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“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.
“Here’s your phone.” She handed it back to him. “Could I borrow it again tomorrow?”
He eyed her carefully. She was having this Sam person look him up. Possibly doing her due diligence and making sure he wasn’t a convict or psycho. The NDA she must have signed with the Scarlet Auction might only have pertained to Jake. Nonetheless, if there wasn’t already language there, a lawyer could probably make the case that the NDA extended to third parties.
“It’s just that Sam will get worried if he—she doesn’t hear from me.”
Why was she covering up who Sam was?
“I don’t care if you have a boyfriend, or even a husband.” Especially if the guy was fully aware of what she was doing, like Woody Harrelson’s character in Indecent Proposal.
“No, no,” she quickly refuted. “I sometimes get my pronouns mixed up because...Sam’s a transsexual.”
He took his phone back. “I’m not going to snitch on you if you lied to the Scarlet Auction that you were single.”
“I didn’t. I’m just used to referring to Sam as a ‘he.’ So, can I use your phone again tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks. Sam—she can be such a worrywart.”
Ben let it go, even though something still sounded off about the whole thing.
“And while we’re here, can you call me Montana? I’d rather people didn’t know who I really was. It would be too embarrassing if anyone I knew found out. Sam’s the only one who knows I’m doing this.”
This Sam was pretty special in her life. Ben had a mind to do some background checking himself. He had Sam’s phone number in his cell since she had texted and called him. If Ben made a few calls, he could get a hacker in Singapore to dig up Sam’s identity, address, and more.
He cupped her chin and tilted her face so that she couldn’t avoid his gaze. He wanted to see her reaction when he said, “I don’t have a problem calling you Montana. But the name I’d much rather use is my pet.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Her legs weakened. Kimani could smell herself on his fingers, which were wrapped firmly—uncomfortably, actually—about her jaw. The pupils of his eyes, darker than any she had known, had constricted. His current demeanor reminded her that the cliff she wanted to climb back on was dangerously high.
“Would you like that?” he asked. “Would you like me to call you my pet?”
Not really. Or maybe. By him. In the context of BDSM role-playing. But she had the feeling his was a rhetorical question, and the only appropriate response she could come up with was:
“Yes, Master.”
His features softened and he released her jaw, allowing her to breath. At least “my pet” was better than “Slut #2.” Wasn’t it? Maybe not. Maybe being referred to as an animal was more demeaning than being referred to as a whore.
“Time to get these sluts their beauty sleep,” Jake announced as he walked into the house.
“I’m not done with mine,” Ben said.
“You had your chance, Benny boy. I don’t want to have to lock up twice.”
“If you don’t mind,” she said to Ben, “I’d like to go with the other women. If that’s okay with you...Master.”
He seemed to like it when she called him Master. He nodded. She breathed in relief. As wonderful as her orgasms had been, she wasn’t sure she was up to another. She needed to get a safe distance from him before she allowed herself to slide farther down that cliff.
“Vince, take the sluts downstairs,” Jake ordered Mr. Stern-Face.
