Page 71 of Ravaged With You

“Not a problem.” He gave them all a nod, told Ryan he’d report back, then left the office.

“Seems like a good guy,” Red said.

“He is. Keeps to himself mostly, but he knows his stuff and doesn’t play games.” Ryan pushed back from his desk and stood. “I doubt we’ll know anything today, but if we do I’ll be in touch. Or just tell you at the party tonight.”

“I’d lost track of the days,” Jo said later as they were walking back to Red’s car. “I can’t believe that party is tonight. I’m so happy for Abby. And, honestly, I’m completely curious about what Damien Stark’s house looks like.”

“It’s fabulous,” Red told her. “They invited me over after the situation in New York. It’s huge by my standards, but considering Stark’s net worth, it’s modest. I liked that about it. Felt like a home, not a showpiece.”

“I heard it has an underground garage and tennis courts.”

“Right on both counts.”

“I would love to see him play someday. My mom was a fan back in the day and I can remember watching him. I think she had a crush on him, even though he was so young. Like what, seventeen or something? I know I had a crush.”

Red laughed. “Should I be jealous?”

“Nope,” she said, laughing. “Not in the least.”

“At any rate,” he said once they were walking again, “it’s nice but at the end of the day, it’s just a house.”

“Like you’re just a guy?”

“I am.”

She tugged him to a stop and kissed him, a hot deep kiss that earned them more than a few catcalls from passersby.

“You’re not,” she said, when she pulled away. She started to walk again, but he pulled her back.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she asked.

He hesitated, trying to put it into words. “For being so fucked up. For not telling you years ago how much I wanted you. And for feeling guilty about wanting you in the first place. You belonged to Mel, and I loved him, and I hated myself for craving you.”

“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t feel sorry about the past. We have each other now, and we’ve already agreed that Mel would be happy for us.”

“I love you, Jo.”

Her easy smile warmed him like the sunshine. “Good. Because I love you, too.” She bit her lower lip, then tilted her head, her eyes dancing. “Do you know what you can be sorry for?”

“What?”

She slid into his arms, then cupped his cock, clearly uninterested in whether anyone was watching. “For making me late for the party.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

By the time we need to get dressed for the party, I’m desperately on edge and begging for Red to please, please let me come again. And he, damn him, isn’t agreeable at all.

After three mind-blowing orgasms, I probably shouldn’t care, but he’s played me like a symphony all afternoon, building the music of my passion up and up into a series of ever increasing explosions until I’m begging for more and more and more.

Now my body is hot and needy, my pussy aching for him, and every touch to my clit sends waves of pleasure through me. Waves that suggest a coming tsunami—one that Red is very firmly denying me.

“Please,” I murmur.

“We need to get ready,” he says, sounding all too smug.

I squeeze my legs together, but to no avail. Right now, I’m on my knees, my chest against the mattress and my wrists bound to the headboard. My ass is in the air, and my thighs are spread. I can still feel the lingering sting of Red’s palm against my rear, and when I close my eyes I can remember the way that sweet sting curled through me, seeming to center at my core.