Page 53 of Vicious

“Nice,” Drake says.

Chase walks over to me and places a hand on the small of my back, keeping me bent over as he tugs on the tail just enough to make the plug move inside me.

I don’t know if the anger or the humiliation is stronger. Either way, I bite down on my lip to keep from making any sounds.

I refuse to let these pigs see just how much they’re affecting me.

From my position, I have a good view of Stef, still kneeling at Hunter’s legs. She isn’t even looking at me, though. She’s hiding her face against his thigh, and he’s stroking her hair. His look isn’t amused or hungry; no, Hunter looks like he just sucked on a lemon. It makes me want to provoke him, though I don’t know if he’d take it out on her.

Better to be safe and keep their attention on me because I’m not some weak, broken thing who’ll hide instead of showing her real personality.

Assuming she still has one. Ugh.

Chase slaps my ass and lets go of me. “All right, back to serving us, Kitty May. The drinks are still in the kitchen. Try not to spill.”

I stand up in a hurry, glad to stop displaying myself so prominently, and I don’t even argue with the order to get drinks. I stay in the kitchen for a moment, though, trying to gather myself.

The anger has melted back into humiliation, which has a distinct edge of fear because I think that Drake really would’ve helped force that plug inside of me if I hadn’t cooperated.

I think Chase would’ve let him.

Hunter… I don’t know what to make of him and his blatant disapproval, but he’s still an unknown.

“It’s not even fair,” I hear Drake grumbling from the other room.

“Pavone has plenty of girls,” Chase answers. “For the right buyer. Hunter and I would vouch for you.”

Vouch for him. Like Giulio Pavone gives a damn about any of the girls he sells. I roll my eyes, going for nonchalant as I grab the drinks, but the glasses slosh as I bring them back into the room. Drake and Chase are each on a separate chair, with Hunter on the couch opposite them.

Chase raises his eyebrows at me. “Is that how you served when you were catering? No wonder they fired you.”

I don’t retort that the only reason I’m being so sloppy is because he and his friends have successfully rattled me. “Sorry,” I say, making it perfectly clear that I’m not sorry at all. “Who gets what?”

Drake leans in, leering at me like the pathetic asshole he is. Unlike Chase, it’s pretty clear why he’d have to buy a woman. I doubt anyone could stand him for long enough to stick around otherwise. “Gin and tonic for me, pretty kitty.”

I dutifully bring the drink over to him, trying to ignore the way the plug shifts inside of me.

“The rum,” Hunter says curtly. “And water for Stef.”

The woman still hasn’t spoken a single word, and she doesn’t look at me until I clear my throat. Her eyes are a little wet, and I realize she’s been crying.

What the fuck?

Even though I offer the water to her, it’s Hunter who takes it, and he holds it for her so she can take a sip.

My lip curls slightly in distaste.

“Hmm. The food is still way over there on the table,” Chase says. “Take the tray and see if any of the guests want anything.”

I give him another death glare, to which he only gives me a sunny smile.

I guess serving them is better than being some broken doll, so I grit my teeth and put on another smile as I go to Drake first. He’s more interested in staring at my chest, and I’m sure that if Chase wasn’t there to keep him in check, he’d be touching me. He takes a few of the snacks—sticking to the meat and cheese—and I move away before his lecherous looks can get to me much more.

Like with the drinks, Hunter takes the appetizers for both himself and Stef, and I turn away when she starts eating out of his hand. I look at Chase with irritation, wanting to say that I’ll never be that sort of broken thing but not wanting to actually upset her.

Chase pats his thigh. “Bring the tray over here. I’ll feed you a few snacks too, Kitty May.”

I get closer to him and mutter so only he can hear me, “You try that, and I will bite your fingers off.”

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