Devastated Read online

  “He got a little too possessive for me.”

  Ben didn’t point out the irony of her statement. Eumie tended toward jealousy, and her insecurity—texting him every other hour if he was abroad and eying every woman with suspicion—had been the downfall of their short-lived relationship. Admittedly, he hadn’t done his best to allay her worst fears, but he didn’t have the time and temperament to coddle her.

  “So here we are, both of us single and unattached,” she said.

  Her finger now scraped his abdomen.

  “How do you know I’m unattached?” he replied.

  “Well, May thought you might have someone in the United States, but she couldn’t say for sure.”

  Ben would hazard that even if he did have a girlfriend, it wouldn’t stop Eumie’s advances. He looked down at her enticing cleavage, and his urge to swim waned.

  “What are you really trying to say?” he asked as her finger slid over his crotch. His cock hardened.

  “I think you know what I’m suggesting.”

  He returned a look of exasperation. Why did so many women feel the need to be coy? This sort of beating around the bush was a bloody waste of time. Kimani had been less than straightforward. While she hadn’t been evasive just for the hell of it—she was doing her job and trying to hide her identity as an undercover reporter—her lack of truthfulness still rankled him.

  “Well?” Eumie prompted.

  Ben stared at her lips, inches from his. Women liked to play this sort of game—get the man to speak aloud what the woman was thinking.

  He cut to the chase. Grabbing her by the back of her neck, he crushed his mouth over hers, smearing her lipstick.

  She stiffened in surprise, then went all soft on him. As usual, she allowed him to direct the kissing, perfectly content to be the recipient of the action. Her lips were not as plump as Kimani’s, but they possessed the soft suppleness he had come to expect from women. After taking a brief moment to set the tone—he was in charge—he stumbled her back toward the bed. They fell onto it. Eumie purred as he kissed his way down her throat to her décolletage. The mischievous part of him considered giving her a hickey, but knowing that she had a photo shoot and how she would react, he decided it wasn’t worth it. He yanked the sleeves down her shoulders to expose more of her breast.

  “Hey!” she yelped. “Be careful with my dress. It’s a Vera Wang.”

  Ignoring her—if she really cared that much about the dress, she shouldn’t have tried to seduce him—he continued to pull the sleeves down past her pink lace bra. Yanking the bra cup down, he bared her rosy areola.

  Kimani had mocha-colored areolas, large areolas that took up almost a third of the breast. His cock stiffened further at the memory.

  When he started devouring Eumie’s nipple, she seemed to forget about her dress. She wriggled beneath him. “Do you like my new tits?”

  “Sure,” he replied, squeezing the orb and finding it firm to the touch, not nearly as pliable and soft like real breast tissue.

  She arched her back as he continued to suck and bite her nipple.

  “If we go through with this,” he said, “it’s a fuck for fuck’s sake. Nothing more.”

  “You’re so romantic, Benji.”

  “I don’t want any misunderstanding.”

  “A fuck for fuck’s sake. That’s all I’m looking for.”

  Satisfied with her response, he reached beneath her dress and rubbed her crotch, feeling the dampness on her lace panties. He remembered how wet he could make Kimani. He remembered making her squirt for her first time. That was much better than popping cherries as Jake liked to do.

  Knowing that Eumie liked the attention to her breasts, he went to town on them while he groped her between the legs. She gasped and sighed, and sighed and gasped. He intended for the sex to be relatively quick, not the drawn-out episodes he saved for his subs, and Eumie was aroused enough that she wouldn’t need a lot of foreplay. Pulling aside her lace thong, he fondled her clitoris.

  “Oh, Benji,” she purred, a starry look in her eyes as she gazed at him.

  “Missed me, didn’t you?” he returned.

  She shrugged. “A little.”

  He sank two digits into her hot, wet snatch, making her moan. “Just a little?”

  He worked her till she was panting and writhing.

  “Okay, maybe more than a little,” she admitted between sharp breaths.

  He pulled her panties off and stuffed them between her ruby-red lips. “Taste that? That’s more than a little, love.”

  After fetching a condom, he spread her legs and settled between them. He pulled out his cock and slipped on the condom. Eumie had always been good about taking her birth control pills, but he wasn’t going to take any chances

  “Nice shave,” he commented, noting her bald mound.

  Removing the panties from her mouth, she beamed at the compliment as he ran his finger through her hair, thick and straight compared to the delicate curls adorning Kimani’s mound.

  He aimed his prick at her slit and shoved inside her wet heat. He closed his eyes and saw himself sinking into Kimani. His member throbbed.

  With Kimani, he would have lowered himself onto his elbows so that he could take her mouth while he thrust into her. But he stayed upright with Eumie to avoid her perfume. He rolled his hips, driving himself deeper, imagining Kimani’s hips grinding in rhythm to his. He would pin her wrists above her head with one hand if they weren’t already tied together with his favorite hemp rope. His other hand would grasp her breast and pinch her nipple, lightly if she was being good, hard if she wasn’t.

  Of course he would pinch her nipple hard. She hadn’t been very good at all. She had been very, very bad. She didn’t deserve to be made love to. She deserved to be fucked. Punished. Without safety words. Maybe without coming. He’d punish her so fucking hard—

  “Benji!”

  Realizing that Eumie had called his name twice in succession, and that he had been pounding away more harshly than he’d intended, he stopped. He rolled his hips more gently, searching for the angle that made the eyes roll toward the back of her head. He found a rhythm and depth that made her tighten her hands around his forearms.

  “Damn, you’re so good,” she moaned.

  Minutes later, she was convulsing and screaming. He used the moment to thrust harder and quicker, but his release didn’t come as soon as expected. Withdrawing, he flipped her onto her stomach before plunging back in. He slapped his pelvis against her creamy white buttocks—and when he pictured himself sinking into Kimani’s arse, he erupted.

  How many women would he have to fuck before he stopped seeing Kimani in his mind? he wondered as he lay in post-coital haze with Eumie curled beside him.

  He thought about the man who had broken into Kimani’s place. What the fuck was Jake up to? Could he trust the San Francisco police to figure it out? Or Bataar and the former Secret Service he hired?

  Ben wanted answers, and he wanted them now. He wasn’t content to just sit and wait for SFPD or Bataar. He didn’t like that he was over 5,000 miles away, unable to do shit. And if he could resolve the issue and put his mind at ease, then maybe he could finally be done with her.

  He would fly out to San Francisco himself.

  Sooner rather than later.

  WRAPPED IN A THICK robe, May, who had finished a massage treatment at the hotel spa, stood at the edge of the pool.

  “I meant to text you earlier that Eumie is here,” she said as Ben got out of the water. “I tried to hint to her that you were interested in someone in California.”

  Ben toweled off his wet hair. “She didn’t take the hint.”

  “Sorry about that. I tried to spare you.”

  Ben sat down on a lounge chair and ordered tea from the poolside server, aware that May was eying him keenly.

  “Guess it was just as well,” May continued. “You fucked her, didn’t you?”

  May had never been a big fan of Eumie’s, possibly because May
had hit on Eumie first, and Eumie had not received May’s flirtation as a compliment.

  Lying back, he closed his eyes. “So what if I did?”

  “Don’t you remember what she was like?”

  “She’s not interested in getting back together.”

  May snorted. “Of course that’s what she’s going to tell you. She’s old school at this game. She knows playing hard to get still works with men.”

  Ben wondered if Kimani had ever played hard to get. He couldn’t see it.

  “Maybe she’s at the same place as me,” he said. “Women aren’t always interested in a relationship. You were the one who told me that women are not biologically predisposed to monogamy, that it’s a construct men imposed on women to keep them from having too much sex.”

  May rolled her eyes. “But, deep down, Eumie’s old fashioned. She wants that giant diamond on her finger.”

  “Her Hollywood boyfriend could have given her that.”

  “I wouldn’t just take her word for it that she dumped him. She never struck me as the most truthful person. She reminds me of one of those femme fatale movie characters.”

  “May, stop worrying.”

  “She’s trying to sink her hooks into you.”

  “You don’t know that. And even if she were, I can take care of myself.”

  His sister shook her head. “Men have blind spots when it comes to women. You could have the IQ of Albert Einstein, but when you think with your dick, you’re dumber than shit.”

  Kimani had been a blind spot, Ben thought to himself.

  “I’m not interested in getting back together with Eumie,” he tried to assure May.

  “That’s what you say now.”

  He gave her a chiding look, as if she were a petulant child unhappy with being told she had to do her homework before turning on the television. “She knows what I expect and don’t expect. She’s a grown woman. If she wants to risk getting hurt—”

  “Wait, does that mean you’re open to sleeping with her again?”

  If May wasn’t his sister and hadn’t covered for him all those years when he’d snuck back into the house late after a night hanging with gang members, he would be tempted to take a paddle to her backside.

  “She’s coming with me to California, so—”

  “What?! Why would you invite her to go with you, and when did you decide you’re going back to California?”

  “Our younger sister’s homecoming is in a week. No one in our family is planning on visiting her except me.”

  During his four years at Howard, May and Uncle Gordon had been the only family members who had come to visit him. Ben had spent all the holidays with Uncle Gordon in California. Ben’s father had not been pleased with his decision to turn down Oxford or an Ivy League school in favor of Howard.

  “That doesn’t explain why Eumie has to go.”

  “She’s related to Aunt Alice,” Ben said, referring to Uncle Gordon’s wife, “and hasn’t seen her in years.”

  “Related? She’s something like a second cousin twice removed from Aunt Alice’s cousin.”

  “Leave it, May. Like I said, I can handle myself.”

  May was quiet. Unlike their older sister, May knew when not to push things further with Ben. She would go boldly right up the edge of his patience, but she never crossed the line. She did, however, have the last salvo this time.

  “So if Eumie is visiting Aunt Alice, that means you’ll be in the San Francisco area,” she said. “That’s why you’re brining Eumie.”

  Done with talking, he had closed his eyes, but he decided to humor her one last time. “What do you mean by that?”

  “It’s not like you can’t get pussy wherever or whenever you want. So why Eumie? All I can think is that, somehow, she’s a better safeguard for you when it comes to her.”

  Ben didn’t say anything. He hadn’t invited Eumie for that reason—at least not consciously.

  May settled back into her chair. “Maybe I’ll tag along, too. It might be fun to see what Eumie thinks of your San Francisco fucktoy.”

  Chapter Seven

  After spending two days at UCLA with his youngest sister, Ben flew to San Francisco. Eumie behaved herself for the most part, even agreeing to watch a basketball practice. She spent most of the time on her mobile, but he appreciated that she didn’t complain about boredom or ask to leave early. Her only comment about basketball was that it was too bad the players didn’t get to have cute outfits like golfers did. Golf was the one sport Eumie was open to playing on occasion.

  He had originally planned to be more involved in the Oakland waterfront property his family was developing, but after the article spotlighting his relationship to Uncle Gordon, he decided to take a lower profile. Nevertheless, he checked on the managers leading the project and agreed to a meeting with the San Francisco District Attorney’s office.

  In the Hall of Justice, he bumped into Claire, the barely legal blond whom Jake had acquired through the Scarlet Auction. She looked well and still sported the diamond and emerald ring she had worn her last day at Jake’s cabin.

  “Oh, hi,” she greeted with a perky smile. “How’ve you been? Jake thought you and Jason had returned to China for good.”

  “Jason’s in Singapore at the moment,” Ben said.

  Far away from Jake’s influence, he added silently. After how things had ended at the cabin, his cousin had agreed to drop his friendship with Jake.

  “You see a lot of Jake?” Ben asked.

  “Yeah, we’re, like, dating.”

  “Does the district attorney know that?”

  “They asked if I was continuing my relationship with Jake, and I told them I was. It seems like they want to make the Scarlet Auction and the men involved out to be, like, bad, but it’s all just a misunderstanding. I mean, I get that Montana—I forget her real name—and Jake didn’t get along, but she signed up for the BDSM part, right?”

  “So you didn’t feel frightened during your time with Jake? You weren’t worried that he would harm you?”

  “That’s exactly what the Assistant D.A. asked me. They played this audio recording of us—did you know we were being recorded?”

  Ben stiffened. He hadn’t known at the time, but one of the secret recording pens had been in his possession.

  “Anyway,” Claire continued, “they didn’t tell me how or who did the recording, and I was gagging and crying on it, which was, like, kinda embarrassing to have that played in front of these lawyers, and I had to explain what BDSM was all about, like they weren’t familiar with it, but it turns out they wanted to understand what my interpretation of it was. I mean, yeah, Jake was a tougher Dom than I thought. I thought he would be a little more gentle, like in the books, but it’s kind of cool that he’s, like, this super alpha kind of Dom.”

  Ben looked Claire over once more. As cute as she was, he didn’t think she was the kind of woman to sustain Jake’s interest for long. Jake was more likely keeping her on his good side during the D.A.’s investigation. Intentional or not, Claire had probably played a pivotal role in the plea deal Jake had gotten from the Trinity County D.A. She seemed smitten with Jake.

  Ben’s US attorney, Murray Jones, who had with him another attorney because he didn’t specialize in criminal law, walked up at that point, and they headed into the meeting together. Claire waved a cheerful goodbye.

  The meeting was not particularly enjoyable. The Assistant D.A., Tracy Clarkson, had chosen to treat Ben as a hostile witness, her judgment of Ben not unlike what Kimani’s had first been.

  “Were you a participant of the arrangement known as the Scarlet Auction?” asked Clarkson, a woman in her late thirties with the strong square jaw of certain European ancestry.

  “I have never attended an auction of theirs,” Ben replied.

  “But you are aware of their activities?”

  “I am aware they’re no longer in operation.”

  “That does not mean we cannot hold the organizers and any participa
nts accountable for placing women in danger. Were you aware of their activities?”

  Ben glanced at his attorney before answering, “I was.”

  “And do you condone their activities, Mr. Lee?”

  “How are Mr. Lee’s opinions pertinent to your investigation?” questioned the criminal attorney Jones had brought in.

  “I’m under the impression that all the participants were willing and consented to their involvement,” Ben said.

  “So you think it’s okay that women sell themselves to the highest bidder?”

  “Do you believe the government should keep its laws off a woman’s body?”

  “Do you?”

  “My client is here to cooperate with your investigation,” interjected the criminal attorney, “not answer questions about his politics.”

  “Speaking of politics, I understand your uncle is running for mayor of Oakland.”

  Ben stiffened. “My uncle has nothing to do with any of this.”

  “Surely you are not threatening to smear an innocent man?” Jones asked.

  “Of course not,” she snapped, “but it might be unfortunate if our case moves forward and the nephew’s involvement is mentioned in the press.”

  “I’d like a word with my client.”

  Ms. Clarkson motioned for her assistant to leave the room with her.

  “I don’t care if she wants to pin me with a prostitution charge,” Ben said when he was alone with his attorneys, “but none of this hits Uncle Gordon.”

  “Technically, you exchanged no money with Miss Taylor,” Jones said. “You and she were simply engaged in consensual sex.”

  “I don’t think she’ll be able to build a case and be ready to go public with it before the election,” the second attorney said, “but if you’re worried, you do have something of value to Ms. Clarkson that you could offer—the legal documents Miss Taylor signed.”

  Thanks to a hacker Stephens had employed, Ben had a copy of both the nondisclosure agreement and the questionnaire Kimani had filled out. On the latter, she had indicated a strong interest in almost all elements of BDSM. It was one of her many lies.