Page 2 of Mabilia

“Turn twenty-one,” he says.

“Tommy, baby, how long you gonna leave me waiting over here?” a screechy voice calls out from the other side of the room.

Tommy flinches. It’s subtle, but I notice it. “I’ll be there in a sec, Juliet,” he calls back without taking his eyes off me. “So, how many years is it before you can show me that ID?”

“You know you’re not supposed to ever ask a woman her age, right?” I smile at him.

“Are you a woman yet, though?” he counters.

Leaning on the bar, I rest my elbows on the veneer top while my arms push my chest together and up. Tommy’s eyes drift down to my cleavage before he lifts them to meet my own again.

“Honey, I’m more woman than you’ll ever be able to handle,” I whisper. I close the distance and kiss his cheek before climbing down off my stool and picking up my bag.

“Come on, Tommy. Stop playing around with jailbait whores and come over here,” the same whiney fucking voice calls out again. And like any good Valentino or Petrov, I see fucking red.

Chapter Two

One second, she’s in front of me. The next, she’s on top of Juliet, slamming the chick’s head into the bar top. I get to Mabilia just as she picks up a bottle of tequila and smashes it on a bar stool before holding the broken edge to Juliet’s neck.

I snatch the glass out of Mabilia’s hand and wrap my other arm around her waist, pulling her off Juliet, who is now slumped unconscious on the bar.

“Let me go. I’m going to fucking kill the bitch!” Mabilia yells while struggling against my hold.

“Calm the fuck down,” I growl in her ear before dragging her away from the front of the bar. Eventually, I get her into the back office. I slam the door and let her go, mindful to block her only exit now that she’s free to cause more destruction.

Mabilia tilts her head and stares at me. “I could kill you with just the things in this room. Move out of my fucking way before I need to offer you a demonstration you won’t live to remember.”

Who the fuck is this chick? And why is my dick hard as she’s threatening to kill me?

“You still want that drink?” I ask her.

“What? No, what I want is to go back out there and finish what I started!” she hisses.

“Yeah, that’s not happening. I don’t need my bar turned into a crime scene,” I tell her before walking over to the minibar and pouring two glasses of Cinque into crystal tumblers. This is some of the best whiskey in the world, distilled in Australia by the De Bellis Brothers, a known crime family. “Here. Drink this and calm down.” I pass the girl a glass while keeping one for myself.

“Suddenly I’m old enough to drink?” she asks, even though she’s already snatching the glass from my hand and downing the contents.

“Oh, I know you’re not, but this here is an office, not a licensed establishment,” I tell her. “How old are you, Mabilia?”

“How old are you?” she fires back.

“Twenty.”

“Eighteen,” she says.

Of course, she’s fucking eighteen. I’ve got a hard-on for an eighteen-year-old kid. Damn it.

“Before you freak out, it’s two years, Tommy, not twenty,” she says.

“Why would I freak out over your age?” I ask her.

“Because you want to fuck me, and you’re worried about me being younger than you are.” She sets her glass down while never taking her eyes off me. “The question is… are you gonna do it?”

“Am I gonna do what?”

“Fuck me?” Mabilia reaches behind her back, and I hear the zipper of her dress being pulled down.

“You want me to fuck you, babe? Bend you over this desk right here and treat you like a whore? Or would you rather I lay you down on that sofa over there and make love to you? Take my time worshiping that body of yours like it was made to be worshipped.”

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