50 shades darker

Chapter 7

Everything in it is entirely imaginary and intended only for entertainment; I created it for fun. I did not write 50 Shades darker or any of its characters, and I do not own them.

Chapter 7

Holy shit, did I really just do that? It must be the alcohol. I've had champagne plus four glasses of four different wines. I glance up at Harry who's busy applauding.

Crap, he's going to be so angry, and we've been getting on so well. My subconscious has finally decided to make an appearance, and he's wearing his Edvard Munch Scream face. Harry leans over to me, a large fake smile plastered across his face. He kisses my cheek and then moves closer to whisper in my ear in a very cold, controlled voice.

"I don't know whether to worship at your feet or spank the living shit out of you." Oh, I know what I want right now. I gaze up at him, blinking through my mask. I just wish I could read what's in his eyes.

"I'll take option two, please," I whisper frantically as the applause dies down. His lips part as he inhales sharply. Oh, that chiseled mouth—I want it on me, now. I ache for him. He gives me a radiant sincere smile that leaves me breathless.

"Suffering, are you? We'll have to see what we can do about that," he murmurs as he runs his fingers along my jaw.

His touch resonates deep, deep inside where that ache has spawned and grown. I want to jump him right here, right now, but we sit back to watch the auction of the next lot.

I can barely sit still. Harry drapes an arm around my shoulders, his thumb rhythmically stroking my back, sending delicious tingles down my spine. His free hand clasps mine, bringing it to his lips, then letting it rest on his lap.

Slowly and surreptitiously, so I don't realize his game until it's too late, he eases my hand up his leg and against his erection. I gasp, and my eyes dart in panic around the table, but all eyes are fixed on the stage. Thank heavens for my mask.

Taking full advantage, I slowly caress him, letting my fingers explore. Harry keeps his hand over mine, hiding my bold fingers, while his thumb skates softly over the nape of my neck. His mouth opens as he gasps softly, and it's the only reaction I can see to my inexperienced touch. But it means so much. He wants me. I can feel my cock perking up in excitement. This is becoming unbearable.

A week by Lake Adriana in Montana is the final lot for auction. Of course Mr. and Dr. Styles have a house in Montana, and the bidding escalates rapidly, but I am barely aware of it. I feel him growing beneath my fingers, and it makes me feel so powerful.

"Sold, for one hundred ten thousand dollars!" the MC declares victoriously. The whole room bursts into applause, and reluctantly I follow as does Harry, ruining our fun.

He turns to me and his lips twitch. "Ready?" he mouths over the rapturous cheering.

"Yes," I mouth back

"Lou!" Gemma calls. "It's time!"

What? No. Not again! "Time for what?"

"The First Dance Auction. Come on!" She stands and holds out her hand.

I glance at Harry who is, I think, scowling at Gemma, and I don't know whether to laugh or cry, but it's laughter that wins. I succumb to a cathartic bubble of schoolgirl giggles, as we are thwarted once more by the tall, pink powerhouse that is Gemma Styles. Harry peers at me, and after a beat, there's a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"The first dance will be with me, okay? And it won't be on the dance floor," he murmurs lasciviously into my ear. My giggles subside as anticipation fans the flames of my need. Oh, yes! My inner goddess performs a perfect triple Salchow in her ice skates.