The Flesh Cartel #2: Auction by Rachel Haimowitz Read Free Book Online Page A

salads and drier whole grain bread. But she was looking at him, and he knew that look, knew it would end in violence—and maybe not just for him but for Mat also—so he sucked it up. Stretched his spine and neck. Tilted his chin. The fudge grazed his lower lip.
    He took it delicately, trying to touch as little of her fingers as possible.

    It was heavenly . Ambrosia. It was all he could do to keep from groaning aloud.
    “As I was saying, I wanted to talk to you personally,” she said. “As you’re about to make me an indecent amount
    of money. Just how indecent will depend on your behavior over the next little while. And lest you think you have no stake in this yourself, understand that when I sell you— Yes, sell you,” she said to the shock Dougie could feel on his face,
    “you may be sold with or without your brother. I’d like you to remember that.”
    No . No. The fudge stuck in his throat and he couldn’t swallow, couldn’t breathe. Without Mat? She couldn’t, she wouldn’t . . .
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I’d die without Mat. Shrivel up and die and if I didn’t then I’d just kill myself because I can’t do this wi—
Madame chuckled and touched her palm to his hair. “Oh, pet. You won’t die, and you certainly won’t have the opportunity to kill yourself.”
    Oh, God, had he spoken aloud? He stared at her in horror, waiting for a blow that never came. Instead, “Calm yourself and listen, pet. Your brother has been . . . trying for me. And I wonder if I should have just killed him, as I’d initially planned. He’s not exactly easy to market, since my clientele are hardly the target audience for such a product.
    However, I think there’s . . . a loveliness to him that you bring out. A hidden value. But I also know that as surely as you could elevate him, he could drag you down. Make even you undesirable. Taint you with his presence, or his influence, or both. It’s a gamble, and you are a very, very costly wager.”
    She plucked another fudge square off her plate and nibbled thoughtfully at one corner. He couldn’t help it; he followed it with his eyes, though God knew how he could be thinking about food when Madame was so casually talking about taking from him the last thing he had. Taking from Mat, too —taking them from each other. Just one more way this place had warped him.
“Please, Madame . . .” He ducked his head, wished he knew the right thing to do here to make her listen, make her receptive to his pleas, make her not hurt them like this. He couldn’t just suck her cock, after all; even if she had one, he didn’t think she’d want that. He pressed his forehead to the ground before her feet, instead, stayed there, prostrate and begging. “Please, tell me what I have to do, Madame. Tell me how to make this right, how to—” Money, she’d talked 42
    about money. “How to make your clients want me. Want Mat. Want us. Together.”
    Silence, long and terrible. He didn’t dare look up, though it tore at him, not being able to read her face. “I suppose you could begin by promising to do everything the auctioneer says. Follow his every instruction, even if it means giving a sample suck to twenty prospective buyers.”
    “I promise,” he said before he’d even processed what she’d said. “Yes, Madame. I promise.” But then he ran her words back in his head. Twenty cocks shooting down his throat? He’d puke.
    And then he’d lick that puke up off the floor again if it meant he’d get to stay with Mat.
    “All well and good, pet, but not good enough. ” Her fingers carded through his hair as his breath froze in
    his throat. What else could he promise? He had nothing left to give but his obedience.
    “You must ensure your brother’s compliance as well.” He couldn’t breathe again. Couldn’t breathe and he was
    going to be sick, he was going to die right here on this floor because how could he, how could he possibly promise something like that when he knew Mat, when even she had to know