Page 37 of Plaything

“Yes. For now, please eat, drink some water, and go to bed early,” he requested.

I crawled into bed, where Cat was already waiting for me. My eyes shut as soon as my head hit the pillow. I was nervous about tomorrow’s conversation, not knowing what to expect. I was confident that they wanted me just as much as I wanted them; the hopeful gleam in all their eyes made that abundantly clear.

Chapter Seven

Odette

Tuesdays were the one day a week I didn’t have any classes. I usually used the day to study, but today I slept in. Yesterday was exhausting in every way possible. Some good came from it, though.

Wyatt assured me that what happened would stay between us. It further reassured me when my other three professors heard us talking about it but never asked any questions. Now that I was rested and thinking clearly, I could see that the four of them had a lot of respect for my privacy and each other.

I admitted my feelings towards each of them, which made me want to crawl into a hole for the rest of my life. I was word vomiting, rambling every thought that came to mind.

It was embarrassing, but I was oddly proud of my tired (delirious) self for having the courage to talk to them about things I usually wouldn’t. Because now, I’d finally get some answers. I wanted to know why they were okay with each other flirting with me if they liked me themselves. Usually, people would get jealous or resentful. I also wanted to know how they felt; Niko admitted he wanted me. Obviously, Wyatt felt a certain way about me. Aiden stuck his finger in my mouth, and we both liked it. Dominic has also done some flirting.

It might be an awkward conversation because I’d never been good at talking about feelings, especially intimate feelings. I knew it was necessary because I was horribly confused, and I didn’t know if I should feel whorish for liking four men. That wasn’t even considering they were older than me and professors at my university.

I wanted to be with them, and Wyatt was right—I didn’t fully understand what to expect from this, but I wanted to learn. I felt better knowing that whatever they wanted wasn’t the horrible things I saw in the videos... not entirely, at least. Even if that was what they were into, I knew that if I wasn’t comfortable with something, they wouldn’t ask me to do anything I didn’t want to.

I put effort into my outfit again, dressing in an oversized white button-up, a black tank top to go over it, and a short jean skirt.

I wasn’t expecting anyone to be home when I went downstairs because it was ten in the morning, and they had classes.

With that idea in mind, I was surprised to see Dominic, in sweatpants, making pancakes. Triple yummy.

“Good morning,” I greeted.

He turned, eyeing my long legs before his gaze met mine. “Chocolate chips?” He asked quietly, gesturing to the pan with a freshly poured pancake on it.

“Yes, please.” I bit my lip, watching his muscular back move as he sprinkled chocolate chips over the pancake. I took a seat at the counter. “Are you off today?” I asked.

He nodded. “Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

A smile grew on my lips, happy that I got to spend time with him today... if that was what he wanted. For all I knew, he might want to be alone. He didn’t say much, and when he did, it was short and to the point. Out of everyone’s feelings—including my own—I was the most conflicted about his.

He’d shown a little interest in me, but not as much as I selfishly wanted him to. He flirted with me, called me Darling, and agreed that I was ‘very pretty.’ I think he was a quiet person, but I’d like to get to know him more if he allowed me.

“Are the others teaching all day?” I asked.

He turned to look at me. “Why? Does being alone with me make you nervous?”

Incredibly.

“No,” I lied while blushing.

He flipped the pancake onto a plate and set it before me.

His hand was covered in tiny scratches, his knuckles dark red. I pushed my eyebrows together, grabbing his hand and holding it where it was before he could pull away. These bruises weren’t here before. I blinked up at him, remembering how he left the house in a haste last night. “Did you do what I think you did?” I asked.

“He deserved it.”

I looked back down at his hand. “You didn’t have to do that. You could have gotten in trouble,” I stressed, letting go of him.

“What would he do? Tell on me?” He eyed me while laughing once. “Don’t go to his class again,” he ordered.

“Dominic, I can’t just stop going to class because of what happened; I’d fail,” I stressed.

He tilted his head. “You won’t fail; you’re going to get an A in that class regardless of whether you go or not,” he informed.

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