Page 62 of Ravaged With You

“I want you, you idiot. You’re messed up? I get that. But guess what, so is everyone. Maybe not as much as you, I’ll give you that. But I need you, Red. I want you. I want you to be whoever you are. And,” I add with fierce determination, “I want you to take whatever you need.”

“I believe you,” he says. “But you don’t know—”

“No. Just no. God, you’ve pissed me off.”

I start walking again, and he falls in beside me. We’re silent until we reach the car. As I open the passenger door, I look at him over the hood. “Don’t you have any faith in me at all?”

Confusion flickers across his face. “Jo, I—”

“Just get in,” I tell him, then slide in myself. Then I sit in the passenger seat with my arms crossed over my chest.

For a full five minutes, he says nothing. We just sit in the car. When he does speak, he doesn’t look at me. “I’m scared, Jo. I’m scared you don’t want to give what I need, and I’m scared I can’t ask you for it anyway.”

I’m not sure if it’s relief or anticipation that bubbles through me. Probably both. “Well, we’re just going to have to work through that, aren’t we?” I nod at the steering wheel. “But we’re not going to figure it out here. Let’s go.”

I flash him what I hope is a seductive smile. “I have an idea.”

To his credit, he doesn’t argue. And fortunately, traffic is light, because I’m ready to be home. I want his mouth on mine. I want his body against me. I want to feel him inside me. I want to lose myself in his arms and forget all the horror that’s been happening around us. Mostly, though, I just want him.

And I think I know the way to get him.

As soon as we’re inside, I shut the door behind us, then grab his hand and yank him toward me. I rise up on my toes, get right in his face, and say, “Pay me.”

If I wasn’t so determined, his expression would make me laugh. He takes a step backwards, tugging his hand free. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“That’s what you do, right? That’s why you have Marjorie brokering girls for you. And I bet you don’t have any trouble asking—no, telling—them what you want.” I flash a winsome smile. “So pay me, and I’ll do what ever you say because I have to. The customer is always right, isn’t he?”

He starts to shakes his head, but I don’t let him get away with that. “I’m serious. And honestly, I can use the money. These floors need to be refinished, and there’s a leak in the attic. So you can help fund my house repair kitty.”

“Jo—”

“How much do you usually pay those girls?”

The corner of his mouth quirks, but he answers. “More than I should.”

“Yeah, yeah. But how much? Five-hundred?”

There’s no humor in his laughter. “Jo, give it a rest.”

“A grand?”

“Dammit—”

“Fine. You can do whatever you want to me,” I say, trailing my fingertip down his chest and then grabbing his waistband. I give it a yank, forcing him to stumble toward me. “But it’ll cost you five grand.”

He moves like lightening, caging me against the wall, his face close to mine, his hands on either side of me, his body so close I can feel his heat. “Dammit, Jo, stop it. You have no idea what you’re offering.”

Anger lashes through me. “The hell I don’t. I’m offering me, you idiot. What do I have to do to prove it? This?”

I reach for his fly, then suck in air when I feel how hard he is under the khaki of his slacks. I glance up, meeting his eyes defiantly, then nimbly undo the button. I work the zipper down, then slide my fingers in to stroke his cock.

Or I try to, anyway.

In one swift motion, he pulls me away toward him, then spins me around so that my arms are pinned above my head and my cheek is pressed to the wall.

“Is this what you want?” he asks as one hand pins my arms above my head and the other yanks down my skirt. It’s a floral print peasant skirt with an elastic band, and I gasp as he shoves it down so that it pools around my feet, leaving me only in a pair of pale blue panties and my blouse.

“This?” he continues, roughly spreading my legs before thrusting one hand down the back of my panties. His thumb presses against my ass as his fingers find my core. I gasp as he thrusts deep inside me, then leans in, his mouth against my ear. “Should I fuck your ass, baby? My cock and fingers inside you at the same time, fucking you so hard your tits are bruised from the wall, your cheek scraped because you can’t fucking escape from me?”