He cheated i chose two firefighters novel Chapter 60

Chapter 60

Jace’s POV

Menus

I was itching to see our girl under those lights. Milo and I didn’t come to this club much; it was a revolving door of Littles hunting for Doms, and Doms shopping for Littles. That whole scene wasn’t

really us.

Yeah, on the rare night I might like being called Daddy, but not as somebody’s full–time thing- especially not by someone I’m fucking. And I’m not interested in taking on an adult who wants to be treated like a kid. Hard pass.

Plenty of the women were stunning, but the innocence cosplay–the babyish vibe–killed it for me. Half the room ate it up, though. The men especially. Something about it made them lose their damn minds.

When the announcer teased that he had a special treat, my attention snapped forward. Milo’s eyes lit

the same way.

“This is her, isn’t it?” he murmured.

“Has to be.”

Then the spiel got darker–hunted, used, abused–and Milo frowned like he didn’t want to believe it.

“That can’t be her,” he said, uneasy.

The second Scarlett’s name hit the air, my cock had gone instantly rigid. Milo sucked in a breath

beside me.

“Holy fuck,” he rasped. “Jace, look at her. All that white, those ruffled socks–she looks so sweet it’s

disgusting.”

He was adjusting himself as he spoke. I scanned the crowd and swallowed; the room was packed

with hungry faces.

I focused back on our girl. Her nipples were obvious through the fabric–dark, and yeah, she was braless. Heat rolled through me, and precum slicked my tip. I reached for Milo’s hand, pulled it over,

and pressed it to my dick.

He squeezed. I gave a low, helpless sound.

Across the room, a few Littles sat on their Daddies‘ laps, getting stroked like pets. Those guys weren’t here for devotion. They were here to buy a fantasy for an hour.

I popped open my slacks and freed my cock.

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“Get me off, Milo.”

Milo bent in and took me into his mouth. My breath hitched hard. He bobbed just long enough to tease me, then pulled away–because the bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

His hand replaced his mouth, working me with a brutal, confident grip. He squeezed, rough and sure, twisting as he stroked. His callused palm felt nothing like Scarlett’s softer touch, and that difference made my stomach clench.

Onstage, the bids climbed. I started lifting my hips into his hand, chasing it. The second a tear slid down Scarlett’s cheek, the room erupted.

That did it.

I broke with a harsh groan, grabbed a cocktail napkin off the table, and caught my release as my cum pulsed out in thick spurts into my covered hand.

“Fuck,” I breathed, shaking. “I needed that–just to take the edge off. Listen to them, Milo. They’re losing it.”

“I know,” he said, voice tight. “It’s already at two–fifty.”

“You bid yet?”

“No. I’m waiting for the wave to slow.”

I watched Scarlett. “She looks unreal. She’s working them.”

Milo’s gaze narrowed. “Are you sure she’s working them? She looks terrified.”

She did. Another tear slipped free. She shut her eyes like she was praying, lips barely moving.

“Bid,” I told Milo. “And make it loud. Let her hear you.”

He stood into it.

“Three hundred and fifty thousand for the beautiful princess!”

Scarlett’s

eyes

flew open. Hope flared across her face like someone had turned on a lamp inside her.

Then a voice cut in from somewhere backstage.

“Five hundred thousand.”

The room sucked in a collective breath. Scarlett went rigid, eyes huge, and her mouth shaped a name

like she couldn’t stop it.

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Daxter?

Who the fuck was Daxter?

“Five fifty!” Milo shouted back. “Who the fuck is bidding from the back?”

Oh Mana

“I don’t know,” I said, watching Scarlett’s color drain. “But I don’t like it. Look at her–she’s in shock.”

The auction thinned until it was only Milo and that unseen voice trading numbers like gunshots.

“Six hundred thousand.”

And then the bidder appeared.

A man stepped out from backstage onto the platform, moving like he already owned her. He headed straight for Scarlett as if he planned to grab her the second the gavel fell.

Tall. Built. Almost bald, his dark hair clipped close. And those eyes–bright blue, burning with hunger as he looked her over.

He bent and helped her stand. Scarlett snapped her head toward him, fear written plain across her face. He smiled anyway and mouthed something at her–something like: it’s fine, my friends and I will take real good care of you.

Not a chance.

“End this shit,” I snarled, half rising.

Milo didn’t hesitate.

“One million!” he thundered.

The crowd erupted in gasps. The guy onstage froze, mouth hanging open.

Good.

“One million,” the announcer called, breathless. “Going once… going twice… sold to number thirteen in

the back!”

The man onstage unclasped Scarlett’s restraints, caught her hand, and started dragging her toward

the curtains.

I was already moving.

I left my seat, told Milo to handle the tab, and cut for backstage.

I reached the corridor just as the guy leaned in close, voice pitched like concern.

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“You gonna be okay?” he said. “I’d hate to see a sweet thing like you get hurt.”

Scarlett’s voice came steady, but her posture was tight. “I’m okay, Daxter. Thank you.”

He looked genuinely put out. “I didn’t get you, little one. I would’ve treated you real good.”

She blushed.

I hated that.

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