reignites inside me. I step back, and he continues lunging toward me until I’m up against the wall. His rage radiates over me. He slides his hand on my cheek and rubs his thumb over my lips, seething, ‘Tell me what we are, pet.’

I say the only thing that comes to mind that I think he might want me to say. ‘You’re my Dom, Sir, and I’m your sub.’

His face hardens to stone, confusing me.

I reach for him, not wanting to anger him further and trying to show him I care about him.

He holds my wrists in front of us. ‘Did I give you permission to touch me?’

‘Sorry.’

‘Sorry’s not good enough, pet. You don’t like rules, do you?’ he accuses.

I stay quiet.

He drags his knuckles over my chest, squeezing my nipple between his fingers until I gasp, demanding, ‘I asked you a question, and I want an answer.’ He moves to my other breast.

I try to steady my breath.

‘Answer me,’ he pushes.

‘I like your rules.’

He grunts. ‘No, you don’t. You don’t even like me.’

‘That’s not true,’ I cry out.

He scoffs. ‘Then what do you want us to be, Blakely? What do you get out of this?’

I don’t know why he’s pushing this. There’s no answer I can give him that will make him happy. He’s made it clear he doesn’t want me to be his girlfriend. My acknowledgment that he’s the Dom and I’m the sub wasn’t what he was looking for. No matter what I say, I can’t win. So I firmly state, ‘I want you to come home.’

‘No. Wrong answer,’ he asserts and cups his hand over my pussy. His index finger slides across my slit.

The fire in my core lights up. It’s been so long since he’s touched me. But I don’t want him like this. It makes me realize how much I appreciate the in-control-of-everything Riggs.

I beg again, ‘Come to bed. Please.’

‘Nope, not until you’re honest,’ he states.

‘I don’t know what you want me to say,’ I admit.

‘Sure you do. I want the truth. Why can’t you just give me the truth, pet?’

‘I have told you the truth.’

‘No, you haven’t,’ he insists. He leans closer to my ear and repeats in a slow but firm voice, ‘What do you want from me?’

I keep my mouth shut, too scared about what might come out.

‘Tell me the truth, and I’ll stay,’ he adds.

I can’t blink my tears away. They drip down my cheek. I cave and admit, ‘I want you to love me.’

He sighs as if relieved, which surprises me again. Then his face turns darker. He studies me for a moment, and a sinister grin forms on his lips. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, pet. I don’t love,’ he claims.

I turn my face away, trying to control my emotions. He mutters, ‘You’re better off.’ He spins and walks toward the front door.

‘Riggs, you’re drunk,’ I repeat and grab the keys out of his hand.

It takes him by surprise. He turns on me. ‘Don’t fuck with me, Blakely.’

‘You’re not leaving,’ I declare.

New rage flares on his cheeks. The fear hits me again, but I’m not giving them to him. He’s too drunk.

He orders, ‘Give me the keys, pet.’

‘No,’ I say, my voice and body shaking.

He yells, ‘Give me the keys!’

‘No!’ I run to the bedroom and slam the door, locking it.

He bangs on the door.

I go into the bathroom, open the exit to the side balcony, and step outside. I put the keys underneath one of the vases, then return inside.

Riggs is still pounding on the door. He shouts, ‘Pet, open this door now.’

I unlock the door, then slide into bed.

‘What are you doing? Where are my keys?’ he slurs.

‘I threw them on the beach. You’re not going to find them. Sober up and stop being a hypocrite,’ I add, then turn my face on the pillow.

He stands over me for a long time. I close my eyes, unsure what he’s going to do next. He finally stomps out of the room and slams the door.

I stay in the room, and when I finally get up the next morning, he’s nowhere.

I text him.

I don’t receive a response and try calling. It goes to his voicemail.

All day, I keep trying to contact him. I call him. I text him. But it doesn’t matter. He never answers. I don’t even sit at the piano. The last thing I can think about is my work.

It’s late at night when he finally comes back into the house. ‘Where have you been?’ I ask.

He has on a fresh suit and looks like he does every night when he comes home from work. He clenches his jaw and looks down at me, threatening, ‘Don’t you ever take my keys away from me again.’

‘You were drunk,’ I state.

‘Like I said, don’t ever do it again,’ he warns, then walks into the bedroom.

I follow him. ‘Where did you go?’

‘None of your business.’

‘Yes, it is,’ I claim, sick of this bullshit with him. I put my hand on my hip and add, ‘I may have signed a contract, but this is ridiculous. I’m not going to be somebody that you can just walk all over whenever you decide to have a mood swing.’

He steps out of his pants and tosses them into the laundry basket. Then takes his jacket and shirt off until he’s wearing only his boxers.

‘Riggs, we can’t keep doing this,’ I state.

He turns, pinning his eyes on me. ‘Did you write anything?’

My heart pounds harder. ‘No.’

‘I’ve been gone for three weeks, and you’ve not written anything?’ he accuses.

‘It’s not that easy.’

‘Well, you said I was the pressure. I removed it. Why don’t you have a notebook of songs?’

‘Riggs, I said I was sorry and didn’t mean it.’

‘Sure you did,’ he claims and slides past me.

I follow him and tug on his arm. ‘Riggs!’

He spins into me. ‘What, Blakely? Am I pressure whether I’m here or not? Am I your excuse if you fail?’

I stare at him for a minute. It hits me how broken he is, even though I’m the one he always tries to break. It saddens me. Riggs is more broken than any man I’ve ever met.

I soften my tone, admitting, ‘The only person whose fault it will be if I fail is mine. I’m sorry I acted how I did. It’s amazing what you’ve done for me.’

His face hardens further.

‘I mean it. Stay. I need you. You can’t keep staying away from me like this.’

He steps closer, dragging his fingertip down my cheek. ‘What do you need me for, Blakely?’

I lift my chin and square my shoulders. ‘I need from you whatever it is you need from me,’ I declare, my voice shaking.

‘That’s a paradox,’ he states.

‘One you know makes sense,’ I claim.

Silence fills the air, and tension burns through the room like a hurricane.

I cave, restating, ‘I need you. All of you. I’m not doing well without you.’

The darkness deepens to the point I can see the shift. He takes my hand, leads me to the piano, then picks me up. He sits me on the crystal top, ordering. ‘Kneel.’

‘On this?’ I ask.

He traces the skin above my collar, commanding, ‘Assume your position, pet.’

It only takes me a few seconds of debate. If this brings Riggs back, I’ll do what it takes. I obey, kneeling, my spine straight, my ass on my calves, my head bowed.

He leaves the room but isn’t gone long. When he returns, he orders, ‘Get on all fours.’

I reposition my body, and he takes a pair of scissors and cuts my sundress, bra, and panties. He drags the smooth part of the blades down my spine, and I shudder. He kisses my ass cheek, murmuring, ‘Do you think I could hurt you, pet?’

I answer honestly. ‘You scared me last night.’

‘Sir,’ he adds.

I take a deep breath, repeating, ‘You scared me last night, Sir.’

He keeps his lips on my spine and widens my thighs with his forearms until my body is only a few inches off the crystal. He asks, ‘So the answer is yes?’

I confess, ‘I don’t know. I want to say no.’

He takes a deep breath, as if inhaling me, and pushes something inside me.

I gasp, and it begins to hum.

He slaps my ass, and I yelp. Without thinking, I cry out, ‘Thank you, Sir.’

‘Ah, my pet didn’t forget,’ he says, relief in his voice. He rubs the sting out of my ass cheek.

‘No, Sir. I didn’t forget.’

He leans into my ear. ‘You say you want my love, well, this is it. This is all I have. Is this what you want?’ he questions.

I close my eyes, wishing I hadn’t admitted it to him again and not understanding why I even seek what I know he’ll never give me.

‘Answer me,’ he says, slapping my ass again.

Whatever’s inside me grows hotter, intensifying faster than what Riggs normally allows at this point of our play.

‘Thank you, Sir!’ I grit through my teeth.

‘Is this what you want?’ he repeats.

‘Yes, Sir,’ I state, making peace with the fact that this is the only way he knows how to love. And if it’s going to bring him home, I’ll accept it. Because even though Riggs is cruel at times, I can’t deny my feelings. No matter how much I don’t want to be in love with him, I am. And if this is all I’ll ever get, it’ll have to be enough. But he has to come home. Every day he’s gone, I die a little more inside.

He asks, ‘You know what I missed, pet?’

‘What, Sir?’

‘Your pussy. Specifically, my tongue on it. And hearing you beg me for hours.’

I close my eyes, trying not to squirm, almost feeling him flickering on my body.

He drags his hand over my spine and steps toward my face, leaning into my ear and challenging, ‘I bet you break rule three.’

‘No, Sir. I won’t,’ I state, determined to be the sub Riggs needs.

‘I’ll make you a deal.’

‘What, Sir?’ I ask.

Tingles erupt on my skin from his hot breath. He asserts, ‘You come without permission, and I leave. You survive, and show me you’re a good pet, and I’ll move back in.’

My determination only grows.

‘It’s up to you, pet,’ he says.

‘Yes, Sir. I won’t break rule three,’ I insist.

He kisses under my lobe, ordering, ‘On your back.’

I roll over.

He takes my feet and plants them flat on the edge of the crystal. Then he grabs my hips and slides my ass toward him. He stares hungrily at my body, holds a remote in the air, and pushes a button while giving me a challenging expression, stating, ‘Let’s see how badly you want me back.’

Whatever he placed inside me intensifies its movements. I swallow hard, realizing he’s not going to show me any mercy. He leans over me, his tongue hits my clit, and I grip his hair, my back arching into the crystal.

He pushes my hands to the sides of my body, far away from me, demanding, ‘Palms down, on the crystal at all times, pet.’ He sinks back into my pussy.

I cry out, unable to stop the incoherent sounds. A tidal wave of adrenaline quickly forms, rushing through my blood at lightning speed.

He reaches up, covers my mouth, then flicks faster while sucking my clit.

There’s no ability to hold anything back. My eyes roll, and I convulse hard against the crystal, squirting my juices, which I’ve never experienced before.

Riggs doesn’t let up.

It’s so intense, I can’t keep my hands still and put them back in his hair. I cry out, ‘I can’t take anymore.’

‘Then use your safe word,’ he taunts, sticking his finger up my ass and nibbling my clit.

‘Riggs! Please!’ I beg.

He sucks, and another rush of adrenaline annihilates my cells.

It becomes a vicious cycle. Riggs makes me come, and I tell him I can’t take anymore. He reminds me I have a safe word, but I never use it.

When he finally stops, there’s a pool of my juices all over the top of the piano. He rises, wipes his forearm across his mouth, then says nothing, leaving the room.

I slowly sit up, trying to catch my breath.

He returns with a pair of joggers and a T-shirt on. His keys are in his hand.

‘Don’t leave,’ I plead.

‘A deal’s a deal. If you’re frustrated, dig into it for your inspiration. Time’s running out, pet. Get your shit done,’ he orders, then leaves me naked and still quivering on the piano.

Something in me snaps. I barely sleep for several days. All I think about is Riggs, and I can’t stop writing.

Somehow, it’s like he knows when I’m done. Four days pass, and I have a notebook of lyrics, along with some of the chords. I get a text.

I don’t ask any more questions. Riggs picks me up, and it’s like nothing has happened, as if he never left. We go to dinner, and it feels like a date. He even lets me kiss him all night. Several times, he initiates it. But in the back of my mind, I remind myself to be careful.

There is no normalcy with Riggs. And eventually, this will all end. Somehow, I need to figure out how to let him go.