Praise (Salacious Players Club, #1)(67)

He clenches his jaw and glares at me in anger.

The man in black looks back at Emerson, waiting for him to bid. I cover my cheeks, praying that this will end. I’m a nobody, not nearly as sexy as Eden or half as beautiful or as interesting as any of the other women that came up here. How can he just throw away money like that?

“Fifty thousand, going once…”

“Seventy-five,” Emerson says, staring at me as if he’s angry at me. My eyes are wide as saucers, and I must be pale as a ghost.

The man in black laughs loudly. “You’re worth every penny, sweetheart, but I think Mr. Grant wants you to himself.”

I’m still staring at Emerson with my mouth hanging open, trying to wrap my head around seventy-five grand.

“Sold!” the announcer yells. “For seventy-five thousand dollars to club owner, Emerson Grant!” The crowd begins to cheer, and I catch Eden clapping with a bright smile, while sitting on someone’s lap in the back of the room.

Before I know what’s happening, I watch Emerson march toward me, looking more irritated than elated at his win. Is he mad at me? Did I do something wrong?

“I’m—I’m…sorry,” I stammer as he takes me by the hand and tosses me over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

The reactions around us are a mixture of laughter and cheers as I’m hoisted across the room with my bare, bite-marked ass slung over Emerson’s shoulder. He doesn’t stop as we disappear down the hallway on the right. It’s not the voyeur hall, but the one with the room we were in today, where we had that quickie on top of the bed.

“Where are we going?” I shriek.

It’s dark back here, but I hear a door close behind us as we reach the dimly lit room with the black bed I remember. My stomach clenches in both excitement and fear.

“I paid for an hour of your time, Charlotte.” He tosses me on the bed and stares down at me with a look of masked anger. “It’s time to collect what I won.”

His large hands grip my ankles and yank me toward him. I let out a yelp. I’m not afraid of Emerson. I trust him, but right now…he seems unhinged. Angry at me for reasons I don’t understand, and I can’t quite tell if we’re supposed to be in a scene or if he’s being real.

“Remind me, Charlotte,” he asks as something soft wraps around my right ankle. When I try to pull my foot away, I realize it’s a restraint. He’s cuffing me to the bed. “What did you put on that little list for punishment?”

“I…I don’t… What am I being punished for?”

He yanks my other leg and wraps another soft, cushioned cuff around my ankle. My legs are spread, and my heart is starting to hammer in my chest.

“What did you say this morning about the auction? What would happen when you were on stage?”

“What?” He’s not making any sense, and I can’t seem to shake my nervousness. Plus, the way I’m restrained and the anticipation for what’s to come has my brain in a fog. He’s so angry and being rougher than usual, and it’s so hot and terrifying that my body doesn’t know if it’s scared or turned on.

“Crickets, Charlotte. You said there would be crickets.”

“Um…yeah,” I reply.

He moves across the room and opens a drawer. I try to peer around him to see what he’s taking out. When he turns back toward me, he has a strip of black silk in his fingers.

“Were there crickets, Charlotte?”

“No…” I reply. He stands at the foot of the bed and stares at me with that tense brow of his, gliding the silk through his fingers.

“How much did I pay for this hour with you?”

“Emerson, you can’t really pay that—”

“Lie down,” he barks in a stern command.

“I don’t understand.”

He raises a brow, tilting his head at me. “Do you want me to stop, Charlotte? If you’re scared, we can walk right out the door.”

“No…” I whisper.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Then, lie down.” His cold voice sends a chill down my spine, and I force my lungs to breathe as I recline on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Emerson moves up toward my head and reaches behind me, fumbling with the clasp of my bra. It unhooks and he pulls it off, releasing my breasts. Then, he gathers my wrists together, tying them with the black silk.

There’s a subtle shake in my bones, but I do my best to hide it. And I realize now that if Emerson is mad at me, he’s going to do something to punish me. And strange as it is, that’s what I want.

I watch as he walks back to the drawer and pulls out another piece of silk. “We haven’t established a safe word because we haven’t needed one yet.”

Safe word? My stomach turns.

“If you want me to stop, just say mercy. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

I repeat the word over and over in my head, making sure I don’t forget it.

Mercy. Mercy. Mercy.

But I won’t need it, will I? He’s not really going to hurt me.

“Charlotte, tell me why you think I’m punishing you tonight.”

I take a breath, staring up at him. His features have softened, and I focus on the fabric in his hands, knowing that it’s going to cover my eyes in a minute, and I need to prepare myself for it.