He is as good as his word, and as his fingers and mouth set my body on fire, I stretch my arms out and close my fists around the bedclothes in defense against the pleasure that is rising like a storm inside me.
Down and down he moves until his tongue is stroking the string of pearls that makes up the thong of these exceptionally intriguing panties. And though he is not touching me directly, the pearls are moving intimately over me, making me even more desperate for him than I already was.
“Dammit, Damien, now,” I beg, but I tormented him in the limo, and he is not going easy on me now. This is torture by seduction, and it is glorious.
From the floor where it has fallen, my phone chirps, the distinctive cricket sound that I assigned to Jamie’s texts. “Ignore it,” I say, then make a mental note to strangle my best friend after she repeats the text three more times.
I’m about to tell Damien to go ahead and toss my phone out the window when his phone rings. Another distinctive tone, this one assigned to the Stark International security department.
“Shit,” he says, but since I happen to know that the number is for emergency purposes only, I know that Damien will answer. As he reaches for his phone, I decide to grab mine and see what Jamie says.
All her text reads is 9-1-1.
I frown, and turn to look at Damien, who now wears an expression that could bring down a small nation.
“What’s happened?” I ask as soon as he ends the call.
“Get dressed,” he says, pulling his clothes back on.
“Tell me,” I demand as he tugs me toward the closet.
“Jamie and Ryan got an extortion email, too. Another two hundred grand or else the sender releases a sex tape.”
“Of her and Ryan?”
“Of her and Douglas,” Damien corrects, referring to the rather sleazy next-door neighbor that Jamie banged on more than one occasion.
“Oh, shit,” I say, as I pull on a knit skirt and a T-shirt.
“Yeah,” Damien says as we head toward the stairs. “I think that about sums it up.”
Chapter 8
We start out heading toward Venice Beach, assuming that both Ryan and Jamie are at his house. But a text from Jamie soon has us changing course. Ryan, apparently, has taken off for Studio City. And according to my best friend, he’s gone with the intent of beating the crap out of Douglas.
Fortunately, we’re not yet to Santa Monica, so we abandon PCH once we reach the Getty Villa and Highway 27, and careen through the hills toward the 101 Freeway.
We arrive right before Jamie, who is squealing to a stop in front of our old building. She’s in the Ferrari that Damien and I gave her as a going-away present, and I know damn well that she pushed that machine to the limit to get here that fast. I know, because we did the same thing.
“Ryan’s here,” Damien says, nodding toward a Mercedes parked at an odd angle across the street.
“He’s gonna kill him.” Jamie is hurrying toward us. Her eyes are red and her makeup blotchy. “I’ve never seen him so mad.”
“He has reason to be,” Damien says darkly. “Come on.”
The building entrance is enclosed now, thanks to Damien’s contribution to building security, but Jamie has the key code. She taps it in, and we three hurry inside, then up the stairs to Douglas’s condo, right next door to the one Jamie and I used to share.
Damien tries the knob, then pounds on the door when he finds it locked. “Dammit, Ryan. Open up.”
Jamie joins him in pounding. “Hunter! Open the door!”
For a moment, we hear nothing. Then the door opens, and I see Ryan, looking completely wrecked.
Immediately, Jamie launches herself at him. He catches her, then holds her close as she sobs against him.
Ryan meets Damien’s eyes, and I can almost hear the question that is passing between them—Did you do something I’m going to have to clean up?
And, yes, Damien would clean it up—of that much I’m certain. If Ryan Hunter beat the shit out of Douglas the Sex Tape Prick, Damien would do everything in his power to see that Ryan not only got off easy, but that the women of this city threw him a fucking parade.
For a moment, Ryan doesn’t move. Then he just shakes his head before stepping aside, silently letting us pass.
Inside, Douglas is on the sofa clutching his stomach, his face so drained of blood it is almost translucent. “Fucker kicked the shit out of me.”
“And you deserved it,” Damien says.
“I didn’t do it,” Douglas says. “Kung fu boy there says I threatened to sell a tape of me and Jamie to TMZ or some such shit, but it ain’t true, man.”
“Bullshit,” Jamie says. She looks stronger now, and although she’s still holding tight to Ryan’s hand, she’s standing on her own, and her face is on fire with anger. “You made that thing without telling me. You really think I’m going to believe your bullshit now?”