Love For Rent

Junie Makes Michael

Book 5
Boruma Publishing

In Book 5 of Junie Makes Michael, disaster strikes: Junie’s sexual hijinks land her in trouble with the law—she makes headlines and loses her job. What’s a girl to do? Rather than sit on her rear end, Junie decides to sell it, along with the rear end of her live-in girlfriend Melanie. The notoriety of her arrest catapults her into the upper echelons of high-end escorting, where her sexual adventures include a lesbian sex show with Melanie, sex on (not in) a luxury British car, and a three-way in a private jet at forty thousand feet.

~~~~~  Excerpt  ~~~~~

At six-foot-three, two hundred and thirty pounds, dressed in an Italian suit and custom loafers, Gordon dominated the living room. Sitting in an easy chair next to Junie, he looked around. “You are one of the glummest assemblages of white mother**kers I’ve ever had the misfortune to be with,” he said.

“Thanks for that uplifting greeting,” Junie muttered. “You could’ve just texted your condolences.”

“Woman, I wouldn’t have come over here if all I was going to say is I’m sorry for your pathetic asses.”

“Okay, then why are you here?” Michael asked, bristling. The men despised each other—one, the formerly caged and cuckolded husband, the other the prodigiously endowed lover (and tenured university professor) who had been Junie’s f**k buddy since she was in high school.

“Not to give you any advice, jerk,” Gordon spat. “You people ever hear the phrase, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade?”

Junie rolled her eyes. Melanie, seated next to Michael on the couch, shifted uncomfortably.

“I guess I gotta spell it out for you,” Gordon said, more to himself than the other three people in the living room. “Junie, what is the most important thing in your life? Outside of sleeping and eating?”

She didn’t answer.

“It’s sex. You are the most sexual person I’ve ever met. Even when you’re doing other stuff, Dewey Decimal System stuff, you’re always thinking about sex. Wanting sex. Planning sex. Doing sex.”

“Not in the last few days.”

Gordon made a sour face. “Okay, I really got to spell it out for you. Here’s another question, and I guarantee you it’s not rhetorical. Is there such a thing as bad publicity?”

Junie started to cry.

“Goddam it, Junie, stop that! Listen to me. You’re sitting on a gold mine.”

“What do you mean?” Junie asked between sniffles.

“Well, I mean it figuratively. And literally. You aren’t infamous. You’re famous.”

Michael leaned forward to Junie. “I’m pretty sure, Princess, boyfriend is suggesting you start turning tricks for a living,” he spat. “And I’m sure he’s willing to take a cut.”

“Like just about everything in your miserable life, you got it wrong—dead wrong,” Gordon said. To Junie: “I know people. People who are rich—damn it, rich isn’t the right word. Sports stars. Rappers. Businessmen. Yeah, drug dealers—and I don’t mean street-level. People I grew up with, went to school with. You have no idea how much money they have.”

“So?” Junie asked as she wiped her eyes.

“Damn it, woman, you’re not thinking clear. Remember Robert from Atlanta? My Morehouse buddy? That weekend we spent at my place?”

Junie nodded. It had been her first threesome in several years. After two days of nearly nonstop sex, she had left Gordon’s apartment bruised and happy.

“His brother plays for the Sea Hawks. He has a thirty million dollar contract.”

“I still don’t get it.”

“Listen, Junie. These men…they have wives, they have girlfriends. You know what? Wives and girlfriends are a pain in the ass. Not in the mood. I’ve got a headache. You forgot my birthday. Pain in the ass. So when they want sex, just sex, just to have a good time… Am I getting through?”

“They hire a hooker?”

Gordon slapped his forehead. “They don’t hire a hooker. Okay, there’s a word. ‘Escort.’ A beautiful woman, fun to be with, a perfect date—and very, very skilled at sex. The whole package.”

“How do you break in?” Michael asked.

“Sounds like I’m getting through to someone, finally. It’s not easy. You could do some research, find one of those high-priced Manhattan or Hollywood escort services. Remember that governor of New York? He paid, like, thirty-five hundred a night? But that escort had to split her fee with her madam.

“The best, absolute best way to get into high-end escorting is to freelance,” Gordon continued. He leaned forward, gesturing, intense, his eyes blazing. “It’s also the hardest. You’ve got to be a known entity. Someone with a verified skill set. And you’re over that hurdle.”

“‘Chief librarian offers extended services’?” Michael asked.

“Yes! Goddamn, my phone is going nuts! Junie, all these guys I’ve known for years. I’ve told them about you. You’ve met some of them and slept with at least one. They want to do you! In the nicest possible way! They read those articles and get hard!”

“I should…should…become a prostitute?”

“Think of it as—the entertainment business. Something that you give your all to, which is your style. And not just you. Girlfriend here, too.”

Melanie blinked. “Me?”

“You’re a perfect match, salt and pepper,” Gordon explained. “Junie’s all sexual energy, crazy sex-fiend stuff. She’s a small package that just explodes. Melanie, you’re softer, more innocent. And your body and those boobs…You two make an incredible package. And there’s a big marketing advantage to that, especially with the really high-end customers.”

“Why?” Michael asked.

“It doubles the kink, so you can double the fee. Trust me on this: Nothing, absolutely nothing turns a guy on more than watching two hot women do it. Since you’re already lesbians, so much the better. Only thing, you’ll have to shorten it up, time-wise. Lesbians go on forever.”

Melanie blushed and mouthed to herself, “Am not a lesbian.”

“Oh, god! See what I mean! She’s priceless!”

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Additional Information

Boruma Publishing
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Published on
Apr 4, 2016
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Fiction / African American / Erotica
Fiction / Erotica / BDSM
Fiction / Erotica / General
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Content Protection
This content is DRM protected.
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Available on Android devices
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Eligible for Family Library

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In this sequel to Making Michael Obey, marital bliss had ended for newlyweds Junie and Michael only six months into their marriage—his interest in lovemaking had waned. Junie discovered her husband is more interested in pleasuring himself than making love to her. Her healthy libido wouldn’t stand for second place, and she delivered an ultimatum. Michael, seeing the error of his ways, submitted—and he agreed to wear a locked acrylic device 24/7. Junie has taken complete control of their love life—and discovers she needs more than what Michael can deliver, even after she unlocks the cage.

~~~~~  Excerpt  ~~~~~

“You’re utterly submissive to me now,” Junie said to me. “It’s miraculous. I can really see the changes that chastity has brought. Six months ago, you were this phony image of a man, a successful guy with a beautiful wife. But secretly you were pleasuring yourself in a dark corner, and your woman only served as your receptacle when you were in the mood for real sex.

“Now, you’re mine. You’re absolutely nothing, but you’re all mine. You don’t make love, you don’t touch yourself. You cook, you clean, you fawn over me, you jump two inches off the floor if I look at you cross-eyed.

“You’ve gotten more sensitive, too,” she added. “You’re gentler, more attentive to me. Your lovemaking is absolutely divine. It’s like you consume me with your mouth.”

“Princess,” I added eagerly, “my senses are so much sharper.”

“See? Isn’t that wonderful? That’s what chastity has done for us. That’s why I’m going to keep you chaste. Right, Michael?”

“Yes, Princess. Absolutely. I’m so much happier. It’s just that today…”

“Never mind that. Something else you need to know. Your look of need and desperation enthralls me. I want more. I want more of looking down and seeing you kneeling between my legs, your entire being concentrated on only pleasing me."

Junie placed her curled fist in Melanie’s outstretched hand. “Remember your promise?” Junie whispered. Tendrils of arousal blossomed in the pit of Melanie’s belly. Melanie had her price, though: She wanted a weekend alone with Michael, Junie’s caged husband. And Junie had her requirement: Melanie must sleep with her black bull to prepare her for the women’s XXX weekend in D.C., where they would celebrate the legalization of gay marriage on a pretend honeymoon.

~~~~~  Excerpt ~~~~~

“So, how is this going to work? Will this be a threesome?”

“Gosh, no, Melanie. Gordon detests Michael. The cuckolded husband and all that. Gordon will be out of town most of that weekend. We worked it out. He’ll meet you at a bar Sunday afternoon. He’ll buy you a drink. I can comfortably predict he’ll seduce you. If it makes you more comfortable, you can take him to my place. Michael will be there. That should up the comfort level for you.”

“What about you?”

Junie’s faced turned quizzical. “Me?”

“Don’t you want to be there? To watch your black lover, you know, stretch me?”

“Heavens no, dear. Why would I want to do that? Anyway, I’ll be away that weekend.”

Lunch arrived, and the women’s conversation turned to politics. Earlier that day, the Supreme Court had ruled that gay marriage is legal in every state.

“It makes me so happy to see lesbians walking down the street hand-in-hand, smooching in bars, dancing in clubs,” Junie said as the table was cleared.

“I know two couples who are getting ready to tie the knot.”

“It’s made me think about our weekend.”


“If you get Michael for a weekend, it’s only fair that I get you for a weekend, right?”

“Sure. What are your plans?”

“Gay marriage is in the air. Can’t you smell it?” Junie grinned.

“What in the world are you leading up to?”

“You’re going to be my wife, Melanie. For two whole glorious days. We’re going to go on our honeymoon. We’re going to parade around town, arm in arm, holding each other tight, smooching and cooing.”

Melanie stiffened. “I am not a lesbian.”

“No! Neither am I! We’ll pretend! It’ll be fun.”

“Junie, I can’t strut around Boston…”

“I didn’t say here.”


“In D.C. I’ll be at a conference at the Library of Congress that ends Friday at five. I’ll pick you up at Union Station at six forty-five. I’ve got reservations at a great little boutique hotel just off Dupont Circle.”

“I see.”

“Think of it. Two hot chicks dressed to kill, hanging off each other. D.C. is so straight-laced and self-important. We’ll stand out, but in a nice way. We’ll make a splash wherever we go. People will nudge each other and say, Look at those hot lesbians! On Saturday, I’ve got tickets for the ballet at the Kennedy Center. I’ll buy you a drink at intermission. Well, actually, the whole weekend is on me.”

“Then back to our room for the main event?”

Junie smiled. “One of the main events. You don’t know this about me, but I need sex every day. If I don’t have a man, I have to … you know. My sex drive just doesn’t let up. If I go more than twelve hours without an orgasm, I get snappish and moody.” Her eyes lit up. “I want to find out if sleeping a woman will be as satisfying as sleeping with a man. I think so, but I want to know for sure. Think about it, Melanie. After a weekend of sleeping with Michael, topped off by an afternoon with my bull, wouldn’t you like to find out if sleeping with me is enough? Melanie?”

Melanie had closed her eyes. Tendrils of arousal blossomed in the pit of her belly.

Maggie is sure she’s going to die when her plane goes down at sea. She manages to scramble into a life raft with eleven muscular athletes. They reach a deserted tropical island safely…then face a new dilemma. One sexy woman. Eleven horny men...and their captain is built like a BBC porn star. Maggie’s life will never be the same again!

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

“Give me your blouse,” he instructed, striding energetically toward the surf.

She was halfway to obeying that command, too, when it struck home, and she skidded to a stop in the hot sand. “What?”

“Your blouse,” he said patiently. “It’s a thinner material than my polo shirt, and it has long sleeves, so it’ll work better for catching minnows for bait.”

Maggie narrowed her eyes. “You want to use my best blouse to catch fish,” she said slowly, not quite believing him.

“Minnows,” he clarified. “There are big schools of them darting around just past the first row of breakers. What else do you think we could use to catch some big fish…coconut?”

That didn’t sound very likely to succeed, but still Maggie hesitated. She hadn’t thought twice about peeling it off out there in the ocean. But now nerves were prickling just beneath her skin…because she was alone with a powerful, gorgeous man who could ravish her without thinking twice? She’d felt a lot safer when she’d been surrounded by sweaty muscular men, and how crazy was that?

Her conflicting emotions must have shown on her face, because he shot her a disgusted look. “Sex is the absolute last thing on my mind right now,” he informed her, and held out an imperious hand. “Come on, hand it over.”

Uneasily she fingered the first button. “I will get it back intact, right?”


When he gestured again, she reluctantly slid it off her shoulders. His gaze never flickered, even when she shyly crossed both arms across her breasts. Saying nothing, he picked up a forked branch, tied each sleeve securely to the widespread ends, knotted the hem to form a crude windsock, and waded out into the surf. She watched in fascinated silence as he dragged her shirt through the shallow water, and came up with a dozen tiny wriggling fish. Another long scoop, and the bottom of her shirt flip-flopped liked a living creature.

“That’ll do for now,” he decided, and waded back to dump them in a shallow puddle trapped between some worn rocks. “You know how to fish?”

“I grew up on a farm,” she said with what dignity she could muster, and all but grabbed her blouse back when he untied it. “Where did you learn how to make a sieve net like that?”

Again his teeth flashed white against his ebony skin. “I’m a scout leader during the off-season. My troupe likes to go camping in the mountains a lot.”

That explained plenty. “Let me rinse out my shirt first, and then I’ll see what I can catch,” she offered, and waded out to her mid-thighs to shake tiny fish scales from the fancy stitching.

She straightened, slid her arms back in her wet sleeves, and arched her back in a spine-popping stretch…then saw the way Sebastian was staring at her. His dark slacks were soaking wet and clinging to his muscular thighs. Her heart began pounding wildly when her gaze dropped, and she saw the huge bulge of his desire rising hard and proud, straining against the fabric.

“I thought sex was the absolute last thing on your mind!” she retorted, then flushed bright red when his gaze shifted from her lush breasts to her face.

“I lied.” His voice was razor-sharp. “Why do you think I sent the others across the island?”

Instinctively she crossed both arms over her breasts again, and took a wary step back.

“Eleven men, one incredibly sexy woman,” he continued harshly. “That’s a recipe for disaster if there ever was one!”

One stunning alpha-male who was built like a rutting stallion, and one nervous woman who was…

Admit it, Maggie, she thought with a strangled gulp. Desperately aroused!

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