by EM BROWN
Kim wondered if vanilla sex would prove too plain for her now. Would she need to search for future partners at places like The Lair? Would she find someone who could take her to the heights Ben had? Would she ever squirt again?
Feeling her carnal cravings begin to stir, she turned her mind to Gordon’s campaign. What else could she do for him? She could walk all of Havenscourt herself, but she could tell that a number of the people she had spoken to were disinterested and a lot of the doorhangers she had passed out would probably end up in the trash.
“I don’t vote anymore,” one voter had said. “It hasn’t changed a damn thing for me or the neighborhood. Just look at that basketball court there. It hasn’t been fixed up in years. I’m not even sure it’s safe for the kids to play on it.”
“You want me to vote for a Chinese guy? What’s he going to do for our community?” asked another.
“I’m a Republican, so my vote doesn’t matter since a Republican hasn’t won in Oakland since...probably since before I was born!”
“I understand where you’re coming from,” Kimani had said to the first apathetic voter. “This community has so many needs that haven’t been addressed. But if you don’t vote, for sure things will just stay the same.”
She thought about the basketball court in the center of the neighborhood and how it was just one of many things that could benefit from attention, but she understood that government resources, even in a city where voters were not adverse to raising taxes, were far short of what was needed.
Kimani sat up. Maybe she could organize an event to draw attention to the dilapidated basketball court. And if she could involve Gordon’s campaign, he’d get visibility, too—a win-win.
The more she dwelled on her idea, the more excited she became. The campaign could register voters at the event. Maybe it could even raise funds to at least fix the holes in the fence and put actual nets on the hoop.
She couldn’t wait to pitch her idea to Gordon. He might say that he doesn’t have the time or staff to dedicate to such an event, but she would offer to organize it. She could get her parents, Keisha, and other folks she knew to help out.
The biggest potential challenge she faced was getting past Ben.
Chapter Nine
Pissed that Kimani had gotten away from him, and that she had defied his directive not to walk East Oakland, Ben took his frustrations out on the precinct captain back inside the headquarters.
“You let a young woman walk Havenscourt alone?” he barked at Anthony, wanting to fire the guy for having such a winning smile.
“I offered to go with her,” Anthony replied. “Should I go get her?”
Imagining the young man getting chummy with Kimani, Ben replied, “No. But don’t let her do it again.”
Anthony nodded. “Got it.”
Ben turned around and blew out a breath. Bill was supposed to be on Kimani, so she wasn’t really alone. Still...
“Who was she?” Eumie tried again, trying not to appear too curious.
“A campaign volunteer,” Ben replied as he texted Bataar to confirm that Bill was watching Kimani.
Eumie swirled the ice in her drink. “It looked like she was more than just a volunteer. It looked like you had some history with her.”
After receiving confirmation from Bataar, Ben looked up from his mobile at Eumie. “You could say that.”
“That’s it? You’re just going to leave it at that?”
“Yes, I am.”
She pouted but didn’t back down. “Was your history a dating history?”
He couldn’t help a rueful laugh. “Hardly.”
Her brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Then what was it?”
“I’m not interested in talking about it.”
While he would have tolerated some pushback from May, he would put Eumie back on a plane to China within minutes if she persisted.
Getting the message, she muttered, “Must have been some history.”
Ben regretted allowing Eumie to accompany him to California. At least May hadn’t pushed to come along. She wouldn’t have lasted five minutes with Eumie.
“I didn’t know you were interested in her kind. Was it because you went to Harvard?” Eumie asked.
“Howard. It was Howard University.” He looked at the time on his mobile. “I’m meeting a property owner in Chinatown for dim sum. I can have Bataar drop you off at Union Square.”
Eumie’s activity of choice in any metropolitan area was shopping. She rarely did the tourist attractions, had no interest in museums, and refused to walk anywhere she couldn’t wear her four-inch heels.
“Thanks,” she said. “Aunt Alice offered to give me a ride, but I think she drives a Honda Accord. The Porsche is a much better ride.”
Ben turned to head outside.
Eumie finished her sugary beverage of milk tea and boba. “Should we meet for dinner? You think you could get a table at Ishikawa West?”
He froze, remembering how hot Kimani had looked the night he’d taken her to the Michelin-star restaurant. He remembered making her sit on his lap while the servers cleared the table because she had complained about appearing like a couple having an argument. He remembered the punishment afterward when—
“You have to book six weeks in advance,” he abruptly said to Eumie before his mind went too far down memory lane.
“Yes, but I know you can pull strings.” She ran a finger down his arm. “Come on.”
“I don’t feel like Japanese. We can pick up noodles and have dinner back at my place.”
Eumie wrinkled her nose. “I can get noodles back home.”
“And you had plenty of sushi and kaiseki in Tokyo.”
She sighed. “Fine, but let’s at least order something fancier than noodles.”
Her statement reminded him of how impressed Kimani had been by the hole-in-the-wall noodle house he had taken her to their first night in San Francisco.
After Eumie was seated in the Porsche, Bataar closed her door and pulled Ben aside. “Given what Jake might be up to, I should be covering you, not chauffeuring Miss Ma.”
“Jake doesn’t have the guts or wherewithal to do anything to me. And you’re just dropping her off. Wong can pick her up,” Ben replied. Wong was his driver.
Bataar continued to frown.
“This isn’t Hong Kong,” Ben said, “and my meeting is in Oakland Chinatown. Nothing’s going to happen.”
“All right, boss, as long as I don’t have to stay with Miss Ma—not that I wouldn’t mind watching her ass all day—”
Ben snorted. “I’m sure you wouldn’t.”
“But you’re my priority.”
“Kimani’s your priority,” Ben reminded him. “I want to know she made it back safely.”
Bataar nodded before getting into the car behind the wheel. Eumie waved at Ben from the passenger side.
After they drove away, Ben contemplated going into Havenscourt himself. She shouldn’t be anywhere near Uncle Gordon or his campaign...but he believed her. He could see the contrition in her eyes.
But he had trusted her before. And got burned for it. With Uncle Gordon paying the price.
To be safe, he should pull her out of East Oakland and slap a restraining order on her. He recalled Uncle Gordon saying something about a profile the Tribune was doing. What the hell was that all about?
He wanted to ask her about that, but did he really want to come within ten feet of her again? Like a shark scenting blood, his arousal had perked the instant he’d caught a whiff of her. No perfume, just the faint fragrance of her soap or body wash. And all her.
When he had caught her wrist, he had managed to yank her just short of him. But what he’d really wanted was to feel her body crashing into his. He wanted to slam her against the car, maul her, grope her, kiss her till she cried.
Fuck.
How was it his reaction to her seemed even stronger now than before?
Tension coiled inside his body, and sex with Eumie wasn’t going t
o be enough to relieve him. He hoped Bataar was up for a beating, or maybe Bataar would be open to beating the shit out of him. Then maybe, just maybe, he might find relief.
“WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?” Eumie asked when she entered Ben’s place in Pacific Heights to find him sitting on the sofa with an icepack to the side of his head.
“Nothing,” Ben replied. “Bataar and I had a vigorous sparring match.”
When they sparred, both men held back as it wasn’t necessary or advisable to go all out. But this time, Ben had wanted Bataar to go hard. He’d had to bait Bataar to do it.
“Don’t you hate watching me fuck all these women without being able to join in on the fun?” Ben had asked when deriding the Mongolian’s kicks as “weak-assed” and his right hooks as “pussy punches” hadn’t worked.
Bataar had grinned. “Think of me as a parent living vicariously through his son’s sports accomplishments.”
“You’re not resentful that you don’t even get sloppy seconds?”
“That was never listed as a job perk,” Bataar had returned after dodging a roundhouse kick.
Referring to Bataar’s mother hadn’t worked, either. No matter how aggressive Ben had gotten with his strikes and kicks, Bataar had refused to engage his full strength. He would allow himself to get beaten black and blue before taking out his boss.
However, Ben had managed to find a weak spot.
“That niece of yours is almost eighteen now, right?” Ben had said. “You think she might ever be open to BDSM? I’d—”
And that was all it had taken for Bataar to knock Ben on his arse. He knew Ben never played with jailbait or anyone close to that age, but he had obviously wanted to get the right message across just in case.
“You know I don’t mess with women that young,” Ben had affirmed to Bataar as they sat on the gym mats afterward, both of them bruised and sweating. “They’re still too innocent.”
“Even if my niece were sixty years old, I wouldn’t want you touching her,” Bataar had answered between hard breaths.
Ben remembered warning Kimani that he wouldn’t trust his own sisters to someone like himself. But Kimani had stayed anyway, even though she had been given the chance to walk away. At the time, his emotions had swelled, thinking that she had chosen to be with him despite whatever reservations she’d had. Turned out she had simply chosen to continue her charade so she could get her scoop for the Tribune.
But she couldn’t fake her orgasms that well. She couldn’t fake squirting. So while her job and the paper might have been her prime motivators, she wasn’t immune to him. He had sensed it still today outside the campaign headquarters. The current between them flowed both ways.
“I’m starving,” Eumie pronounced, setting down her shopping bags from Neiman Marcus and Burberry. “Did you pick up food?”
“I’m taking you out for dinner,” he replied. Initially, he had opted for takeout so that he and Eumie could get to the sex sooner rather than later. Dinners with Eumie weren’t that interesting. They would each end up spending most of the time on their respective mobile devices.
At the moment, however, he wasn’t that interested in sex with Eumie.
Eumie brightened. “Oh, good. Where?”
“Come up with your top favorites, and Beth will try to get a reservation at one of them.”
He picked up his land line and dialed his personal assistant, giving her instructions before handing the phone to Eumie.
“There’s so many to choose from,” Eumie said. “Do I feel like fusion or French or Californian? We are in California, after all.”
While Eumie prattled aloud, Ben texted Bataar:
Where’s my update on Kimani?
Half a minute later, he received his answer:
She just arrived home.
Ben glanced at the time on his mobile, got up and decided to call Bataar from his room.
“She’s getting home late,” Ben said to Bataar, tossing aside his ice pack.
“Teenagers stay out later than this, boss.”
“Where was she?”
“Doing her precinct walking.”
Ben felt his entire body tense. “Are you fucking with me? She was out walking Havenscourt at this hour?”
That Anthony kid was about to lose his job as a precinct captain.
“I switched out Bill for Moe, given where she was spending her time. She’s fine. There were no incidents. Bill’s going to watch her the rest of the night.”
“Didn’t she return to the campaign headquarters for lunch?”
“She stopped at a hot dog stand for her lunch and kept on going.”
A part of Ben was disappointed that he didn’t have an excuse to fire Anthony, even though he really wasn’t in a position to fire staff that wasn’t his. But he doubted his uncle would stop him.
“She walked Havenscourt the whole day?” Ben asked.
“If anything suspicious happens, I’ll let you know.”
“I want a daily report.”
“I’ll confirm when she’s safely tucked in bed every night.”
Ben didn’t feel satisfied, however. He didn’t want her walking Havenscourt or any part of East Oakland again, but he wasn’t her fucking dad.
Eumie walked in at that moment. “Beth got us a reservation, but it’s not for another hour, so we have time...”
She wrapped her arms around his waist.
“I have some things to take care of before dinner,” he told her.
She appeared startled. He doubted few men ever passed on an opportunity to bed her.
“Like what?” she asked.
“You really want to go into it?”
She pressed herself closer to him. “Oh, you mean boring stuff. And you’re choosing to do that over...”
“‘Boring stuff’ still needs to get done.”
She tilted her head to one side as she studied him. “You’re not like the Ben I knew. The old Ben always found time to fit in a quickie, though I love that your quickies are longer than what most guys would call a full session.”
Her hand drifted to his crotch. He caught her by the wrist.
“I’m not in the mood, Eumie.”
“Men are always in the mood,” she retorted.
He saw that she wasn’t going to relent anytime soon. It was a matter of pride more than pleasure right now. It would be a large blow to her ego if she couldn’t successfully seduce him.
“After dinner,” he offered, wanting to check in with Stephens. Earlier, he had asked him to dig up what he could about the article the Tribune was doing on Uncle Gordon. Halting the paper would be easier, and the attorney who’d handled the acquisition had said there would be no problems in doing so.
“You want to pay a bunch of journalists to do nothing, that’s your prerogative. Their guild can’t complain you didn’t give them proper notice since they’re technically still on payroll,” the attorney had said.
Uncle Gordon, who believed Kimani and the Tribune had only honorable intentions, might be disappointed, but it was better to err on the side of caution. They had already been burned. There was no reason to keep the paper going.
Except that Ben was sure Kimani enjoyed her job. She would probably work for free if she could.
“Can’t your boring stuff wait?” Eumie persisted.
She had a point. It could wait. He didn’t want to wait, but maybe he should just do Eumie right now so she would stop pestering him.
Still holding her by the wrist, he yanked her body around. She yelped as she collided into him. He tossed his mobile onto the bed. A brief smile of triumph brightened her expression before he caught her by the back of her neck with his other hand and crushed his mouth atop hers.
“You sure you want this?” he murmured over her lips. “You might regret it.”
She returned a quizzical look, but he wasn’t going to explain himself. She had a chance to back out. When she didn’t say anything, he grabbed her arse through her skin-tight leggings and ground his
burgeoning erection against her.
“Now this is the Ben I know,” she purred.
He moved his hand to her jaw, cupping her tightly. Her eyes widened in alarm.
“We do this quickie my way.”
“It’s always your way, Benji,” she murmured through his grip squishing her cheeks together.
Letting her go, he pulled her top over her head and just down past her shoulders, letting the form-fitting garment imprison her arms. He eyed the breasts protruding from her pink lace push-up bra. He palmed one of them, grazing his thumb over the nipple. With her new boob job, she didn’t need to wear a push-up bra, but she probably figured more cleavage was always better than less. He pushed the bra up over her breasts, then squeezed both of the freed orbs. She closed her eyes and moaned as he fondled her.
Her eyes flew open when he pinched a nipple hard.
She needed to learn not to mess with him. He knew by ravishing her, he was proving her point that men could always be put in the mood for sex, but she was going to rethink her persistence next time.
He pinched the other nipple, making her cry out.
He pushed her down to her knees and pulled down his sweats. Eumie wasn’t keen on giving blow jobs, but he presented his stiffened cock. When she stared at it reluctantly, he gave her a light slap on the cheek. She opened her mouth...and gagged the instant his cock grazed her tongue.
“I see your Hollywood boyfriend didn’t train you well,” he said.
She glared at him. “I have a sensitive throat. You know that. And he wasn’t into this kind of stuff.”
What kind of wuss wasn’t into blow jobs? No matter.
“We can make up for that,” he told her.
She wrinkled her nose, which he pinched shut to get her to open her mouth. He didn’t push himself in the way he had that day at Jake’s cabin, when the four women were all giving head to see who could get their man off first. Jason had come first, but Ryan had been deemed the winner because Lisa hadn’t swallowed every last drop of Jason’s cum.