Ruthless Kings - Laura Lee Page 0,89

swig. “This party’s lame. Lemme have another drink or two, and I'll be ready to bounce. You cool with that?"

“Sure.” Kingston’s eyes swing to me. “I have to take a piss. Don’t go anywhere.”

Bentley swings his arm around my shoulders. “Don’t worry, dawg, I’ll keep our girl nice and warm.”

Kingston’s jaw clenches, but he lets it slide. Before walking away, he meets my gaze and mouths, watch him.

I nod in reply.

“So, Jazzy Jazz, wanna talk about something not so fucking depressing?”

I wrap my arm around his middle. “Sure, Bent. What’d you have in mind?”

“You can start by telling me what color your panties are. It’ll help me get a better visual in my brain later.”

Bentley’s obviously using humor as a defense mechanism. After what I learned tonight, I suspect he’s been doing that for a while.

I roll my eyes playfully. “Sorry, bud. You’ll just have to make it up.”

He laughs. “Where’s the fun in that?”

There's a bunch of people suddenly gathering around the TV. I don't think anything of it until the lewd comments start flying.

“Hot damn, look at that body,” one guy says.

“Her tits are a little smaller than I’d like, but I’d still fuck her in a heartbeat,” another one adds.

"No, shit. She deep throats like a damn porn star." I think that was the first guy again. "Can somebody get me a copy of this for the spank bank?"

What the fuck are they watching?

My eyes lift to screen, and when I see what's playing, my jaw slackens.

Bentley obviously sees it at the same time because his grip on me tightens. “What the fuck?”

My face heats as people start laughing and whistling. I think Bentley and I are both in shock because neither one of us moves to stop it. In 70-inch high def, I'm on my knees, blowing Kingston in the shower after Peyton's birthday party. Even worse, there's a clear view of everything. Every. Fucking. Thing. From the angle, it looks like someone was pointing their phone camera at the shower from right inside the doorway.

Kingston picks that moment to return and frowns when he sees our expression. He turns his head to see what’s drawing our attention and immediately charges forward.

“What the fuck is this shit?” Kingston yells. “Turn that shit off! Where the fuck is the remote?”

“Oh, God.” I slam my hand over my mouth.

I can't believe this is happening again. This time it's even worse because no one is protecting my modesty. Every single person in this room has now seen me completely naked. They know what I look like with a goddamn dick in my mouth.

Bentley launches into action then, manually turning the TV off. He’s a little slow due to his inebriation, so it takes much longer than I’d like.

"Oh, look, it's the stars of the show." Peyton sneers, golf clapping as she walks to the center of the gathered audience. "This seems to be a habit of yours." She flicks her finger between Kingston and me. "Are you two, like, trying to become porn stars or something? Or is it an exhibitionist thing?"

Kingston’s fists clench. “Peyton, you’re fucking dead if I find out you had anything to do with this.”

She laughs derisively. “Oh, please. Don’t try to blame me for your deviant tendencies. Why would I ever want to broadcast the whore at work?”

Kingston takes a step forward, but I grab his shirt, and he seems to think better of it.

Bentley’s searching through the media cabinet when he shouts, “Found it!” He holds up a thumb drive.

“Is that the only copy?” Kingston grits out. He’s glaring at Peyton with unadulterated hatred right now. I’m honestly surprised she’s not crumpled in a ball, begging for forgiveness.

“How would I know?” Peyton parks a hand on her hip. “I had nothing to do with this.”

I don’t fucking believe her for one second. Based on Kingston’s expression right now, I’d say he doesn’t either.

Barclay What’s-His-Name starts laughing. “I gotta say, Davenport, I didn’t get it at first, but after seeing how well she sucks cock, I can understand why you’d put up with the trash.” He looks at me and winks. “How much do you charge, honey? I’d like to give it a try.” Barclay puffs his chest out when laughter surrounds us.

I don’t even feel sorry for the bastard when Kingston’s fist flies out and takes Barclay down with one punch. Unfortunately, that single hit also sparks an instant full-on brawl.

“Ah, fuck,” I mutter, right before some Barbie wannabe bitch-slaps me.

Oh, hell, no.