by EM BROWN
Pulling out, he reached over and grabbed another wrapper from the candy bowl. This one contained a cock ring. After opening it, he slid the ring to the base of his shaft and turned it on. She craned her head to see the source of the vibrating sound.
“Oh my God,” she exhaled when he had plunged himself back in.
Burying himself to the hilt, he sandwiched the ring between them.
“That feels gooood...”
He thrust at an even pace, making sure to grind the cock ring against her.
“Oh, yes!” she cried. “Yes!”
Grabbing her hips with both hands, he increased the pace of his thrusts. Her words devolved into grunts and groans. And then she came undone, her pussy clenched and spasmed about his cock.
He hammered himself into her to achieve his own climax. It burst through him fast and furious, this time draining through him as pleasure electrified him from head to toe. He shoved himself hard into her and milked the last of his seed from his throbbing shaft.
He did not withdraw until his cock had become flaccid enough that the condom might slip off. But he wanted to stay inside her still. Maybe for forever.
And that wasn’t a good sentiment
Chapter Fifteen
“Jesus! I forgot about Marissa and Miguel!”
After Ben unbuckled the best that had bound her wrists, Kimani scrambled off the bed.
“I don’t think they’re too far,” Ben said, grabbing his clothes off the ground.
Her eyes widened. “You saw them? Why didn’t you tell me?”
It was a pointless question because what was done was done. Sheshimmied up her underwear and pants. Ugh. Nothing like having to pull up wet and squishy clothing.
She turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm.
“Kimani,” he’d said.
Unable to read the emotions in his eyes, she tore herself away. “I shouldn’t keep them waiting.”
Stumbling out of the Silk room, she found Marissa and Miguel sitting on a sofa down the hallway.
“Where were you guys?” she asked.
“Well, we did look in on you,” Marissa replied, getting to her feet, “but you were kind of busy.”
Kimani flushed to the roots of her hair. In truth, she had forgotten about Marissa and Miguel.
Marissa leaned in and lowered her voice. “Hey, he was totally hot. I’d jump him, too.”
After they said goodbye to Miguel and were in the backseat of a taxi headed home, Marissa pounced. “So, who was he?”
It was the question Kimani dreaded. Looking out the window of the taxi, she drew in a breath. “A guy I met when I went undercover.”
“No shit! Did he bid on you at the Scarlet Auction?”
“He didn’t participate in the auction. Exactly.”
“Then how’d you meet him?”
“He was an acquaintance of a guy who did do the auction.”
“What’s his name?”
“Ben.”
“That’s all you’re going to give me? He must be loaded if he’s friends with people who can afford the Scarlet Auction. Maybe that’s why he gets to be a member of the Upper Balcony.”
Now that she had room to think about and regret what had happened between her and Ben, Kimani couldn’t resist feeling a little irritated. “And if he does have money, what does that matter?”
“Just saying. I mean, if he’s good-looking and rich, you totally scored.”
“There are plenty of good-looking, rich, and powerful men who are nothing but misogynists and criminals. And they get to get away with shit because of their looks, their wealth or their status in society.”
“I just assumed that your guy wasn’t one of those guys because Kimani Taylor doesn’t drop her pants for those guys. Am I right?”
Kimani sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get bitchy. He’s not my guy, you know. You should have seen the gorgeous woman he was with earlier today.”
“Wait, you saw him already today?”
“It was a chance encounter.”
“And he knew you were coming to The Lair?”
“He couldn’t have. I didn’t mention The Lair.”
“It’s quite the coincidence.”
Kimani shrugged. Sometimes life was stranger than fiction.
“So, he must have seen you from the Upper Balcony, and you’re the reason we got invited up there.”
“I guess.”
“He must really be into you.”
Kimani sat with the idea for a moment, wishing that what Marissa had said was true, then deciding it was better if it wasn’t. “I don’t think so. We had some unresolved issues. That’s what the, um, sex was about.”
“Hm. Guess that’s one to add to the list next to make-up sex and rebound sex: ‘unresolved-issues’ sex. Did you resolve your issues?”
At that, Kimani had to laugh. “No.”
We could have made them worse, she thought to herself.
“Does that mean you guys will have to have sex again?”
“No!”
Her vociferousness took Marissa by surprise. “Why not? If I had a guy like that, I’d try to resolve the issues over and over again. And then one or two more times just for good measure.”
“How much did you and Miguel witness?”
“Well, we saw you grab him and kiss him. Then we went exploring the rest of the Upper Balcony. We came across the Dungeon Room and checked out all the different implements they had. Then we came back, and I peeked in on you. There’s something about your guy—”
“You can call him Ben.”
“Right. There’s something about him, the way he moves, the way he was holding you and pounding you from behind that was, like, incredibly hot.”
Kimani blushed. “Then what did you and Miguel do?”
“We sat down and decided to wait for you to be done. We talked a lot.”
“Miguel seems like a really nice guy.”
“He is. There were a few times in the Dungeon Room when I could tell he was getting turned on and probably would’ve been open to doing something, but he didn’t say anything. It was like he knew I wasn’t ready, even though I never told anyone why I haven’t played in a while.”
“That’s cool.”
“He said we was planning to go to The Lair next Friday. I told him I might go then, too, depending on my work schedule.”
Kimani was able to turn the conversation toward the topic of Miguel, which Marissa seemed happy to talk about, and which used up the rest of the ride so there was no time to go back to talking about Ben. Once inside their home, Kimani professed to being really tired.
“I’ll bet you’re tired,” Marissa teased. “Maybe we should go back to The Lair together next Friday. Maybe your guy—I mean, Ben—will invite us up to the Upper Balcony again.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if I never hear from him again,” Kimani said.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I think he just needed to get his money’s worth, so to speak.”
“So he’s like a use-’em-then-leave-’em kind of guy?”
“I don’t think he’s relationship material.” But even as she said it, she wondered how true that was. She had been too quick to judge him before. “And even if he was, he wouldn’t be looking for a relationship with me.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Gut feeling.”
“Well, good thing you don’t need to be in a relationship to enjoy The Lair!”
Kimani smiled, briefly entertaining the idea that she and Ben could be BDSM partners. However, given the feelings she already had for Ben, keeping things to just sex would be easier said than done.
THOUGH RUNNING LATE, Kimani headed to the Tribune offices in relatively high spirits. She had met with Gordon and pitched her idea to do an event in East Oakland, and he had agreed to it. She could hardly wait to get started on organizing some three-on-three games to make the event more fun. It would take a lot of work to pull it off in just two weeks’ t
ime, but she was excited.
At her request, she and Gordon had met at a tea shop, away his from campaign headquarters so that she wouldn’t run into Ben. A part of her hoped she would never see him again. Given how raw and roughed up he had left her body, she wondered how she had even made it home. Thirty-six hours later, she was still faintly sore between the legs.
She wondered what he had intended to say to her just before she’d exited the Silk Room, and she wished she had stayed a minute longer to find out, but whatever it was, it couldn’t have been that important or he would have found a way to contact her. He knew she worked for the Tribune, but when she went to her desk, she saw that she had no new voicemails.
She went over to Sam’s office to talk about the possibility of Robin covering the event she was organizing for Gordon.
“We can cover it, but I’m afraid we won’t be able to print it,” he replied with a heavy sigh.
She did a double take. “Why not?”
Sam sighed again. “I just got a call from the lawyer representing the new owner. They’re shutting us down, effective immediately.”
“What?! Why?”
“He didn’t say. We’re going to get paid as if the paper was still up and running, but there won’t be a newspaper for tomorrow.”
She took a seat in front of Sam’s desk as she tried to process the information. “This doesn’t make much sense. What’s the urgency, especially if they’re keeping us on payroll?”
Sam shook his head, apparently equally as puzzled. “My guess is still that the new owners, New Western Media, is linked somehow to a rival news outlet, and they bought us to get rid of the competition even though our readership has been shrinking, and, the way things were going, we might have died a more natural death, so to speak.”
“So New Western Media is in some kind of hurry. Is there any way to talk to them?”
“Only through their attorney, Murray Jones. I tried to find out more information about New Western, but all I could dig up was their LLC filings with the Secretary of State. No owners listed, only the law firm of Jones and Finch, LLP, is listed as the agent of representation. The LLC is newly formed, probably for the sole purpose of acquiring the Tribune.”
“They won’t even let us print a final paper? A goodbye issue? What about the readers who have subscribed and paid for the paper?”
“I’m guessing they’ll get refunds. If New Western Media can afford to pay us to do nothing, they can probably afford to prorate the subscriptions.”
Kimani still couldn’t wrap her head around the strangeness of the acquisition. She thought about the profile of Gordon. Robin had showed her a draft, and it was shaping up nicely.
“So what do we do with all the stories we’re currently working on?” she asked Sam. “Do you think we could sell them to...”
But Sam was shaking his head. “We’re to cease and desist all activities and pack up our things today. They’re going to lock the offices at midnight tonight.”
“Jesus.”
“I need a few minutes before I make the announcement on the floor. Drinks on me tonight.”
They sat in silence for a few moments.
“I knew my stint here might not last long,” Kimani said at last, “and though I didn’t think it would end like this, I’m grateful for each day I was here and thankful for the opportunity you gave me.”
Sam returned a wan smile. “I’m sorry it didn’t turn out.”
“Don’t be sorry. I appreciate your support of me. And it was fun while it lasted.”
“Well, I hope you find something else that’s fun while job hunting.”
“You should find something fun, too.”
“I think I’ll take that camping trip to Yosemite that my husband has been bugging me to do.”
“I’ve never been, but Yosemite looks beautiful.”
She got up to give Sam the time he needed to gather his thoughts and what he wanted to say to the staff.
Everyone else was as shocked as she was to hear the news. Most were dedicated journalists who would have happily worked instead of getting paid to do nothing.
“Guess I’ll go back to doing wedding photography for a bit,” said Ron, as he, Kimani and Robin ate lunch at a nearby bakery.
“I wish happy hour started now,” said Robin.
They at their lunch of soup and sandwiches in relative quiet.
“You guys go on ahead,” Kimani said when they were done. “I want to order an iced tea to go.”
As she ordered, she marveled that she chose an iced green tea. She had fully acquired the taste for green tea now.
Upon exiting, she heard a voice that sent chills through her bones.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Slut #2.”
She decided to keep walking until he said, “What? Not even a ‘hello’ to your Master?”
She whipped around and met the bright blue eyes of Jake Whitehurst. Except for the stubble, he looked exactly as he had during their time together: a Ken doll with his good looks and soft golden hair. Too bad they masked a complete SOB.
“You’re not supposed to come within a hundred yards of me or you’re in violation of the restraining order,” she told him.
He smirked. “Hey, not my fault we happened to want to get coffee from the same place.”
She turned to walk away but stopped once more when he spoke.
“Funny how you’re a reporter. I’m guessing you didn’t tell the people at the Scarlet Auction about that.”
She met his gaze again, and despite his cool demeanor, she saw the hate simmering in his eyes.
How did he know she was a reporter? She supposed it wouldn’t be hard to discover. All he had to do was see her name in the byline of a Tribune article, and though she had used a fake name while participating in the Scarlet Auction, her real name was revealed when she pressed charges against him.
Was he somehow connected with New Western Media? Was he behind the acquisition and shutdown? Somehow, though she knew Jake to be well off, she doubted he had the wherewithal and the assets to purchase the Tribune. But if he knew she worked for the Tribune, he would probably have loved to put her out of a job. But the generosity of the severance package didn’t sound like something Jake would do.
“What’s it to you?” she asked, to see if he would say anything that would connect him to New Western Media.
His eyes narrowed. “Was Benji boy in on your little charade?”
He had touched a raw chord, and, deciding it wasn’t worth it—whether or not Jake was involved with the shutdown of the Tribune probably wouldn’t change the outcome—she turned away.
“I bet he was. Since he’s such a pussy for black cunt.”
Turning back around, she gave Jake a hard stare. “You’re deliberately violating the restraining order.”
“Sluts like you need a real Dom. They need to be put in their place. You know there’s nothing society hates more than an obnoxious, big-lipped black woman with a mouth on her. I’d put that mouth to proper use.”
Her cheeks burned.
Don’t get into it. It’s not worth it. He’s baiting you. Maybe he’s hoping to press assault charges on you.
But she wanted nothing more than to throw her tea at him. Restraining herself, she instead reached for her phone to call the police.
Before she could swipe her phone open, however, Jake grabbed her hand, squeezing so hard she dropped her phone.
“Calling for your pussy boy?” he sneered.
“Ma’am, this guy bothering you?” a stranger asked.
Even though there were plenty of people walking about, and a woman exiting the bakery earlier had lifted her brow when Jake was talking, Kimani was relieved that someone had intervened.
Jake took in the size and obvious strength of the man, and dropped Kimani’s hand. Without a word, he stalked away. The stranger picked up Kimani’s phone.
“Thanks,” she said, receiving her phone back.
The man gave a curt nod an
d continued on his way. Though rattled by the incident, Kimani called the police to report the violation of the restraining order.
It wasn’t until she was back in her office and had time to fully settle her nerves that she realized the stranger looked and sounded familiar. He had on reflective sunglasses, so she couldn’t see his eyes, but he reminded her of the man with the coughing fit outside her place the night of the break-in.
Chapter Sixteen
Ben’s whole body tightened. “He fucking touched her?”
“He grabbed her hand,” Moe, on the other end of the call, confirmed.
Ben looked out his office window at the Bay Bridge, fixing his attention on the structure to calm himself. He could kill the bloody wanker. What the hell was that motherfucker up to?
“Did she inform the authorities that Jake was in violation of his restraining order?” Ben asked.
“She made a call after the incident, but I couldn’t get close enough to hear what it was,” Moe replied. “I didn’t want her to notice me and wonder why I was hanging around.”
“How did she look afterward?”
“Shaken up a little but otherwise okay.”
Fucking Jake Whitehurst. After finishing with Moe, Ben called Bataar.
“You want daily reports on Jake,” Bataar guessed before Ben had said anything.
“I don’t want the fucker anywhere near Kimani,” Ben said. “Make sure your guys are in communication with each other so that what happened today doesn’t happen again. The dipshit knows he can’t touch me, so he’s going after her instead.”
“I’m on it, boss.”
Ben hung up, but he didn’t feel mollified. Part of him wanted to confront Jake, even let the wanker come at him if it meant he would leave Kimani alone. He could threaten Jake, but that would only make Jake more passive-aggressive, and that kind of blustering and chest thumping was for men whose brains weren’t large enough to command their penises.
The screen on his desk phone indicated he had an incoming call from the Dean of the Stanford Graduate School of Business. Ben let it go to voicemail so that he could continue his thoughts on Jake. He had never like the guy, but unlike Kimani, he’d underestimated what Jake was capable of. What was it going to take to get the guy to leave Kimani alone?