by EM BROWN
“This isn’t your first massage,” she murmured.
He didn’t say anything, just pulled her to him till she rested against him with her head upon his chest.
Stop it now before it’s too late, a voice inside her warned. Just because he’s nicer than Jake doesn’t mean he’s safe to be with.
His fingers dipped into her shirt to work her upper back. His touch was firm, the perfect amount of pressure. Beneath her, she felt the rise and fall of his chest, heard the sound of his heart beating.
I’m supposed to be working on a story, not succumbing to one of the subjects!
The massage went on for a while, but she wasn’t stupid. This wasn’t a massage for the sake of a massage. This was a massage that was going to lead to sex.
And it was a long way down from the edge of the cliff.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ben breathed in the coconut and almond scent from the shampoo she had used. She smelled good. Clean and refreshing. Not like Lisa and Ryan, who had drenched themselves in floral perfume.
She felt good, too. He liked her sturdy frame, which suggested she wouldn’t break into pieces if he fucked too hard. His jeans had become tight over his wood, but he didn’t do more than massage her shoulders and neck. Off in the back corner of the patio, Derek and Ryan were getting louder.
“Nice titties,” Derek was saying.
Ben had seen Kimani’s baps when Jake had her completely naked, and all the things he could do with her dark and beautiful nipples flashed through his mind.
“About tonight...” Kimani started.
“Shh. Don’t fret about what’s to come, just stay in the moment,” he said. He sensed she wasn’t as wary of him as she had been before, but she wasn’t completely at ease. He didn’t understand why she was so hesitant. Surely she knew the expectations of participating in the Scarlet Auction.
He continued to rub her back and shoulders as if she were a child in need of soothing. It wasn’t easy when he wanted to rip off her clothes and go to town on her body.
“What kinds of things turn you on?” he asked. Conversation would distract him from focusing on the way her ass curved into him.
“I should probably tell you, I’ve never done anything like the Scarlet Auction. This may take some getting used to.”
“We’re just making conversation. I want to know what things turn you on.”
She was quiet at first before answering, “Lots of different things.”
“Like what?”
“Like...sexy lingerie, good foreplay...Idris Elba...”
Shit. How was he going to top Idris Elba? At least she wasn’t entirely immune to Benjamin Dmitri Lee. He had sensed it. Her breath had stopped when he’d told her he wanted to fuck her. Maybe it was shock, but there wasn’t just fear in her eyes. There was interest. And arousal.
“What do you imagine doing with Idris Elba?”
“I don’t have any specific fantasies. He’s an engaged man.”
“If he wasn’t, what would you want him to do to you?”
“Anything.” She turned the question on him. “What turns you on?”
“When I was younger, I had a crush on the actress Gong Li.”
At the moment, you are what turns me on. The vision of you tied to the bed, naked, screaming out my name. You tied in strappado with my cock banging you from behind.
“What’s the best orgasm you’ve ever had?” he asked before his imagination made his erection too painful.
“My first time with a vibrator. I had no idea they could be so...powerful.”
“How about recently?”
“I love the combination of my Hitachi and a pair of Ben Wa balls.”
He stored that bit of information away.
“Your best experiences have been with a vibrator, not a guy,” he noted.
“Hate to break it to you,” she murmured, “but that’s the case with a lot of women.”
“Well, that’s about to change. For you, anyway.”
She stiffened slightly. “You think you’re all that?”
It was said with a nervous laugh.
“I do.”
“How do you know your confidence isn’t misplaced?”
“Experience.”
“Most women won’t offer up complaints because they don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”
“The women I’ve fucked come back for more.”
“Sure they do, especially when you pay them.”
“You’re the only one I’ve ever paid for.”
She cleared her throat. “These experiences of yours, are they a good sample size?”
“You want stats? I haven’t run a regression analysis, but practice makes perfect. And I’ve had a lot of practice.”
“So you’re slutty as well as cocky?”
“What is it with black women and sass?”
“Hey, that’s a stereotype, a trope perpetuated by the media.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I like your sass. It makes me want to fuck you more.”
Her body squirmed. In an instant, his pants became a painful cage. He resorted to talking again.
“If I was going to see any action at Howard, I had to be good. You know what they say about black men: they’re better hung and better lovers. How was I going to compete with that? I had to up my game, and practice was the way to do it.”
One of the few things going for him as a freshman at Howard was the ratio of women to men. Women outnumbered men nearly two to one.
“Yeah?” she challenged. “If you’ve had all that practice, you should have discovered that everyone is different. What works for one woman won’t necessarily work for another.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll find out everything that works for you.”
Her breath had become uneven. They could both hear Ryan and Derek grunting. She gasped when he shifted her so that she lay on her back instead of her side. Her arse was now fully pressed against his pelvis. Reaching around her, he cupped a breast. He caressed the contour of the delicious orb. She gasped loudly when he passed over her nipple.
“Sensitive?”
He passed his hand back over the nipple, making her gasp again. The bud hardened beneath the shirt.
“Let’s start with your baps.”
“My what?”
“Your tits.” He began kneading the flesh. “Do you like that?”
“Umm...”
He watched the heaving of her bosom. Heat roiled in his balls. She yelped when he tugged her nipple lightly. It was going to be fun playing with these.
Her arousal now permeated the air about them, and he dared to lower his hand to cup her mound. She breathed in sharply but made no protest. He rubbed her through the sweatpants and was satisfied to feel dampness seeping through the fabric. With his free hand, he played with her other breast while the hand below continued to grope her.
“I shouldn’t...”
It was a strange thing to say for a woman who had agreed to sell her body for money. He rubbed the fabric into her folds, making sure it grazed her clit. She released a soft moan.
“Oh, you’re such a good fucking slut,” Derek grunted while Ryan alternated between gasping and groaning.
“Really, we should...” Kimani tried.
He knew she was waging a losing battle. The natural desires of her body were going to overwhelm rational thinking. The more he stroked, the wetter she got.
Derek emitted a howl, evidence he had reached his climax. When it became quiet in that area of the patio, Ben almost wished Derek hadn’t finished yet. For once, Derek’s presence actually added something. Ben heard the sound of a lighter, then smelled the weed.
Several minutes later, Kimani began to writhe and tense in earnest. Tension tightened his groin. Her trembles made his blood boil. He made sure to slide his digits along the length of her clitoris. She whimpered, music to his ears. Her writhing grew bolder as she neared her climax.
“Oh, Jesus,” she whispered, right before she came, gyrating all over his body.
He lightened but didn’t stop his caresses, not until he had wrung the last of the spasms from her. Though his cock was harder than flint, he remained where he was. He had her where he wanted her. And he wasn’t done.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Just as Kimani had feared, she had stumbled off the cliff. But how far down would she fall before she splattered on rock bottom?
She lay atop him, breathing deeply, her body tingling. A blissful warmth had flooded her and she didn’t want to move, didn’t want to think about any consequences that would follow. She had allowed a subject in her story to masturbate her. And now that she had come, what was he going to expect in return? She could feel his hard-on pressing against her rump.
He slid his hand into the sweatpants. The flesh-on-flesh contact startled her, but he secured her with his other arm. His fingers combed through her pubic hair till they reached the wet flesh below. Was he getting her ready to have sex with him? Maybe there was a chance to pull herself back onto the cliff? They had messed around, but she hadn’t slept with him yet. Maybe he would be content with a hand job?
His fingers slid against the side of her clit, making her shiver. He found a spot that was still receptive to his touch. Very receptive.
Come on, Kimani, get it together.
Maybe this was what came of not having had sex in a while. A vibrator wasn’t the same. There was something scintillating about human touch—especially his touch. Unlike a lot of men, Ben took his time. He explored the terrain of her clitoris, hitting the spots that made her moan. Occasionally his fingers would graze her slit, and she found the possibility that he might enter her exciting.
This is wrong, Kimani.
And that probably only made it more titillating. As she warred with herself, his other hand fondled a breast. She was trapped against him, his hands working her erogenous zones. When he curled the tips of his digits into her pussy, she lifted her hips to meet him. Wetness gushed from her like she was a horny teenager.
Slowly, he sank his fingers farther into her wet heat. She let out a shaky breath when he withdrew his fingers.
Dammit. What should I do?
Once more, he delved into her, telling her what she should do is sit back and enjoy the ride. He stroked her insides and caressed nerves that made her cry out, almost laugh at the exquisiteness. Sometimes her Ben Wa balls would hit that area, but his fingers were constant, relentless. His other hand squeezed and manhandled her breast. She yelped when he pinched the nipple. Lust filled her head. She couldn’t process all the sensations assaulting her. The hand between her legs was the dominant contributor to her frenzy. She gripped the arms of the chair as if her life depended on it.
“Oh, Jesus,” she muttered through clenched teeth.
Her body didn’t know whether to squirm or stay still, relax or tense, contract away or press into his hand. She wanted the impending orgasm, but she was worried, too. What if she couldn’t handle it? What if...
His hand covered the whole of her breast. She cried out when he tugged her nipple harder while his other hand worked her tirelessly. Fingers curled inside her. Palm pressed to her clit.
Jesus. Now she felt like she needed to pee. Her knuckles turned white as she resisted the urge.
“Give in,” he encouraged. “Your body wants to come.”
The tension inside her had reached such heights that it would take hours to calm back down. The quickest way to relief was through explosion, but could she handle the force of it? What if she lost control of her body and pissed all over herself?
Must resist.
“Come for me, Kimani.”
His words, perhaps the sound of her name, was the lever that unleashed the dam. Several gasping cries tore from her as her body bucked uncontrollably against him. He pulled his fingers out.
“Oh, fuuuuck,” she sobbed as wetness gushed from her.
He plunged his fingers back in and caused another eruption to wave through her. He pulled out again, releasing another spray. As she feared, she had lost control of her body. But it was worth it, worth the euphoria that drowned her.
She lost track of how many times his fingers entered her. Her body quaked from the intensity. She couldn’t catch a calm breath. The area between her legs wasn’t just wet, it was sodden.
As he withdrew, his fingers grazed her clitoris, and she nearly shivered out of her skin. Control of her body lay in pieces about her. She stared into nothingness, feeling like a complete mess, a fucking amazing mess.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
She was so unbelievably hot when she came, Ben thought to himself. He’d finger fuck her again if he thought her up to it. His cock was screaming for release, to sink itself into her super-wet furnace. It was going to feel like a piece of heaven when he did.
“I—I messed up your sweats,” she whispered when she had recovered enough to talk. “I don’t know what happened—I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t know what happened?” he echoed, perplexed. “Is this your first time squirting?”
“Oh...”
It was. Ben smiled. Well, well...
“You should drink something, stay hydrated,” he suggested, sitting her up.
“Okay.”
She seemed surprised when he got up. He adjusted himself, though it did little to diminish the discomfort of his erection. He wanted to fuck her so badly, but that wasn’t part of his plan. Yet.
As he went to get her a glass of water, he noticed Derek was in a drugged stupor, Jason and Lisa were lying in post-coital embrace on the sofa, and Jake had lit a cigarette. From the looks of contentment on their faces, it was obvious all three guys had come. Ben helped himself to a shot of vodka to take the edge off the tension in his body, since he couldn’t jack off right away and Bataar wasn’t around to spar with. He walked back to the lounge chair where Kimani was sitting.
“Thanks,” she said when he handed her a glass of water. She drank it down and seemed to be waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t, she asked, “So, um, what’s next?”
“What do you want to happen next?”
She was taken aback. “I get to decide?”
“For tonight. We can step into our appropriate roles tomorrow.”
“So you don’t...need anything?”
“Are you offering?”
She looked down, and he knew her answer. It didn’t bother him that she wasn’t ready for more. There was time.
“How did you know my name?” she asked.
“You got a text.”
He pulled out his phone and showed the message that had come in just before Jake had grabbed her by the ear. The message read:
Kimani, this is Sam. Are you doing okay?
“Is Sam your boyfriend?” he asked.
“No, he’s my—” She stopped herself before she revealed who Sam was. “I mean, she. Sam is short for Samantha. She knows I did the Scarlet Auction and is just checking in. Do you mind if I call her back?”
She was lying. Or at least not being completely truthful. Maybe Sam wasn’t just a boyfriend. Maybe Sam was a husband. Or if Sam was a “she,” the woman had to be more than just a friend checking in.
“Go ahead.”
She got up. “I’ll just—I have to go to the bathroom.”
Shortly after she left, Jake walked over.
“So, what’s black putang like?” he asked.
“Pussy is pussy,” Ben replied. “It’s always sweet.”
“I don’t know about that. Some are downright nasty and stink like shit. But virgin pussy is always fresh. All that blood makes things nice and slick, too.”
“You do your part right, you shouldn’t need blood for lubrication.”
“Yeah, but it’s so erotic to see them coated in blood and shit.”
Ben didn’t bother asking what the “and shit” entailed. Instead, he asked, “So what happens after you pop their cherry? They won’t necessarily bleed again for you, unless it’s that time of month.”
“Which is
totally gross and not the same. Another reason the Scarlet Auction is so awesome. You don’t have to worry about getting a menstruating girl. That shit’s disgusting.”
The conversation had reached the end of Ben’s patience, but he had to ask one last question. “How’s Claire doing?”
“You mean Slut #1. She’s doing great. She had two dinners, you know what I mean?”
Ben turned, ready to head inside.
“How’s yours?” Jake asked. “She good at sucking dick? I bet black women are good at it. They got those naturally big lips.”
Ben’s right hand curled into a fist. “You set up that meeting with Tyrell yet?”
“Yeah, he’s around next week if you’re able to fly down to LA. What day is good for you?”
He remembered Kimani had his phone, so he couldn’t check his calendar. “I’ll get back to you.”
He found the bathroom and was about to knock on the door when he heard Kimani. She was still on the phone.
“No, don’t call or text me,” she was saying, “not on this phone. It’s not mine... It belongs to a guy named Ben. I don’t know his full name, but I know he’s involved with Chinese basketball, and he graduated from Howard University and the Stanford business school. There can’t be that many Asians who went to Howard, then Stanford. Well, he’s only part Asian—I’m guessing Chinese. He looks a little mixed, like Eurasian. He’s working on some deal with this guy named Jake. I’m pretty sure that’s his real name, or at least a nickname. He’s some kind of sports agent. They talked about a basketball player named Tyrell Jenkins... Okay, you can let me know what you find when I call tomorrow.”
Seconds later the bathroom door opened.
“Came to see how you were doing,” he explained when his presence startled her.
“I’m good. About your sweats...I’ll wash them or buy you a new pair.”
He didn’t tell her that the sweatpants she wore from Berluti sold for well over nine hundred dollars. “Don’t worry about it.”
Eying the wet stains on the sweats, he thought through his clothes. He didn’t have anything else that wouldn’t fall right off her hips, but the shirt she wore was long enough to cover her arse.