His For A Week_Bought

by EM BROWN

  “Your turn to come,” he told her.

  “I—”

  He stroked with her, their fingers sliding next to each other, until she had crossed the point from which retreat would be too agonizing. Gradually, he disengaged his hand from between her thighs to grab her other breast.

  “That’s it,” he coaxed. “You’re too fucking hot not to come.”

  Slumped against him, she continued to ply her clitoris. She had been more vocal last night, but little grunts and pants escaped her lips. He rolled and squeezed her breasts. The things he wanted to do to her...

  Would have to wait. With a wavering moan, she began to shudder. Her head fell back as she arched before she relaxed against him. Her fingers slowed to a crawl, and she exhaled a contented sigh.

  He kissed her temple, surprising himself with the tender peck. “Good pet.”

  Though a part of him wanted to get back to the cabin as soon as possible so he could toss her onto the bed and pound away at that hot and wet pussy, he stayed where he was, soaking in the warmth of her cradled against him.

  “I’m hungry,” declared Derek.

  “I haven’t even gotten to my second bottle,” Jake complained after making his way to the cooler.

  “I’ll fucking drive then.”

  Derek climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. As the boat cut through the water, Ben wondered what he should do with Kimani next. He had refrained from pointing out that she had come for him again, but he wasn’t done proving his point.

  Coming to, she sat up and no longer seemed comfortable near him. He wanted to grab her back to him, pass his hands all over her body, but he let her have some space.

  When they were back in the cabin, Jake barked out his next order. “Make us some lunch, sluts.”

  “I can make some sandwiches, maybe a salad,” Ryan said before turning to Kimani. “Can you take care of dinner?”

  “Sure,” Kimani answered. She turned to Ben. “Can I borrow your cellphone now?”

  He handed her his phone. Like yesterday, she went into the bathroom to make her call.

  He motioned for Jason to join him out on the patio. They stood at the railing overlooking the lake.

  “You know how to get a woman to come, don’t you?” he asked Jason.

  Jason did a double take. “Sure.”

  “It didn’t look like Lisa came.”

  “Well... It’s not like she’s my girlfriend. She’s getting paid to get laid.”

  “So?”

  “It’s a lot of work. That’s what’s so cool about the Scarlet Auction. The women aren’t high maintenance.”

  “You might find Lisa a lot more enthusiastic if you threw her a bone, and not just your boner. Don’t you want her more enthusiastic? Wouldn’t you want a woman to ride your cock like there’s no tomorrow? Or do you prefer to pound pussy while the woman is lying there comatose, counting the seconds for it to be over?”

  “I guess...but some women take forever to come.”

  “Stop being such a wuss. Man up. And try lasting longer.”

  “Sorry if I’m not a sex god like you.”

  “When I first started out, I could barely last more than five minutes. Stamina is something you build.”

  “Okay, okay. You sure know how to take the fun out of things.”

  Ben shook his head. It was like talking to a petulant little boy.

  Turning around, Jason leaned his back against the railing. “So did you find a good prospect from Jake?”

  “I’m setting up a meeting next week with Tyrell Jenkins out of UCLA. While I’m down there, I’m going to round up some donations for Uncle Gordon. Want to come with?”

  Jason made a face. “I’m not interested in political stuff. Bad enough my dad wants me to pass out flyers and shit.”

  “If Uncle Gordon gets elected, we have a good shot at getting that waterfront land deal.”

  “Yeah, yeah, but it’s not like we don’t have enough to do. If I have to work in the family business, I’d rather do that hotel in Thailand you’re working on.”

  “Maybe I can work something out.”

  “Thanks. Your dad will probably overrule it, though. He thinks I’m a total flake.”

  “You are. Because you’ve got potential and would rather sit on your arse. But if you’re interested, I’ll talk to my dad.”

  “Sure.”

  They said nothing for a few minutes, and Ben realized that Kimani was still in the bathroom. He went to see if she was still on her call.

  “Really?” he heard her say through the bathroom door. “Mayor of Oakland? The family is into everything... Sure, let me know what else you find. ... You really think this could be big? ... Okay, talk to you tomorrow.”

  Why was she interested in Uncle Gordon, Ben wondered? And what did she mean by “this could be big?”

  The bathroom door opened, and she looked startled to see him. She handed him his cellphone.

  “Thanks for letting me use it again.”

  “Is Sam satisfied that you’re okay?”

  “Yeah, but she wants a call again tomorrow. Do you mind if I put a shirt on? The AC is blasting in here.”

  He nodded, then went upstairs to his room to make a phone call of his own.

  “With the cell number you gave me, our contact in Singapore turned up a Samuel Green,” Stephens reported. “He’s the editor-in-chief of the San Francisco Tribune. Before that, he was at the Pacific Institute for Investigative Reporting. Currently lives in San Francisco, Haight-Ashbury. Has a husband, Kyle Santos, and two kids.”

  Ben was quiet as he let the information sink in. So, Sam wasn’t a woman, and if he was gay and married, then he wasn’t likely to be Kimani’s boyfriend or lover. What was he then? Her boss?

  “I want you to look up a woman, age twenty-five. African-American,” Ben said. “Graduate of Stanford with a BA in Communications. Works for a financial firm and lives in San Francisco.”

  “You got a name?”

  “I’ve got a first name: Kimani.”

  Coming up Next:

  HIS FOR A WEEK: RAVAGED

  HIS FOR A WEEK: RAVAGED

  Billionaire Benjamin Lee made a mistake when he bought Kimani Taylor for a week of decadent fun. She's hiding something, and he's determined to find out what. By making good on his promise to devastate her.

  Click here for more information

  Excerpt

  His For A Week: Ravaged

  CHAPTER ONE

  I can’t keep screwing up like this.

  It didn’t help to beat herself up over something that was over and done with, but Kimani had never been in a situation like this before. She was supposed to be working—undercover. Which meant that she had be extra careful not to compromise the story or its subjects. And her own journalistic integrity.

  What had she done instead?

  Become sexually involved with one of the subjects. And not just any subject. Beside her in the driver seat of the Jeep Wrangler sat the son of one of the wealthiest families in the world. When he took over the family business, Benjamin Dimitri Lee would be worth somewhere in the vicinity of twelve billion dollars.

  Her editor, Sam Green, hadn’t wasted any time. With the bits of information she had provided him last night—an Asian named Ben who went to Howard University, then the Stanford business school and was recruiting for a team in the Chinese Basketball Association—he had come back with the Lee Family Corporation. Ben’s father, Lee Hua Jing, had founded the Lee Family Corporation, making his first million in residential real estate before branching into commercial real estate and investments of all kinds. Mr. Lee’s younger brother, Gordon, had immigrated to the United States as a teenager when the family was still struggling to make ends meet and was now in a tightly contested election for Mayor of Oakland. And one of the hot button issues in the election was the development of a piece of waterfront property that the Lee Family Corporation had shown interest in.

  “This could be a great s
coop,” Sam had said. “You’ve got to find out more.”

  But Benjamin Lee was a tangent. A tall, sexy tangent whose sensuous touch had a way of shutting down her brain. Even now, she tried not to glance over to admire how his simple shirt fit luxuriously over his broad shoulders and chiseled chest. She supposed this was a side effect of not having had sex in the last six months because she was focused on her career trying to land a job for The San Francisco Tribune.

  She was supposed to be reporting on the Scarlet Auction, where women sold themselves for a week to the highest bidder. Undercover, Kimani had participated in the auction with the intent of exposing its sordid business. Ben hadn’t attended the actual auction, but he had “bought” her from the man, a sports agent named Jake, who had won her with a bid of thirty thousand dollars.

  It was crazy shit that had boggled Kimani’s mind. Jake’s first purchase, a blonde virgin named Claire, had “sold” for eighty thousand dollars. But crazy went through the stratosphere when Ben offered Jake two hundred thousand dollars.

  Kimani couldn’t fathom why he would shell out that kind of money for her unless (a) two hundred thousand dollars was just the equivalent of a pricey vacation and he could easily make the amount back if the HKEX had a good run, (b) Ben didn’t want to be the only guy in the group without a date—correction: fucktoy—or (c) Ben was messed up in the head somehow.

  But he didn’t seem irrational or deranged. In fact, out of all the people she was stuck in a lakeside cabin in the boonies of Northern California with, he seemed the most calm and collected. Even now, when they had been driving in silence for several minutes, she could sense him looking at her, at ease with their silence, probably wondering what she was thinking but restrained enough not to ask.

  Her American-style impatience got the better of her, however, and she turned to ask him, “Where are we going?”

  For a second, she wondered if psychos had the capability of appearing completely normal. He had put the top down on the Jeep Wrangler, and if he had intended to drive her somewhere with evil intentions, he wouldn’t have wanted himself and his victim to be so visible, right? Then again, they were in one of the least populated counties in the state. Trinity County was mostly rugged, heavily forested wilderness.

  “We’re going into Weaverville to get you some clothes,” he replied.

  His answer surprised her. This morning he had made her go onto Jake’s boat without a shred of clothing. Afterwards, he had allowed her to put on the cocktail dress, her only clothing item, with his shirt over it. She hadn’t had a chance to wash the sweats he had lent her. Remembering that she didn’t have on panties, she pressed her legs together.

  “I don’t have any money with me,” she said. Her cellphone and her wallet had disappeared from her handbag sometime after the auction had concluded and before she had been ushered into a limo that had driven her and Claire straight to Jake’s cabin. Ben had let her use his cellphone twice, and it was her only connection to the rest of the world. Sam knew she was somewhere near Weaverville because that’s all she knew. And that probably wasn’t going to be helpful if things should turn ugly.

  “You don’t need any money.”

  “Oh. I’ll pay you back when we get back to San Francisco.”

  ‘When’ we get back. Not ‘if.’ She had had her worries yesterday, especially after Jake had hit her before Ben had arrived. Ben had been her savior buying her from Jake because the thought of laying a finger on Jake made her want to retch. Even though she barely knew him, she felt safe with Ben.

  Relatively safe, she cautioned herself. Ben had an edge. She could see it when his pupils constricted and his jaw tightened. Beneath that cool exterior lay a tiger. He kept a good leash on it, but she couldn’t be sure what would set it off.

  “I’ve got it,” he said.

  “I’d rather pay you back.”

  “Maybe if you’re a good pet, I’ll let you pay me back.”

  She bristled at the word ‘pet.’ It was better than being called ‘Slut #2,’ Jake’s original moniker for her, but not that much better.

  “I insist.”

  He glanced at her as if she were a child who wanted to have cookies before bed. “You don’t get to make the rules, pet.”

  She bristled again. “Then maybe I don’t want to get any clothes.”

  As soon as the words escaped her mouth, she regretted her childish response. It was an outright lie. She wanted something other than her cocktail dress and clothes borrowed from him, even though his shirt and sweatpants were the softest things she had ever worn. She wanted underwear. Desperately. Having a shield of any kind down there might help reign those carnal instincts from running away with her better judgment.

  She had said what she said because she wanted some small sliver of control, and she didn’t want to be beholden to Ben more than she already was.

  But Ben granted her no concessions. “You’re welcome to go naked the whole week.”

  Then maybe I don’t want to stay the whole week.

  This time she curbed herself from saying anything rash. Ben had said he wasn’t going to force her to stay and had even offered to fly her back to San Francisco in his jet. He had sounded sincere. But she didn’t have enough material for her story. And she couldn’t abandon Claire to Jake. He might be as bad as the man who had beaten up Kimani’s roommate.

  “I’ll find a way to pay you back,” Kimani decided aloud. Maybe she’d make a donation in his name to the ACLU or the local Black Women’s Political Caucus. Maybe then he’d prefer to take her money.

  He gave her an amused look but said nothing as they neared Weaverville. With the Trinity Alps as its backdrop, Weaverville was a picturesque Gold Rush town. Though the last census pegged the population at less than four thousand people, the main street looked busy, probably from the influx of tourists taking advantage of the area’s outdoor sports offerings.

  The clothing retail options were limited, but Ben found a thrift store to park in front of. He left her alone to peruse the clothing racks. She found a tank top, t-shirt, a long knit skirt that went almost to her ankles, a pair of khaki shorts, a sports bra, flip-flops, a silk scarf to tie her hair up at night, and cheap sunglasses so that she could return Ben his Louis Vutton shades. At the checkout, Ben had a few items to purchase as well: candles, clothespins and a set of chopsticks. She wondered what the clothespins were for. Surely he wasn’t planning to do laundry at the cabin?

  Eager to be out of her heels and strange ensemble, she changed into the shirt, shorts and flip-flops and immediately felt better. Now she only needed underwear.

  As if reading her mind, Ben said, “There’s a CVS store about a mile down.”

  “Can we walk?” she asked. The summer sun shone warmly, and she preferred taking in the downtown scenery with its many 19th century buildings to going back to the cabin where Jake and his buddies were.

  After putting their purchase in the car, they started walking down Main Street. She had never been in this part of the state before. Her eyes lighted upon seeing a sign for the Joss House State Historic Park.

  Ben didn't miss much. “You want to check it out?”

  “Definitely!”

  While on Jake's boat earlier today, upset that Ben had her go naked like the other three women, she had insinuated he was an asshole. But moments like this showed he couldn't be a complete asshole. This and the fact that he had let her take a nap in his room yesterday afternoon and had looked upset to see the basement where Jake had her and the other “sluts” sleep. Ben had made sure she and Claire had had something to eat when they were hungry after being made by Jake to kneel on the floor for three hours. And, despite having made her come twice yesterday and once today, he had yet to ask or demand she return the favor. He had made no bones about the fact that he had purchased her for sex, so why hadn't he made her do anything? Maybe he was embarrassed about his size down there? Somehow, she doubted that was what was holding him back. When she felt more generously inclined tow
ard him, she thought that perhaps he just wanted to make her comfortable. But surely that was giving him too much credit? After all, he had paid money—a ridiculous amount of money—for sex. He couldn't be that different from the other overgrown frat boys: Jake, Derek, and Jason.

  Turning the corner, they came upon a quaint red building. Built in 1874 and dubbed “The Temple of the Forest Beneath the Clouds,” the Weaverville Joss House was the oldest Chinese Temple in California. Weaverville was once home to some 2,000 Chinese gold miners. Many Chinese immigrants came to California in the nineteenth century for the state’s famed Gold Rush or to work as laborers on the transcontinental railroad. Their large numbers caused Congress to pass the Chinese Exclusion Act, the only US law ever to prevent immigration and naturalization on the basis of race.

  The interior housed displays of art, pictures, mining tools and weapons used in the 1854 Tong war.

  “A friend of mine carried a small hatchet similar to this one,” said Ben, almost to himself.

  “Why would he carry around a hatchet?” Kimani asked.

  “He was old-fashioned. Didn't like guns because they were a Western invention.”

  “Gunpowder was a Chinese invention, though I guess it was the Europeans who used it for mass destruction and guns. Was your friend extremely paranoid? Or was carrying around a hatchet some kind of alpha guy thing?”

  “Chen Kai wasn't more paranoid than the rest of us.”

  “Rest of us?”

  “When I was young and my father was busy taking the family business to the next level, I started getting into gangs. That's why he shipped me off to boarding school in London.”

  “Were you pretty deep in a gang?”

  “I didn’t kill anyone if that's what you're worried about.”

  It was sort of what worried her. “So what did you do in the gang?”

  “Not much since I was still pretty young at the time. Stupid boy shit. Probably got myself beat up more than anything else.”