Read Online Bought by Tara Crescent - Free Book Online Page B

The woman who had, for a brief instant of time, made me forget who I was, made me forget everything else except her. The woman I’d almost given up hope of seeing again.   
    Part of me was wary. But that was only a small part. Though I couldn’t admit it to Jean-Luc and wouldn’t even admit it to myself, my heart was truly, profoundly glad to see her again.
     

Chapter 7
    Ellie / Jenny:
    Anton stayed and talked to me for a few minutes. His eyes were warm as they rested on my body. There was open appreciation in them. In that moment in time, I was filled with regret for the girl I’d never been.
    In a different world, would I have felt emboldened by his lustful gaze? Would I have felt desire, not this queasy, roiling feeling in my stomach? He didn’t seem capable of harming me, not in the way Dylan had. I’d no doubt that this man would play games, even harsh and cruel ones. But he would do it with the knowledge that he had my consent and I was a willing participant in the activities.
    But my time in Abeokuta had scarred me. Only once in my life had I been a willing participant in my seduction. Only with Marc.
    I answered Anton’s questions, kneeling on the floor. His hands stroked my shoulder gently as we talked, his fingers caressing my hair. It was a pleasant feeling and I should have felt my body sway towards him. But there was a void inside me. An absence of desire.
    I hid it well. I smiled and laughed with him. I pretended that we were metaphorically circling around each other in that ages-old dance of seduction. And a watchful part of me kept an eye on the room, searching for the man who might be Alexander Hamilton.
    ***
    Once he took his leave, I was alone once more for a few minutes. I pulled my robe back on and I let my gaze wander around the room.
    As fanciful as it sounded, I think my heart felt his presence first. I could feel it thud in my chest as my eyes passed over Elena’s little sitting area, where only the broad shoulders of a man sitting on the couch were visible.
    Inexplicably, my pulse started to beat faster. My gaze snapped to the back of that head. My body recognized him before my mind did.
    Marc. The stranger from a bar in Paris, two years ago.
    Then he turned, as if he felt the weight of my stare. Our eyes locked for a brief second before I hastily lowered my gaze.
    Everything spun. The room was hazy. My heart beat in a staccato rhythm, hard and fast, as I struggled to process the fact that the man who had provided me with my first and only pleasurable sexual encounter was here at Madame Lorraine’s in order to purchase a slave.
    There were no coincidences. There were never any coincidences. Two years ago, I’d run into a bar and I’d sat next to Marc. We’d fallen into conversation and then into his bed. But he was here in Bangkok, at this exclusive auction that only the wealthiest men and women in the world attended. Suddenly, Marc last-name-unknown was a player in this game and I needed to understand where and how he fit into the whole story.
    But while my mind raced, my body reacted to his presence. My nipples hardened and my pussy grew damp. Sparkles of remembered pleasure ran through my body, like the memory of fireworks on a starry summer night.
    He had been the only man I had truly wanted. The only man who had made me feel cherished and desired. But his presence here told me that everything I had felt had been based on a lie.
    I surreptitiously wiped my palms against the gown, wishing once again for the cold security of my Bowie knife.
    Had he recognized me? If he had, my cover was blown sky-high. But I doubted it. There hadn’t been any sign of awareness in his brief glance.  That night, two years ago, my hair had been red and curly and my body had been curvier. Now I was a skinny brunette with pin-straight hair. I didn’t even recognize myself in the mirror.
    It had been just one night a long time ago. There had undoubtedly been many women in his bed since our Parisian