It looked incredible on her.
“Lucky me,” she mumbled as she headed, slightly uncertain in her steps, toward the door.
Unable to resist, he grabbed her and pulled her back to him. Her body slammed into his. He crushed his mouth to hers and cupped a buttock, groped her breasts, caressed the small of her back, then gripped the back of her head, holding her in place as his lips and tongue sought her arousal. She ground her pelvis against him and grunted in frustration. The chastity belt was working.
Abruptly, he let her go. She moaned. Her body seemed confused. He guided her out of the playroom and into the living room.
“Your assistant did some serious shopping,” she said, looking at all the offerings. As he expected they would, her eyes lit up upon seeing the Golden State Warriors shirt.
“That’s more my style,” she said, walking past the haute couture to take the basketball shirt. She put it on. Her breasts were perky enough that she didn’t need a bra, though her hardened nipples poked at the fabric. “I could just wear the shorts I have with this.”
“Don’t let the clothes go to waste,” he said. “I’m not sending them back.”
She raised a brow at him. “If you didn’t want that problem, you shouldn’t have bought the clothes.”
He could have acknowledged the truth of what she said, but he was the Dom here, so it didn’t matter. He stood in front of her and fingered the small heart-shaped padlock. “Maybe you want me to stick some Ben Wa balls in you before we put the chastity belt back on?”
She sucked in her breath. No doubt he was coming across as a prick, but he met her glare with a cool stare, daring her to disobey.
She backed down, looked over the options, probably looking for what would go most comfortably with the chastity belt, and grabbed an athletic skirt.
Bataar arrived just after she had slipped on the skirt.
“I need you to drive me to a meeting,” Ben told him, tossing him a set of keys. He turned to Kimani. “Wong is at your disposal.”
“Your driver?” she replied.
“You’d said you wanted to get your hair done.”
She perked up. “Really?”
“Just don’t take the whole day.”
Thanks to his undergraduate years at Howard, he knew that getting weaves could easily take eight to nine hours. He remembered waiting for a date because her hair wasn’t done yet, falling asleep on her sofa, and waking up two hours later to find she was still getting her hair worked on.
“Wong has a mobile if you need to make a call,” he added. “And he can take you to breakfast if you want. Or help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”
“Thanks,” she said.
Hearing her appreciation made him feel less of an asshole. He wondered how else he could please her. He would have expected a woman to drool over the clothes from Monica’s boutique, nothing of which would have a price of less than half a grand, yet Kimani had gravitated to the shirt that probably cost a mere thirty dollars.
“I decided to look into this Jake Whitehurst,” said Bataar. “He was suspended for three days his junior year in high school.”
“Totally not surprising,” Kimani muttered.
Ben wasn’t impressed in the least. “You’re seriously worried about a suspension from high school? If you’re going off school records, you have more to worry about from me.”
“The kid he was accused of bullying committed suicide,” Bataar continued.
“Really?” Kimani moved closer to Bataar. “Were there any charges?”
“It’s not against the law to be an asshole,” Ben supplied.
“If it were, I wonder how many years you’d get? Fifteen to life?”
Bataar’s eyebrows shot up. He suppressed a chuckle by coughing.
Ben gave her a cautionary stare. Careful, pet, I’ve got more than a chastity belt up my sleeve.