Claimed by the Trillionaires (Menage for Mankind Book 5) (5 page)

Chapter Eight

When Sarah woke again, she realized she was alone.  She climbed from the bed, and pulled a robe over her, realizing she had no other clothes to wear.  Her jumpsuit had been left at the Coliseum and the dress she'd worn for her auction was nowhere to be seen.

She wandered out of the room, looking for food.  She didn't remember ever being so hungry.  She shook her head.  Her whole life she'd thought that being wealthy meant having food, and here she was, married to four trillionaires, and she hadn't eaten in almost twenty-four hours.  All the exercise and lack of food would be good for her figure, though!

She wandered around the suite, looking for the kitchen, not even certain if there was one.  She'd not seen much of the suite the night before, because the men had been too eager to get her to a bed. 

She shook her head.  Even if she could only admit it to herself, she had to admit she'd been just as eager as they were.  Every single time they'd taken her, she'd been desperate for it.  What was wrong with her?  She knew she was pleasing them, but was it normal for a woman to be so needy?

She found the kitchen, spotting one of the men at the stove with his back to her.  He had dark hair, which all but Jaron did.  His skin was white, though, so she knew it was either Trystan or Houston.  She hoped it was Houston, even though her feelings were strong for Trystan.  After the way she'd behaved, she wasn't sure she could face Trystan again just yet.

"I'm starving," she said to whichever of the men it was. 

The man turned, his eyes growing wide as he stared at her.  He focused on her nipples which were taut under the robe she wore.  "I'll find you something to eat," he said when he finally found his voice.  "I'm Brice's personal chef, Franklin."

Sarah tied the belt of her robe tighter, wishing she had something more modest to wear.  She didn't like wearing so little around a man other than one of her husbands.  "Please," she said quietly.  "Do you know where any of the men are?"

The chef finally tore his eyes away from her.  "They're in the living area watching some clips of the Minneapolis Mighties practicing."

Sarah had no idea who the Minneapolis Mighties were, but she nodded as if she did.  "Where is it?"

"Oh, I forget you just arrived."  He led her out of the kitchen and down a hall, indicating a door.  "Just through there, Miss."

Sarah opened the door, walking up behind the couch where three of her husbands sat watching something on a large screen.  Jaron was standing off to the side of the room, his attention on his phone.

She stood for a moment, watching what was on the screen.  The men on the screen were lined up in two rows.  The men on the right called out all as one, "Red Rover, Red Rover, let number three come over!"

A man with a three on his shirt broke away from the other line, zig-zagging back and forth as if his next move was of utmost importance.  Finally, he ran right between two men who had their hands locked together.  They used their hands to fling him backward, knocking him onto his ass on the ground.  Blood streamed from a gash beside his eye when the camera zoomed in.

"What on earth are you watching?" Sarah asked with surprise.  The children at home played a game called Red Rover where they called people over, but she'd never seen it turn bloody.

Trystan turned and smiled at her over his shoulder.  "This is my Red Rover team."  He caught her hand and pulled her around the couch to sit on his lap.

Sarah wiggled on his lap a bit, already starting to become aroused.  "Red Rover like the children's game?" 

Trystan laughed.  "It's been a professional sport for over a hundred years."

She looked at him in shock.  "Really?  And you play?"  What kind of nonsense was that?

"I used to."  He held up his left hand, and she could see the last two fingers were deformed, as if they'd been broken multiple times.  "I've broken thirty-two bones playing Red Rover.  I retired five years ago, and bought the Minneapolis Mighties Red Rover team."

"How can you break bones playing Red Rover?  Children play it!"

Houston looked at Sarah with surprise.  "You've never heard of Trystan?  He was the best center to ever play the game!"

Trystan grinned at her.  "I loved the game from the time I was small.  Of course, the professional game is a great deal more bloody than the ones we played in the boys' home back in St. Louis."

Sarah frowned.  "You grew up in a boys' home?"  She stroked his dark hair.  "That's so sad."

Brice, who sat beside Trystan, put his hand on Sarah's knee.  "Why is that sad?  We all grew up in boys' homes."  He shrugged.  "We were all born from pods."

Sarah stared at him a moment.  "I never thought of that.  None of you have parents do you?"  Her own parents may have sold her into marriage with four strangers, but she still couldn't imagine a world where growing up without parents could be termed normal.

Trystan patted her knee.  "No, no parents.  You're the only person I've ever known who had them, and look how yours treated you."

She looked around her.  "But we're planning to raise any children, right?"  It had never occurred to her she might be expected to pass on a child to a boys' home to raise.

"Of course!" Jaron called from across the room.  "We wouldn't give up the rights to our child."

Another thought occurred to her then.  "What about raising him or her?  Will you want to know who the father is?  Or will you even care?"

Brice shrugged.  "We'll know if the child is mine."  As the only black man, that made sense.  "I'm not sure I care, though."

That was an odd concept for Sarah.  She listened and tried to take it in.  Houston leaned forward.  "I think we'll know if it's mine as well.  I have no way of knowing if my ancestry is pure Asian, but it does seem to be."  He glanced at the clock.  "Would any of you mind if I head downtown for a few hours?"

The question surprised Sarah.  It wasn't that she thought they'd all spend every minute of every day together, but they'd been married less than a day.  "Of course not," she murmured.

"Thanks," Houston said, jumping to his feet.  "There's an ancient car show.  I'm dying to own a 1963 Corvette." 

From the other side of the room, Jaron began singing softly.  "'Piece of shit car.  I got a piece of shit car!  My car's a fucking pile of shit.  It never gets me very far!'"

Houston bristled and looked at Jaron angrily for a moment before storming out of the room. Sarah looked at Brice in confusion.  "Why did that song make Houston angry?"

Brice grinned.  "Do you know what a 1963 Corvette is?"

"An ancient car?" Sarah guessed.

Brice nodded.  "Jaron sings that song all the time.  He loves to sing songs by Adam Sandler and Garth Brooks. No one else.  Just those two.  Houston took his timing to sing 'Piece of Shit Car' personally.  It's a Sandler song, so he could have guessed that it was just something that Jaron sings, but...It probably wasn't."

Sarah turned to see Jaron leaning against the wall, his eyes filled with laughter. "Did you do it just to make him angry?"

"Of course, I did.  He's annoying, don't you think?"

Sarah shrugged.  "I don't really know him well enough to say.  I don't know any of you very well."

Trystan pulled her closer so her head was on his shoulder.  "What do you want to know?"

Sarah was surprised by the question.  "Everything.  Remember, I grew up in a world where people looked down on one another all the time.  The community was isolated.  It was only through my schooling, and the other girls being sold off the past few years that I knew what was happening in the world.  They didn't tell us about women dying off."

Trystan was surprised by that.  "You didn't have screen time?"

"Screen time?" she asked, shaking her head.  "What is that?"

Trystan gestured to the screen in front of him with the Red Rover game still going but muted.  "That's a screen."

"Oh!  No, we didn't have those.  We had books that were deemed appropriate and computers, but the computers were very limited.  They were made for the community, so we only were able to access certain things.  Current events was not one of those things."  She sighed.  "Am I going to be able to continue my schooling?  I only have eighteen months to go."  She bit her lip, waiting for the answer.  She knew it shouldn't feel so important still, but to her it was.

Trystan nodded.  "Definitely.  You might have to go a bit slower if a baby is born soon, but I see no reason to stop your schooling."

Sarah perked up at that news.  "Oh good!  I was hoping that would be the case.  I want to learn as much as I can.  Maybe I'll change my major to social studies, so I can learn what has happened in the world since our community went into hiding.  Our local school was only allowed to teach what happened until the community chose to break off from the world.  We weren't even given a reason, just that laws were being passed that went against God's laws."  Sarah squirmed a little on Trystan's lap.  Why couldn't she be around men and not be so darned horny?

Brice frowned.  "So you didn't know about the law to abolish child birth? The law that was supposed to save women untold pain and suffering?"

"Not until I started college," she answered.  "And there is untold pain and suffering involved.  I was there when my mother gave birth to my youngest brother.  It was terrible."  She shrugged.  "My community considered it an abomination to not allow women to give birth.  So, they broke away.  It worked for us, because we still have women.  Of course, the community now just seems to concentrate on the parts of God's word they care about."

"What do they care about?" Trystan asked.

"Staying pure.  Nothing else matters.  It's fine to sell off your daughters to four men at a time, but it's not fine to allow them to be alone with men at all before you do sell them off!  I think they've forgotten that 'the love of money is the root of all evil.'"

Jaron frowned.  "Do you hate us for buying you?"  He couldn't bear the idea that she would be unhappy with them, not when they'd already received so much pleasure from her.

Sarah laughed.  "Honestly, I've never felt so free in my life.  I mean, it's odd knowing that I'll never see my family again, but being here frees me up to explore a side of myself I had to keep suppressed."  Even saying the words had the moisture flowing to her pussy.

Brice grinned. "And that part is?" He reached a hand down to her upper thigh, moving it up to cup her mound under her robe. 

She let out a low moan.  "That part of course."

There was the sound of throat clearing at the door, and Sarah sat upright on Trystan's lap, embarrassed that someone other than her husbands would see her doing something so sexual.

"Your food is ready, ma'am," the chef said from the doorway, his eyes wide and fascinated. 

Sarah got to her feet, pushing her robe down and turning her back to the chef while she knotted it more firmly.  "Thank you," she said with a nod, following the chef from the room.

Brice called out, "Franklin, wait!"

The chef stopped.  "Go ahead and eat in the kitchen."  He walked back into the room where the three men were watching him carefully."

Brice frowned at him.  "I hope you know that she's off limits."

Franklin sighed.  "I know.  I'm in a committed relationship."

Trystan studied the man.  "We know that.  Would you be in a committed relationship with a man if you thought one with a woman was within your reach."

Franklin looked like he struggled with the answer, before he shook his head.  "No, I wouldn't.  But I wouldn't do anything to compromise my lover or to try to break up a marriage.  I do have morals."

Jaron nodded at him, struggling with whether to trust the man or not.  "Just so you know, there will be a surveillance system that will be watched at all times when the houses are built."

Franklin nodded.  "I expect nothing less."  He left the room stiffly.

Brice sighed.  "I'm sure we've offended him, but I would fire my chef before I'd get rid of Sarah."  He grinned.  "That girl loves sex."

Trystan smiled.  "She does.  Are we men enough to keep up with her, though?"

Jaron laughed softly.  "I don't think ten of us would be enough.  We're going to have to make sure she always has those sex toys available."

Brice sniffed.  "Something smells good.  What do you think Franklin cooked for her?"  He stood up.  "I'm going to go see what I can find to eat."

The other two followed him into the kitchen.  They found Sarah seated at the table with a huge plate of food in front of her.  "Is that chicken fettuccini alfredo?" Brice asked, already drooling at the possibility.

"Yes, sir," Franklin answered stiffly.  "I prepared enough for all of you."

The men all grabbed plates and sat around the table.  Jaron looked at Sarah.  "Is it good?"

Sarah nodded, her mouth full of food.  She swallowed quickly.  "I've never had this before, but it's wonderful!  I could eat it every day."

Brice nodded, twirling some fettuccini on his fork.  "It's my favorite."

Trystan took a bite and sighed contentedly.  "This is fabulous."  He looked over at Franklin.  "Thank you for cooking for all of us.  I can see why Brice speaks so highly of you."