Auctioned By The Ceo

Chapter 7

Logan shrugged out of his jacket, flung off his tie, and threw both items across the living area of his

suite. It was tempting to send the tray of champagne, strawberries, and hors d'oeuvres the same way.

How satisfying would it be to see the bottle smash against the wall, disfiguring the fine work of art on

display there. That painting mocked him with its display of light and hope for the future depicted by the

couple walking hand in hand towards the sunset. Who did shit like that in real life anyway? So-called

love never lasted.

He poured himself a generous measure of Macallan 21-year-old, malt whisky, and stared out at the

unparalleled view of London’s skyline this suite afforded, while he dow

ned the liquid in one go. The burn down his throat proved a welcome distraction from the dark mood

Rosamunde’s phone call had placed him in. What did a man have to do to get decent help these days?

References meant diddly squat it seemed, and while he was more than aware how difficult the situation

at home was, he sure as fuck didn’t need constant reminders.

What he needed was curvy little Hannah under him, so that he could lose himself in her sighs and

moans while he tortured her with pleasure. Thoughts like that were not helping his current state one

iota. While his hard-on had considerably lessened during that fraught telephone call, just picturing

Hannah in that sinful dress brought his cock back to full speed in record time. So not what he needed,

especially as it was getting damn obvious that she wasn’t coming. The auctions ought to be finished by

now, and even if she had gone back in the ballroom to oversee—and knowing her work ethic that was

no doubt what she had done—she ought to have knocked on his door by now.

Face it, Logan, you’re losing your touch.

Logan scowled at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, while he rubbed his dick in an effort to get some

relief. There was only one thing for it. With Hannah being a no show and his having no appetite to go

cruising for anyone else to keep him company tonight—he wanted the curvy blonde, damn it—he’d

have to take matters in his own hands. Logan turned the rainfall shower on, stripped off his clothes,

and stepped into the walk-in enclosure. Making good use of the complimentary shower gel, he slicked

his hands, grasped his rock-hard dick and pumped. Not enough, not by any means. Eyes closed

against the hot spray, he fisted himself harder, faster, and bit back a grunt. In his mind’s eye, it was

Hannah he saw, on her knees in front of him, her long blonde tresses darkening under the water, her

dress appearing transparent as her lush lips wrapped around his shaft. Yeah, much better.

“That’s my girl, suck me good.” Logan grumbled the command out loud, and fantasy Hannah hollowed

out her cheeks and sucked hard. Pleasure surged through him, hot, hard, immediate, and he grunted

his approval as he splayed his fingers and alternated the pressure on his dick. It wasn’t his fingers he

saw behind his closed lids, but Hannah’s. So real was his fantasy that he heard her soft gasps and

moans as she fondled his balls, and worked the base of his shaft while her head bobbed up and down

on his dick. With one hand braced against the tiled wall, he chased the orgasm that was fast building at

the base of his spine, until the clang of metal forced his eyes open.

Through the haze of steam fogging up the enclosure a shadowy outline, looking remarkably like his

fantasy, watched him. Logan groaned, slid the door open, and stared right into Hannah’s wide eyes.

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“Should I leave you two alone?” Hannah pointedly looked from his cock—still enclosed in his fist—to

his face and back again. The sassy comeback would have worked, were it not for the breathy quality of

her voice and the flush which stained her pale skin. How long had she been standing there, watching

him? It was beyond tempting to simply carry on, but now that she was here, he wouldn’t have to

pretend anymore.

Hannah attempted to pick up the towel rail, which had fallen to the marble floor, and had no doubt been

the noise which had alerted him to her presence. He smirked when she promptly dropped it again. The

resounding clang echoed around the bathroom, and Hannah took several steps back until the wall

stopped her.

“Damn it, I just … fuck.”

The softly delivered curse meant his cock, which had somewhat deflated at the interruption, surged

back to life in his hand, and he turned off the shower with a grin. He didn’t bother to cover up—she’d

seen it all already—and stalked toward her. Besides, he was rather enjoying the way she was eating

him alive with her eyes. The wet footprints he was leaving behind would be dealt with by housekeeping.

“Has your mother not taught you to knock on doors, little dove?”

He slapped both hands on the wall next to her face, as he growled those words, and Hannah flinched.

Something akin to regret, almost pain, flashed over her expressive face before she narrowed her eyes

and did her best to glare up at him.

“I did knock.”

Logan smiled and raised an eyebrow.

“Really?” He dropped his voice on purpose to rattle her a bit more, and sure enough she rose to the

bait.

“Yes, really, it’s hardly my fault you didn’t hear me because you were…” The most endearing blush

stained her pale skin, as she seemed to struggle for the right words.

“Because I was what, little dove? Don’t be shy now, tell me what you’re thinking.”

Hannah made the cutest sound at the back of her throat, something between a growl and an

exasperated huff, and rolled her eyes.

“Because you were too busy playing slap the donkey with your schlong.”

“Schlong?” Logan didn’t know whether to be amused or offended at having his cock referred to thus.

“Yes, what would you call that?”

She glanced down at said appendage and attempted to cross her arms. No doubt to hide her body’s far

too obvious reaction to him. It made him even harder, eager to lose himself in her soft body and to

finish with her what he’d started on his own in the shower. She accidentally grazed his cock with her

arm in her attempt to hide her hard nipples from him. Like “come suck me” beacons they pushed

against the satin of her gown, and made Logan’s mouth water with the need to taste them. How

responsive would those little nubs be as he rolled them between his fingers, sucked them in his mouth,

and bit down? Would she like that nip of pain, find it as much as a turn-on as he did, or would that be

one step too far for sensible little Hannah? Not that she looked very sensible now with her dilated

pupils, and the fine sheen of arousal coating her skin. Her heart beat an uneven staccato at the base of

her throat, and a groan escaped her full lips when he ran his nose along that sensitive area and

inhaled. Her sweet scent, made more potent by her arousal, called him to bite down, to mark her in the

most primitive of ways, but he couldn’t and wouldn’t do that without her consent. To give into his darker

desires was a two-edged sword, one he couldn’t allow himself to unleash, not now, perhaps not ever

again. Certainly not with someone who worked for him, and with the hearing hanging over his head, he

wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize his success there. He owed Claudia that much.