Bidding For Her Curves - Flora Ferrari Page 0,7

that chest of hers, in those hips, in that space between her-

“Sir?”

I open my eyes, not realizing I’d closed them again.

I’m smiling now, I can feel my mouth stretching wide across my whole face.

Happy in the knowledge, the reminder that I am Mason Thorne. A man who knows what he wants, and more importantly… knows how to go about getting it.

Well. At least I know her name, and where she works.

It’s a start.

“Thank you, that’ll be all,” I announce, dismissing them both with a wave of my hand and returning to my office, and closing the door behind me.

Still smiling, I pick up the copy of tonight’s program as I sit at my desk, adjusting the front of my pants, realizing I still have a hard on that could probably cut glass.

Jules McPherson.

A name, a work address, and about a minute from finding out everything my company has on file.

I punch in her name on my laptop, scouring the vast database of my companies, and there she is… her employee profile at least.

I feel another grunting gasp escape me, her picture filling half the screen, her details underneath.

My finger traces her lips, but my other hand. That’s got a life of its own.

In a second, I have my dick out under my desk, feeling my hand pounding against the hardwood underneath, my own wood nowhere near relieved by my own touch.

I need her hands on me, not mine.

My urge to climax, just at the thought of her is so powerful, so strong, but my will is stronger. Slowly, I stop palm fucking myself, and bring my hand to where I can see it.

“I have to save it for you, Jules,” I tell her picture. “Every bit of me. It’s all for you now.”

It’s pointless to try and put it back in my pants though, not yet. I haven’t been this hard since… well, I don’t think I ever have been, come to think of it.

Confirming what the guard said, I can see she does work just a few blocks away, and I frown when I see her address.

A rough side of town. Not somewhere I want her staying a minute longer than she has to.

But why run?

I ask her in my mind, going back to her photo.

For the first time in probably twenty years, I feel something I haven’t ever felt. Self-doubt.

I know I’m Mason Thorne. I know I own half this town. I know I get whatever I want.

But what if?

What if she’s really just not into older guys?

I have to push the thought aside. I can’t afford to think like this.

Leaning back, still keeping her picture up, I put my feet up on my desk, noticing how hard I still am. I start to thumb through the program.

Wondering if there’s anything about her in here somewhere.

It doesn’t take long.

There’s a list of all the candidates, hundreds by the looks, who’ve signed up to be auctioned for the charity of their choice.

Jules’ photo is the same one as her employee profile, and it looks like she’s auctioning her services for a soup kitchen downtown.

I feel a swelling of something else inside.

Pride.

I’m proud of her, putting others ahead of herself, going through all the nonsense of some auction style public humiliation.

That’s how I’d see it.

But when I see the starting bids in a Column next to the names and faces, I plant my feet back on the ground.

Standing, I push myself back into my pants and zip up.

I feel my anger rising again.

Starting bid: Twenty-five dollars.

I notice some of the other girls, even the men have bids ten times that.

There must be a typo?

Out of habit, I call aloud for Nicholas. Groaning when I remember he’s not here.

It takes a little doing. I’m ashamed to say I’m not quite used to having to look up information for myself and even dial my own phone calls.

But in a few moments, I’m talking to someone from Jules’ office.

Someone named Karen.

A quick glance at the auction program has her pegged for five hundred bucks starting bid, although I just can’t hear that kind of value in her voice.

Chapter Five

Jules

I can hardly see through the tears I’m holding back, but I feel myself skidding over some of those stupid programs.

A part of me knows I must be wrong. Mason Thorne just carried me to a couch, he was a mere inch from my face, practically groaning with... satisfaction?

But no.

I can’t believe it. I don’t see how a man like Mason could see anything in