Page 9 of Loyalties & Longings

“I’ll be okay. He’s always doing stuff like that,” she adds, brushing it off with those sweet lips pursing disapprovingly.

This makes my blood boil. That shithead needs to learn his goddamn place. If she ever wanted his shriveled-up microdick near her, I’m sure she would have pursued him long ago. But I highly doubt it. She doesn’t seem the type to go for a greasy-looking fucker like him. Nor does she seem like she’d go for someone closer to her father’s age than her own.

Someone clears their throat off to our side, and we both turn our heads to see who it is.

Where the fuck did he come from?

I wonder how long he has been standing there.

“What’s going on here?” Massimo slurs.

Lake’s eyes widen in what appears to be a desperate plea to help her through this encounter.

“Daddy would probably want to know what’s happening here then, wouldn’t he?” Massimo asks with a dirty smirk. What I wouldn’t give to fucking punch it clean off his ugly mug. It might even straighten out that mess he calls a nose.

“What are you doing back here?” I sneer, deliberately not answering his question.

“Checking on what’s taking Lakey so long. She was only meant to be getting us a beer. And what should I find when I see what’s taking so long? You two, cozying up in the hallway,” he says, slurring more and more with each word.

“As a matter of fact, I was just askingLakeif she is okay,” I reply, putting emphasis on saying her actual name and not the stupid pet name he has no right to use. Not even Enzo calls her that. Besides, she is not a fucking pet and deserves to be addressed by her given name.

“Turns out she doesn’t like you ogling her like a piece of meat. Nor does she like that you touch her every time she is within reach of those dirty little mitts of yours. So, I suggest you keep your fucking hands to yourself from now on,” I add through gritted teeth, keeping my voice low. I clench my hands, and Lake squirms in my grasp.

Shit.

I hadn’t realized I was still holding onto her elbows. Dropping my hands quickly, I give her a passing glance, hoping my eyes read as an apology. Probably not, though, because I’m so angry with the shithead standing in the hallway with us.

“Or what? What are you going to do?” Massimo retorts, stepping up to me. He stinks of tobacco and stale beer.

Grabbing the bottles of beer from Lake, I shove them to his chest. “Try it and find out.”

He stumbles back a step. The idiot is so damn drunk andclearly stupid, trying to start shit under Enzo’s roof. He scoffs, takes hold of the bottles, and turns, heading back into the kitchen.

I turn to Lake, who is now standing there looking up at me with an unreadable expression as if she has never had someone stick up for her before.

Nope, that’s not it.

This girl has a fire in her eyes. What I wouldn’t give to be inside that pretty mind. Actually, there’s quite a lot of her I would like to be inside of. My dick tingles as it starts to harden again. Fuck me, I am going to have the bluest balls after tonight as if they weren’t already bad enough.

Lake grabs the tops of my arms, slightly below my shoulders. Pushing herself flush against me, her tits rubbing against my chest, she pulls herself up on tiptoes to whisper in my ear. Damn, it feels good.

“Not that I needed your help, but thank you.” Her lips feather over my earlobe, sending a shiver down my body that goes straight to my balls.

Before my mind has time to process what just happened, she pulls away from me and saunters back to the kitchen with a little sway in her hips, knowing full well my eyes are on her ass. She has left me standing alone in the middle of the hallway with my dick literally and figuratively in my hand as I adjust myself in my jeans.

I am going to fuck her up in the best possible way, and she doesn’t even know it yet.

Chapter Six

Lake

For the first time in what feels like forever, I’m going out tonight. In fact, it has been forever. Well, over a year anyway. I’m excited all the same.

All I have wanted to do for so long is let my hair down and go dancing. So here I am, upstairs in my bedroom, standing in my walk-in closet, trying to decide what to wear. I glance around at the mess I’ve made with my clothes strewn across the floor. I’ve managed to narrow down my choices between a skin-tight, red satin mini dress with ruching on the sides, and a tight, wet-look, black body-con dress. I try on both at least three times, standing in front of the mirror. The perils of being a Pisces—I’m indecisive as heck.

I end up donning the black dress sans underwear. The dress is tight enough to hold my boobs in place so I don’t need a bra. And any panties will definitely give me a visible panty line, which isn’t the best look, so none it is.

I pair the dress with my black combat boots. I much prefer being comfortable over wearing sky-high heels. Knowing me, I’d roll an ankle on the dance floor if I opted for heels. Looking at myself in the full-length mirror, I do a couple of turns before brushing my hands down the dress to make sure it looks okay.

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