Woman Named Red

by Stasia Black

  He leans back on the sofa, nodding. “Sinatra. Crosby.”

  I wave a hand like that’s nothing. “That’s just the upstairs lounge that was redone in the thirties. Think of the underground speakeasy that operated all throughout Prohibition.”

  Vale’s eyes light up at the mention. Oh yeah, I’ve got him. Hook, line, and sinker.

  He sits forward on the couch again like he’s full of energy and can’t sit still. “It’s a shame what’s happened to The Sutler the past decade. The last owner didn’t take good care of her.”

  All right, fuck. I can’t help the grin splitting my face at that. He’s already talking about the hotel like I do. He’s adopting her in his head.

  “She was owned by a group of overseas investors and run by an incompetent manager,” I agree.

  “We’ll change all that. I can’t be that hands on, but I’ve looked into you.” His eyes narrow on me and his gaze is shrewd. I’m seeing the face of the tech genius who took his personalized drone company public five years ago to the tune of six and a half billion dollars. “You know the city and you know good management. I like you, too. You’re trying to sell me on this deal but you’re not spreading a coat of bullshit over it to try to sweet-talk me. Just agree to always tell me like it is. No matter what.”

  He’s looking me dead in the eyes and I’m hearing him.

  “No bullshit.” I nod. “Ever.”

  He stares at me for several long moments, far longer than is comfortable in regular conversation, but I don’t break his stare.

  Finally, he holds out his hand. I reach out and take it. His grip is iron. “Like I said, I like you, Kennedy. Money and friendships aren’t usually good to mix, but I’m hoping this can be an exception. Don’t fuck me over.”

  I don’t look away from his gaze. “I’m not fucking anyone over. You’re a smart man and you’ve looked into the details of this deal. You know my businesses. You know me.”

  Still holding my hand in a crushing grip, he gives it a shake and nods his head. Then he lets go and stands up.

  “Good. Then put me down for twenty million and forget looking for another investor.”

  I feel my eyebrows arch in surprise as I get to my feet as well. I feel the really? on the tip of my tongue but again, bite it back just in time.

  “That’s excellent.” I think I manage not to sound completely taken aback. Well, fuck if I didn’t tag the right source on this one. A good, solid guy and with interests to match the project. He’s a goddamned needle in the proverbial haystack. “I’ll let the rest of the group know. I’ll arrange a board meeting and contact the realtor asap.”

  He nods again as he does up the button on his suit coat. “Great. Callie and I would love to have you out to the house as well. Feel free to invite a plus one. I’ll have my PA call yours to set it up.”

  “Of course. I didn’t get to meet your lovely wife that night you got VIP tickets for a group last year. That’s when you two were first together, right?”

  His face darkens briefly, but then he relaxes. “That was quite a night,” he says, mouth going up in a half smile. “Stay in touch.” He pats me on the shoulder and then heads to exit the curtained-off area, hands in his pockets. It’s the easy-going stride of a man who’s secure in his path in life.

  I sigh out a huge breath as soon as he’s gone and drop down onto the sofa, scraping my hands through my hair.

  Holy shit.

  I did it.

  I got all the financial backing. The Sutler is going to happen.

  Holy. Fucking. Shit.

  I pull my phone out of my pocket. There are a million and one things to do. I’ve got to call Stella. She’ll be waiting by the phone. I’ve got to email the rest of the group. Contact the real estate broker. Move my funds around. It will mean liquidating a few of my assets that I’ve had on hold, waiting to see if I could get the last of the backing, but now that I have—

  My thumb pauses before hitting Stella’s line, number one on my speed-dial. As soon as I punch that button, it all begins. All the craziness of starting a new acquisition.

  Stella, being Stella, will want to be up all night. It won’t matter to her that it’s a Friday night and everything is closed. Banks on the East Coast open at eight-thirty a.m., she’ll say. Five-thirty our time. That leaves us six and a half whole hours to get our ducks in a row, arrange all the paperwork, cross every T, dot every I, make duplicates—no, triplicates—of every document, get them ready for the notary, prepare things for legal…

  It goes on and on. I used to get just as excited about it all as she did. I was the one supplying the double espressos our first two property acquisitions for opening Benson’s House restaurants, and then I got the buzz for Chandelier all over again.

  But now?

  I drop the phone back into my pocket and my feet start moving like they’re on autopilot. I don’t question it. Soon I’m jogging down the stairs. I grab the railing to keep from tripping because I’m moving so fast.

  Acquisitions. Historical landmarks. Millions of dollars.

  Fuck it.

  There’s a woman waiting for me who has unbelievably soft skin and blue eyes that looked at me like I was shaking apart her goddamned world.

  Chapter 8

  “Oh. Hi.” Scarlet’s long, mascaraed eyelashes blink in surprise when I rejoin her on the VIP level. She’s lounging on an elevated sultan’s couch in the front box-seat nearest the stage. She sits up from the many cushions on the couch, the liquid in her margarita glass tipping precariously.

  “I didn’t think you’d be finished so quickly.” There’s a pretty blush to her cheeks and she puts down her glass on a side table. She fidgets with her straw at the dregs of the slushy margarita. Guess she wasn’t kidding about liking tequila. The glass of Glenlivet sits untouched beside it.

  She follows my gaze.

  “I tried it. Honestly.” Her face scrunches up. “It was just so—” More intense face scrunching plus what looks like an involuntary shudder. “—thick and bitter.” She shakes her head and lifts her almost empty glass.

  “Give me a margarita any day.” Her hand wobbles a little as she holds up the large globe goblet. “These, on the other hand, are delicious. I drank the first one down in no time and then,” she perches up on the couch on her knees, “I know it’s a wee bit naughty, but I wanted another one. Did I say how delicious it is? Because I mean de-li-cious.”

  I grin at her. “I think you’re a bit sloshed, darling.”

  She sits back, still on her knees, but to the side, effecting a graceful, swanlike folding of her long body. “No,” she whispers, looking startled, lifting a hand to her mouth. Then she giggles, looking up at me like she’s scandalized at herself. Then she waves her hand in front of her face and blinks hard.

  Fucking adorable.

  “But I ate dinner.” She frowns and I laugh.

  I come forward and around the side of the large, flat couch, dodging pillows that have fallen to the floor. The couch has about eight pillows and I push some back and sit down beside Scarlet.

  “When was the last time you had a drink? Before tonight, I mean.”

  She looks at me. “Well, I sip the wines to check pairings.”

  My grin is still stretched wide across my face. I can’t help it. “Other than that. A hard drink.” I lean in and bump her shoulder with mine. “Like say, tequila.”

  She blinks. “Oh. A couple of years. Maybe more.”

  “There you go.” I laugh.

  She narrows her eyes at me and then swats me on the shoulder. “Don’t you dare laugh at me, Kennedy Benson.”

  Which only makes me laugh harder.

  “I am not drunk, only buzzed. And I know where you live,” she threatens. “You see these heels?” She lifts a slender calf. “I could do some serious damage.”

  I hold my hands up in surrender.

  “I want to dance,” she says suddenly, getting to her feet. And maybe she’s not lying about just being buzzed, because,
speaking of those ankle-breaker heels of hers, she’s not wobbling a single bit on them.

  I jump to my feet and try to take her hand but she slips away before I can close my fingers around hers. She weaves through the crowd, around tables, and between mingling groups. I expect her to stop once we’ve gotten to an area of the balcony without any tables where people are dancing. It’s much less crowded than downstairs and I figure it will be more Scarlet’s scene since she seemed uncomfortable in the crush of bodies on the main floor.

  Then again, when has Scarlet ever done what I expect?

  Instead of stopping amid the dancing crowd, she passes by and continues on to the staircase down to the main floor. She takes the stairs easily despite her heels and I follow.

  “I thought you didn’t like it down here,” I shout to be heard above the music once we’re downstairs.

  The speakers are turned up almost as loud as they can go. I can feel the thumping bass through the floor up into my ribcage. It vibrates not just my eardrums, but into my bones.

  “Make some noise, San Francisco,” DJ Diaz shouts and the crowd erupts, screaming and waving their arms in the air as the light coming from the chandelier goes crazy—spiraling, spinning beams of light over their heads along with the beat of a popular radio song.

  His sister DJ slows down the beat and Diaz starts rapping over the song. The crowd goes even wilder.

  I glance at Scarlet, checking to see if she looks like she needs to bolt at all this activity. But nope, she doesn’t look freaked out. Instead, her eyes scan the crowd. I don’t know what she’s looking for, but she seems to find it.

  Her face brightens, eyes flicking a little feverishly. Her arm shoots out and she grabs me by the wrist, then starts dragging me straight into the thickest part of the crowd. Just plowing right through people.

  “Hey! Watch it!”

  “The fuck? Oh day-um, bitch, you can push me around anytime.”

  I glare that guy down, but he’s too busy watching Scarlet’s ass in her dress to notice me. Scarlet keeps pulling me relentlessly forward so there’s no time to stop and punch the fucker or at least get him ejected from my club for life.

  “Excuse me. Sorry. Pardon me,” Scarlet starts to shout as she continues weaving and pushing her way through people until we’re right smack in the center of the dance floor.

  The song the DJs are playing is in full jam now. They’ve gotten the crowd so pumped, no one much notices us.

  People writhe and dance on all sides. They dance and jump and grind up on one another. Asses rub up against crotches. Hands caress down bodies. Thighs weave in between thighs. Sweat and heat combine in the dark crowd with only the beams of light occasionally illuminating a flash of faces or bodies.

  Another flash of light shows a couple making out so heavily the guy looks like he’s about to swallow the woman’s tongue. In a separate bright beam, I see a man’s hands planted on his girl’s ass up underneath her mini-dress, guiding her hips as she twerks against the front of his slacks.

  We’re surrounded by the particular club smell of perfume and men’s body spray and lip-gloss and sex and beer and desperation.

  When Scarlet twists in my arms and starts dancing so that cherry round ass of hers is teasing my dick to life, well, fuck me.

  I don’t do desperation.

  But damn if my hands don’t greedily grab at her tiny waist and I can’t seem to help burying my face in her shoulder. Our bodies start moving to the music. Her body goes liquid against mine and I sling one arm around her waist. She’s like a ragdoll against me and I feel like I’m moving the both of us. But really, fuck, it’s only because she’s just loose and is letting herself go absolutely in sync with me. She’s giving herself up to it.

  To me.

  So fucking hot. I’m hard. I’m hard and I’m not gonna hide it. I swing our hips back and forth with the music and I grind my rock-hard dick into her ass unapologetically. My grip around her waist tightens, my fingers clutching her hips. I switch our movements so that our pelvises roll front to back with the beat instead of side to side.

  In an imitation of fucking.

  She’s mine. I’m going to claim her right here in front of God and everybody else.

  A beam of light falls on us and I think about anyone around us who might be glancing at us like I was just looking out on others moments ago. I want to roar in satisfaction—look, you sad shits! You all wish you had this fucking amazing, gorgeous woman abandoning herself to you like this. But she’s mine and mine alone.

  Christ, she’s so hot and alive beneath my hands. And it’s torture knowing there’s just the tiniest bit of cloth separating my cock and Scarlet’s cunt.

  No. Fuck that. I can’t wait another goddamned second.

  I twist my head so that my lips are right by her ear. “I need to be inside you. Right. Fucking. Now.” I pump my hard as iron cock into her backside to prove my point.

  She turns to me. I can barely make out her face in the dark room, but I can see the wild glint of her eyes. “So do it,” she pants. “What the hell are you waiting for?”

  My dick jumps in my slacks. Not removing my hold around her waist, I start to pull her off the dance floor. There’s a supply closet not too far away—

  But Scarlet resists and I stop, too.

  “No,” she says, twisting and pulling herself up by her grip around my neck so she can speak into my ear. “Right here. Right now. On the dance floor.”

  Light flashes on us and I see her face. Determined. Also savage and turned on with excitement.

  Fuck. Me. This woman. She’s going to be the death of me. But goddamn if it isn’t going to be an exhilarating fucking ride to the bottom.

  She leans in again. “You have a condom?”

  I nod and even in the dark, I can see one side of her mouth tilt up in a wicked smile. She waves a finger in my face like I’m a naughty boy, but what can I say? With Scarlet, I’m always hoping I’ll get a chance. I have three condoms on me right now. A man can dream, right?

  She comes close, slinging both her arms loosely around my neck. She leans in, I think for a kiss, but she goes for my ear instead. “Well wrap up, big boy. I don’t have all night.”

  Then she pulls back and smiles at me.

  Angel or a devil, I’m not sure I’ll ever know with this woman.

  But I do hurry to reach in my left pocket and pull out the gold foil wrapper. Scarlet moves to dance even closer to me and I undo the wrapper in the small bit of space between our bodies. I pull the rubber out and slip the foil back in my pocket.

  Scarlet’s breath hitches as she looks down between us, arms still around my neck while I pop the button on my slacks, unzip them, and release my cock from its confines.

  “Oh fuck,” she breathes out hard when she sees me take my dick in hand and roll the rubber down my length, “you’re just so thick.” She sounds in awe. “No wonder it fills me so good.”

  Christ fuck son-of-a—

  My eyes almost roll back in my head. I’ve got to get inside her sweet cunt this second or I’m going to bust. I don’t give two shits about public indecency or the fact that this is my club or all the things that could go wrong for me if we’re caught.

  Which is not how Kennedy fucking Benson operates. I’m careful. I’m considered. I’m always in control. I own every situation I walk into. I know the players and I know the games.

  Until her.

  I pull her arms from around my neck, flip her around so that her juicy ass is nuzzling my cock, and then I lift up the back of her dress, barely bothering to be discreet.

  I jerk her roughly back against me. She’s so tall, especially with those heels, I don’t have to bend over awkwardly to get to her. My fingers slide around to probe at her slick entrance, but I don’t shove them in right away.

  “You like to bring me out here and tease me with this juicy cunt?” I breathe in her ear, my voice low and sharp but still loud enough to be heard over the music. And she is—juicy, that is. S
he’s all but dripping down her goddamn leg she’s so fucking wet.

  I feel right on the edge of losing control. My hand still underneath her dress, I take my cock and rub it at her lips. Still I don’t dip inside.

  She just won’t stop pushing boundaries. “You like to come in and turn everything upside fucking down?”

  It hurts at this point not to be seeking the friction I need, but at the same time I need this, too, to torture her as much as she’s fucking torturing me.

  I dip the tip of my cock inside her and then pull out again. Aw fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

  She whines and presses back against me. I don’t give in.

  “You like to drive me crazy with this pussy so that I could barely focus on my business tonight?” The words come out rasped, ground out through my teeth. “So that all I can think about is getting my dick wet again in this hot, fucking cunt of yours?” I dip the tip in and then pull back out again.

  She writhes, trying to push back and impale herself on me, but I move my pelvis back, denying her.

  “If I’m going to be so fucking nuts over you, you bet I’m going to make damn sure you’re just as insane.” My voice is a low, dangerous growl. “Just as hungry. I want you absolutely begging for my cock. Are you devoted to my cock, Scarlet? How much do you need it? Enough to beg for it?”

  Her eyes flash as she glares over her shoulder at me. She looks furious. Beyond livid. “I’ll never beg for anything from you, Kennedy Benson.”

  And for the first time, I finally feel like I’m seeing what’s beneath every other front Scarlet puts up. There’s something raw and primal in Scarlet right now. Something incredibly angry.

  The raw and primal in me responds.

  I bare my teeth at her and move one hand around her, boldly reaching back underneath her dress again, but this time straight around the front. No pretenses. Anyone looking at us will know exactly what we’re doing. Fuck yes.

  I quickly find that spot that lights my woman up.

  Her mouth drops open as I circle her clit. I press at the same time that I do another dipping tease with just the tip of my cock.