Page 94 of Dirty Damage

“Do you still work with children?”

“Not currently.”

“Ooooh.” Andrea draws out the syllable, pumping it full of meaning. “Maybe you don’t love children as much as you say. You were just biding your time until you could catch a rich husband.”

I’m about to step in and end this shit when Sutton’s bitter laugh stops me cold. “You think I’m with Oleg for his money?” Her blue eyes simmer with ice. “Honey, I’m with him for the sex.”

Andrea’s mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

Silence has never been so fucking beautiful.

I choose this moment to make my entrance. “Good evening, ladies.”

“Oleg.” Sutton’s voice is a caress. She says my name like I’m already inside of her, and fuck, now I wish I was.

She drapes her body against mine, wrapping her hands around my neck.

Then, in front of Andrea and all of our guests, she kisses me.

My amusement gives way to raw desire as her tongue curls into my mouth. I fist the delicate material at her hip, hauling her closer to me, grinding my aching erection against her warmth.

My amusement burns away in the face of raw need. I fist the delicate material at her hip, grinding my aching cock against her heat. She moans into my mouth and I’m seconds away from taking her right here.

On the floor.

Against the wall.

I’ll fill her with my baby in front of these fucking vultures. Let them try to deny the validity of my heir after that.

But then Sutton presses a hand to my chest and eases back.

Her lipstick is smeared, her face flushed. She’s beautifully disheveled as she turns to look for Andrea. But the witch has disappeared.

“Bitch,” Sutton whispers.

I adjust myself, trying to get comfortable when all I want is to be buried inside of her. “I think I might feel used.”

“Sorry, but—Ugh. She thinks she’s so much better than me. She judged me for working and then judged me for not. I should’ve told her that keeping every plastic surgeon in Palm Beach employed isn’t a career.”

I’ve never seen her this worked up. Or so feisty. I’d love nothing more than to channel this heat into something more mutually beneficial for the both of us.

But Sutton whips back to me. “Did you date her?”

I grimace. “Briefly.”

She huffs out a breath and crosses her arms.

“Jealous?”

“Jealous? No. I just didn’t know you were interested in hoity-toity bitches with plastic noses and crooked boob jobs.”

My little kitten has claws. Usually, this kind of territorial display would be my cue to exit stage left. But right now? I’m fucking grinning.

“The boob job came after we broke up.”

“You have them memorized?” she spits. “Were you looking at her chest?”

I reach out and push her hair behind her ear. “You’re cute when you’re territorial.”

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