Auctioned By The Ceo novel Chapter 9

Hannah’s heart just about stopped at Logan’s reaction to her whispered reply. One minute she was an active participant in this frantic exploration of each other, the next, he’d flung her over his shoulder like a sack of spuds. The breath whooshed out of her lungs, not that she would have managed to utter a protest anyway, because the slap to her ass robbed her of the ability to do anything but squeak.

“Ow.”

The shoulder she was flung over moved as though the dratted man was laughing at her, and two more swats landed on her butt as Logan started to walk out of the bathroom.

“Hardly, little girl, but I can make them hurt if you’d like me to. You’ve had this coming, so take your punishment like a good little girl, and I may just reward you.”

Two more quick swats followed, which left her butt on fire, and then—oh good grief, she was so going to combust—he slid his hand up her inner thigh and cupped her pussy. She barely suppressed a groan, and there was no way he would miss how embarrassingly wet his caveman treatment of her had made her.

“I’m not five.” There, that almost sounded convincing, even as her breath hitched anew, when he slid what felt like one finger under the elastic of her underwear. “You can’t do that. I … oh God…”

With unerring precision that calloused digit had found her clit, and her internal muscles clenched in response to the circular motion he subjected that bundle of nerves to.

“I’m very aware of that, little dove, but you are a very naughty girl, are you not? So wet for me already.”

Hannah bit her lip to stop herself from crying out and demanding he put his oh so talented fingers back to her sensitive flesh, when he withdrew them. A door opened and shut, and then she flew through the air onto the hugest and softest bed she ever had the fortune to be thrown onto. Then again, had she ever been manhandled like this? And perhaps most importantly, would she have let anyone else do this?

Logan moved her with such ease, as though she weighed no more than a feather. With such utter confidence, as though it was his God-given right to do so, and wasn’t that the biggest turn-on yet? Like the bad boys she liked to read about in her secret collection of romance novels—the ones no sane, liberated woman ought to want, yet couldn’t help but lust after—he seemed determined to take his pleasure.