He lifted a brow. “Oh, really? This tickles?” He leaned down then and pulled that same nipple into his mouth, tugging forcefully enough that I could feel a pull low in my belly.

  “No, that does not tickle.”

  “Oh, good.”

  His hands wandered down my belly, and his fingers slid over my sex, gliding to my folds, and my breath hitched. “Ben.”

  “Open for me.”

  I parted my thighs a little, and he slid right in. First one finger, his palm branding over my clit, and then he retreated. When he slid back in, it was with two fingers. The slow, teasing motion caused me to chase his hand as it teased pleasure but didn’t quite satisfy.

  Before I knew it, he released my nipple, kissed at my neck, and then the thick length of him slid right in.

  We both groaned, and I hissed with a bite of pain. He immediately stilled. “Fuck, are you okay?”

  “Yes, it’s just... You really are Big Ben.”

  He nuzzled his face on my neck. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I’m not hurt. I’m just a little sore,” I whispered.

  “I should have just kissed it better.”

  “You did kiss it better, remember?”

  “That was hardly kissing. I can do better.”

  He started to glide out, and my fingers clawed at his back. “Nope, you’re already here. Why don’t you start moving and make me feel better.”

  “Oh, is this kind of like kissing it all better?”

  “Yup. Um-hmm. With your dick.”

  His movements were slow. Controlled. But now with the initial sting gone, I didn’t want slow and controlled. I wanted hard and fast, and I slid my fingers into his hair and tugged him close.

  It was his turn to hiss. “Jesus, Liv. I’m trying to go easy here.”

  “I don’t want you to go easy.”

  “You’ll be sore.”

  “I like being sore.”

  With a growl, he increased his movements. A wave of ecstasy rolled over me as I careened toward the edge of bliss. “Yes, that’s it.”

  “Who does this belong to?”

  “You. Always you.”

  “Don’t let anyone else ever touch this again.”

  I shook my head. “Nope. No, never. Oh my God, Ben, right there.”

  “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?”

  “A month and three days.”

  He pulled back and peered down at me. “Do you know exactly how many days?”

  “Yup, . That’s how long I have been tortured too.”

  “Uh-huh.” He swiveled his hips again, and I cursed. “Somehow I think I’ve been more tortured. I didn’t even think you liked me.”

  I grinned then. “I’m still not sure I do.”

  “Well then, Miss Ashong, let me convince you.”

  And he did. He convinced me so thoroughly I had three more orgasms before he roared and spilled inside me. “Jesus, woman, I really don’t think I can move.”

  “I really don’t think I want to.”

  Three hours later, after Ben had convinced me to shower with him and he’d fed me, he headed off to a meeting with East and Bridge. I called Telly from the comfort of the bathtub.

  “So you finally got laid, huh?”

  “What?”

  “Please, I can hear it in your voice. Was it in Paris? Shit, please tell me it’s Ben and not Dexter.”

  I hadn’t told her anything yet about Dexter. “Yeah, about that...” Once I got started, everything flowed out of me. I told her all of it. Even the part about how Ben’s nickname really was accurate.

  She paused me several times along the story for typical Telly reactions. When I finished, she asked, “When do we pack you out?”

  I shook my head. “I need to plan for when he’s not there. Maybe next week?”

  “How is Tall Blond and Viking taking this? He says this is the real thing, and it feels that way, but I got so involved in Dexter’s world I didn’t even stop to think about what I wanted for myself. I’m not doing that anymore.”

  “Well, okay. I’m glad you’re figuring it out. I do want to say something though.”

  “What, that you were right?”

  “I mean, I was, but something else.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Have you heard of something called the Elite?”

  I frowned. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

  “Well, it’s a secret society out of Eton.”

  I frowned and sat up straighter in the bath. “As in, the super posh all-boys school?” Ben and his friends had gone to Eton.

  She nodded. “Yep, that’s the one.”

  “I don’t know anything about it. Why?”

  “You know how my mate, Matthias, who’s been working on decrypting those files from the flash drive you copied?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s a list of names and dates. Some of the corresponding dates match to major world events.”

  “But why would that information be encrypted?”

  “I have no idea, but I need you to be careful, okay? If Ben had that information, it’s worth something to him. Maybe he’s in the group. I want you to tread carefully with him.”

  “Telly, are you serious?”

  “At the risk of sounding cliché…as a heart attack.”

  “Fine, I promise.” I hung up with her and got out of the bath and into my robe. As I padded into the bedroom, I considered calling Ben. All I needed to do was ask him about the Elite. He’d tell me.

  Would he?

  Would he lie? And then there was the slight problem of finding myself in close to danger since I’d met him.

  Was I in more danger with him than on my own?

  Last night, I’d let him screw me into complacency. He’d dickgasmed me. From the time I’d said yes and handed over the drive, I thought I’d been in control. But what if that wasn’t the case?

  Or you’re paranoid and you’re freaking out and want an easy reason to run.

  Damn it. Last night had been some kind of out of this world sex. It had meant something. It was certainly a shift in our relationship. Especially after Paris. He cared about me, and I well...I was dangerously close to falling.

  So then talk to him before you freak.

  I would. We were certainly past the point of keeping secrets. He’d seen all of my dirty laundry.

  When my phone buzzed, I rolled over on the bed, tugging the robe around me, and grabbed my cell off the nightstand. I assumed it was Telly following up with a text about something she’d forgotten, but I frowned when I saw who it was.

  Dexter: Where the hell are you? Where did you stay last night? Call me.

  I immediately hit delete. Then pushed out of bed to find some clothes. I’d only managed a T-shirt and panties when another chime dinged. Dexter again.

  Dexter: Just talk to me.

  I couldn’t avoid him. If I did, he’d just keep calling and texting. And I was done avoiding. I called him instead of texting back.

  He answered right away. “Oh my God, Livy, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. But you can’t keep calling me. You can’t text me. We’re done.”

  “I made a mistake. Are you really going to throw away everything for a little mistake?”

  “And therein lies the problem. To you, it was a little mistake. To me, you took everything that we were and you ruined it.”

  “Jesus. Look, I’m just saying the wrong thing. If you would just meet with me, okay? I’ll come to you, or just come back to the flat. We’ll talk.”

  “I’m pretty sure I told you to get the hell out of the flat.”

  “You weren’t thinking straight.”

  I sighed. “Let me make it perfectly clear to you, Dexter. I was thinking straight. I’m done with you. I never want to hear from you again. I never want to talk to you again. Do not be there when I come to collect my things. Matter of fact, I’ll send someone to do that.”

  He cursed under his breath. “Fuck. Look we just need to talk this out. Where are you? I’ll come to you. I’m willing to start over and give you whatever you need.”

  “What I need is not to talk to you again.”

  His voice took on a sharp edge. “Tell me where the fuck you are. I’m done arguing. You’re acting like a spoiled bitch.”

  I lifted my brows. So this was him. This was the real Dex. “Bitch is it? Fine call me what you need to. The more you talk, the more you cement my decision.”

  There was a beat of silence. “You’re with him, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not with Ben right now.” Technically the truth, but still, I wasn’t going to get into that with him. “Dexter, we’re done. I’m in love with someone else.”

  Silence. “So, you shagged him then? To get back at me?”

  Had he always been such a self-centered prick? Yes. Absolutely yes. “Everything I told you when I walked in the apartment yesterday was true. You’re the one who’s been having an affair.”

  “Well the way you’re acting is making me wonder a few things too.”

  “Wonder all you want. Let’s not forget, you practically threw me at your boss.”

  Another beat of silence. “That’s not what that was. You’re overreacting. Typical. If you would just stop being so high-strung and listen—”

  “Ah, and there’s the real Dexter. Ready and willing to blame me and call me names. I’m done. I don’t have to put up with that anymore. And while we’re at it, I’m going to call the investigators in the morning and let them know I wasn’t the one responsible for our accident. I’m not signing off on it.”

  “God, you’re such a fucking cunt,” he spat out. “Do you know how much I hate you right now? If you would just—”

  I hung up without letting him finish.

  For three long moments I stared at the phone waiting for the guilt and concern. It didn’t come. I felt so much better. Lighter. Like I’d taken charge of my own life again.

  I was free.

  I needed to find pants. I’d get dressed check in on work maybe, then give Ben a call. I heard a crash from somewhere in the house and I paused.

  Frowning, I went to the door and listened. There was a loud thump coming from down the hall to the left. I opened the bedroom door and called out. “Ben, is that you?” I inched out, peering into the rooms I passed. Looking for signs of life.

  It wasn’t until I made a left toward the living room that I felt it. The hairs at the back of my neck stood at attention, and I whipped around. Instead of Ben, it was the one person I didn’t expect to see. I opened my mouth to scream, but he grabbed me and planted his hand over my mouth. “You have been a very naughty girl.”

  To Be Continued in The Benefactor…

  The Benefactor

  Book 2 - See No Evil Trilogy

  1

  Livy

  Da-dum. Da-dum.

  Most people think that when you’re terrified, time moves at lightning speed. But the truth is, it’s a sloth-slow hyper-awareness of your own impending doom.

  My heart slowed, and I could feel every single breath of what was happening, even the infinite space between breaths. As my eyes widened in horror, recognition hitting me like an anvil, the hand clamped tighter around my mouth, and the more I struggled, the deeper strong, clammy fingers dug into my skin.

  What is he doing? He was supposed to be protecting me.

  What I’d once thought were the warm, kind eyes of my driver, Todd, were now dull and lifeless. “You are a naughty girl,” he said, his voice oddly low, like a groggy cement mixer. My body flooded with adrenaline which only tripped me into panic. I couldn’t think. Why would he do this? He’d been driving me for weeks. Taking me where I needed to go. Why would he try to hurt me now?

  I tried to force steadying breaths into my lungs, but the tears made that difficult. Drop by drop, salty wet tears hit my tongue, as the fear set in that I might not make it out of this.

  Tears? Ovary up. Fear immobilizes. Anger motivates. Think.

  My brain clawed on that kernel of anger. Anger would help me survive. I tried to hold on to that rage of knowing that he’d ruined the blissful, happy lull I was experiencing.

  I’d had the best sex of my life in the last twenty-four hours. No way did I want to give that up. I had to fight. As things to fight for went, sex was just as good as any other.

  I nodded and agreed to whatever he said so he might loosen his grip and let me breathe... move... just a little bit.

  “You’re a whore. Tell me you know what you are. He told me what you were.”

  I nodded emphatically because I couldn’t speak.

  Agree to everything. Anything. Live to fight another day.

  “He told me you were, but I didn’t believe it until I saw you with my own two eyes. First Paris, now here. You’ve been a whore all along. But that’s okay. You’ll be dealt with.”

  He? Am I being watched? By whom? For how long?

  Todd whipped me around, his hand holding my jaw too tight. He dragged me back against his body, and the firm impression of his erection against my back made bile rise in my throat. Instinctively, I wiggled, trying to free myself, accidentally rubbing against his body even more.

  He groaned and eased his hand just a little, but his fingers still dug into my skin, making my jaw muscles scream. I did the only thing I could do; I opened my mouth to relieve some of the pressure. Then taking a deep breath, I bit him. Hard.

  Even as his roar echoed in my ear, I didn’t let go with my teeth, but he went ahead and released my arm as he bellowed.

  Freedom.

  I brought my arm up and drove my elbow back into his gut while I kept clamping down with my teeth.

  Take skin if you can.

  I recognized the coppery taste of blood blooming on my tongue, and I shook my head back and forth, trying to do even more damage.

  A sickening, gagging scream and a sudden release of tension in my back told me I’d taken a part of him with me.

  “You cunt,” he growled out.

  I didn’t turn around or look back. I did not pass go. I did not stop to collect two hundred quid.

  I ran for the door like Satan himself was coming after me. I knew the way out. I just had to get there.

  There’s the kitchen. Faster.

  I remembered all my old track and field coach’s words. “Stop worrying about your legs. Worry about your arms. If your arms can move quickly, your legs will follow.”

  I had nothing to lose from trying that advice as my legs felt like jellied blood, too heavy to make them work. Too shaky to be at all coordinated. But it didn’t matter. I was moving, and I forced my arms to pump back and forth.

  Back and forth.

  The spike of adrenaline had me temporarily forgetting my bearings in the loft. I was just off the bedroom, down the hall, past the library. I’d have to make a right, to the massive living room into the kitchen and out the door. I could do this.

  Just run.

  Easier said than done when your limbs didn’t work. And there was something sticky and slippery on the ground. I didn’t dare look, because if I looked, I was afraid of what I was going to find.

  As I bolted through the loft, I lamented the size of it. What single man needed a four-thousand-square-foot loft at the top of a hotel?

  Still, I pumped my arms and turned the corner, grabbing priceless art pieces off the walls and tossing them behind me, trying to delay my attacker. As I went to make my right turn, he caught hold of the T-shirt I was wearing and yanked back.

  My legs kicked out from under me, and I flew into the air, going weightless for just a moment, giving me enough time to worry about how hard my landing was going to be.

  When I crashed, I spread my limbs out to disperse my weight and kept my head tucked, chin into my chest, so it wouldn’t hit the floor. But that didn’t stop the spasm of pain, as my back slammed into the hardwood floor.

  I immediately rolled to my side, tempted to curl into a ball and wait for death, but I forced my arms to push me up onto my feet.

  Get up. Get up. Get up.

  My feet slipped, and I could feel shattered glass beneath them. Tiny shards. Fortunately for me, as much as I was slipping, so was Todd. His shoes were more of a detriment, but they still offered some protection from the glass.

  On tippy-toes, I tried to avoid the glass from the photograph I’d dragged down. He reached for me again, but this time his shoes slipped in blood and he went down.

  Success.

  Breath tearing out of my lungs, heart pounding against my ribcage, body shaking full of adrenaline and fear and a will to live I’d never fully examined before, I bolted into the living room.

  And then I saw it... the reason for the blood. The blood that Todd had tracked through the loft. His partner, Brian, was bleeding. His throat was slit, and he was propped up against my exit.

  Fuck.

  I knew Todd was behind me, his footsteps growing ever nearer.

  If you stop, you die.

  I did a quick assessment and considered stopping to double-check that Brian really was dead, but I could hear the all-too-close clattering of Todd’s footsteps behind me. I had to get out. If I could get out, I could call for help.

  Ben. Where is Ben?

  As I scurried around the coffee table in the living room, I saw the feet of another body. Holy shit. The chef, Constance. She’d come to leave food. Ben had told me she would so we wouldn’t have to cook anything for ourselves. She moaned. Mumbled something.

  I reached down for her. “Take my hand.”

  She shook her head. “Please, go,” she whispered.

  I tried to pull her. “Oh no, please come with me. Please. Please. Please.” But she went limp, her hand dropping from mine.

  Just as I tried to rouse her, Todd rounded the corner and I squeaked.

  His voice was all ice and malice. “Come back here, you cunt. There’s nowhere to run. Will it help if I tell you I don’t want to do this? If I show up without you, it’ll be bad for me.” He climbed over the coffee table I’d shoved near the entryway.

  Fuck. There was no way I was going to be able to move Brian’s body away from that door. Not with Todd so close.