Highest Bidder Collection - Lauren Landish Page 0,62

takes them graciously, whispering, “Thank you.”

I nod my head. I think a therapist is far better equipped than I am. I’m out of my realm of expertise. I know I can help her. I can train her to find her release. I know I can give her that. I can show her she’s capable.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes again, and I don’t like it. I don’t need her to tell me she’s sorry. I need her to tell me she wants me to help. That she believes I can help her.

“Don’t be. I’m here for you.”

“I can give you what you need,” I say quietly.

She nods her head, but she’s not really understanding.

“I’m going to show you how deserving you are.” Her sad expression stares back at me, she’s exhausted and emotional.

And I’m sure she’s hungry. One need at a time. I’ll take care of her.

“Come, treasure. I need you to clean yourself up for dinner.” She sniffles and nods her head, but before she can move off the bed, I wrap my arm around her waist and bring her closer to me.

“First, tell me something.”

“What?” she asks warily.

“Anything,” I tell her. I just want her to talk to me.

“Anything?”

I nod my head and repeat, “Anything,” and kiss the tip of her nose. She smiles and curls up slightly, leaning next to me and looking across the room.

“I like lemon flavored Italian water ice the best.”

A small laugh leaves my lips in a huff. “Lemon?” I say with a smile.

She looks up at me, expectantly. It takes me a moment to realize what she’s waiting for. “Cherry. I think I prefer cherry.”

“You need to have your bracelet on,” I tell her, grabbing her wrist and slipping the triple-ringed bracelet on before we can leave. Security knew she was coming while I waited for her. But I don’t want to piss them off parading her around without the required membership bracelet. I hold her waist as we walk to the door. She’s much better now that I’ve given her time to get ready. She needs touch though. She’s still hurting. I can see it in her eyes.

I lead her out of the room, my hand along her back and it’s only then that I realize she’s not collared. I can’t allow that. I want everyone to know she’s mine.

“To the right, treasure,” I say and pull her slightly, my fingers slipping around her waist, my thumb brushing easily along her hip and bringing her closer to me as we enter the Club X store, Sex and Submission.

“You need a collar.” She smiles slightly and looks up at me as the words hit her. That touch of shyness comes over her as she brushes her hair behind her ear. I love that about her. That sweet bashfulness that she has.

I should have already bought her a collar. From the moment she set foot through those doors, she should have been labeled as mine. I’ll have to get her a necklace, too. I always want a symbol of my possession around her neck.

The shop’s walls are made of glass and arranged in a way that makes it look as though it’s all purposefully arranged decoration. Just like the rest of the club, it shines with luxury.

Dahlia’s eyes lock onto the collars on black velvet display stands the moment we enter. There are a variety, but none of them are good enough. She should be draped in gold. Just as she was when I first saw her. I’ll get her something temporary for now, but as soon as we’re home, I’m buying her one that’s deserving of her beauty.

Dahlia walks toward the collars of her own accord and then freezes, looking back at me with frightened eyes. I merely nod and stay by the register.

She gently touches a few collars, but doesn’t pick any of them up although she goes back to one three times before she finally settles on it.

It’s a simple flat silver band with a single loop at the front, and a lock and key closure.

Knowing she won't be able to take it off once I put it on her sends a thrill I can only partially understand shooting through me.

I’m more than happy she chose one with this type of closure, and I make a mental note to make sure her next collar has the same. I glance at the price tag on the underside before making my way to the register. $15,000. Dahlia seems somewhat uncomfortable behind me, a question