Page 12 of Debt to the Mafia King
“I just need to let off steam, I think.”
“In other words, you need to get laid,” her guest laughed loudly, throwing his head back. “How long has it been? Has there been anyone since Alek?
Why was he asking her that if he was her lover? Unless—, I took a sip of the scotch in my glass, murmuring approval as the burn scolded my throat. He wasn’t a lover, but did he want to be?
I couldn’t imagine any man not looking at her and wanting not to get into her panties.
“Dion,” her cheeks flamed red as she swatted at his head with a cushion, which only made him laugh harder.
I made a mental note to get Ivan to find out everything on this Dion dude. If he was going to be a problem, I wanted to know now. Problems had a way of disappearing when it came to me.
“That will be a no, then. Did you want to go out?” Dion eyed her. “A few drinks? A bit of dancing. Maybe find you a pretty boy.
“I don’t like pretty boys. I like men. Real men.” Leah froze, almost like she hadn’t meant to say that.
I couldn’t help myself, I grinned. “Glad to hear it, Printsessa.” I saluted her with my glass. “Because if a real man is what you want, I’m your guy.”
“Spill,” Dion commanded.
“Nothing to tell.” She stuffed her face with food.
“Oh, don’t give me that, Leah. I’ve known you for two years. You’ve met someone.” He wagged a finger at her. “You like someone.”
“I do not,” she pouted. “It’s nothing like that, and no, I don’t want to go out to get laid. I’ve never been that kind of girl.”
Dion’s eyebrows shot up. “Maybe you should be that kind of girl. A little one-night stand never hurt anyone.”
I downed the amber liquid in my glass and glared at him. It would hurt him if he talked my woman into whoring herself out like that.
“I think I just want to get drunk.”
Dion’s head shot up. “I knew you were going to say that. I grabbed a bottle of vodka on my way.”
Leah’s body jerked, her eyes widening. “No,” her voice was panicked. “Anything but vodka.”
“What’s wrong with vodka?” Dion’s eyebrows waggled. “It’s your go-to drink. Or is it?”
“Bad associations, ok. It just reminds me of—” she shook her head.
Shaking his head, Dion jumped to his feet. “You really do have a thing for Russians, don’t you. I’ll run down to the store and get something else.” He headed towards the door. “Don’t eat my food.”
Surprised, I grinned at her figure. She didn’t want to drink vodka because it reminded her of me. I would have to talk to her about stereotypes. Not all Russians drank vodka. Personally, I prefer scotch, but it was good to see I had gotten under her skin.
Reaching for the decanter, I filled my glass. I sipped it as I watched her eat and lounge back.
“Spread those pretty legs for me,” I whispered, even though she couldn’t hear me. The way she was reclining, if she parted them even a little, I would be able to feast my eyes on the part of her I would soon feast on with my lips.
My cock throbbed so hard that it was trying to rip its way out of my zipper. I took another sip and palmed myself through the thick material. She didn’t, of course, but I could easily imagine the way she would look if she did. All glossy-eyed and parted pink lips.
For the next three hours, I watched her as she drank and laughed with her friend. I watched how he looked at her, how his eyes followed her and softened, and deep down, I knew he was going to be a problem.
“You’re drunk,” Dion’s words were slurred. His head lay on the back of the sofa, and his eyes were closed. “You never could handle your liquor.”
A loudsnore punctured the silence.
“Not as drunk as you, sleeping beauty.” Leah stood and wrapped the throw around him. She gave one glance around, and a tiny line appeared between her eyebrows.
Had she just spotted my camera? Or was this something different?
