Page 40 of Plaything

I shook my head, deciding I’d had my fun. I scooped some noodles onto a plate and looked across the counter at him. “I’ve woken up in the neighbor’s backyard, our pool on a floating lounge, a golf course, and a lot of roads,” I chuckled. “It’s a miracle I’m still alive.”

Dominic looked uncomfortable. “How did you manage to do that without Charles noticing you were gone?” He asked.

A wonderful question. “My room was on a different level than his. Most of the time, the neighbors just brought me back,” I dismissed.

Aiden hummed, clearly deep in thought. Here comes the analysis. “That’s severe. Usually, when kids have night terrors, they hide somewhere they know they’re safe,” his eyes flickered up to me. “You were trying to get away.”

Yikes. Didn’t need that slap of honesty.

“Anyway,” I quickly changed the subject, “That was years ago; now I just have to overdose on melatonin if I want to sleep more than four hours.”

We all went to the dining room, plates of delicious food in hand.

“Reading a chapter of your favorite book before bed can help you sleep,” Wyatt advised.

“Drink coffee during the day; you’ll naturally crash at night,” Dominic offered his own solution.

“How many orgasms are you having per week?” Aiden asked.

My skin felt on fire with how hot my blush was. I widened my eyes, dumbfounded that he would ask such a personal question so openly. “What?” I blinked, sure that I misheard him.

Aiden shrugged. “It’s simple science. Orgasms have dozens of benefits, one of them being better sleep,” he said innocently as if we weren’t talking about literal orgasms.

Niko smirked next to me. “I can help with that,” he said quickly.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. This was so embarrassing, not only because my answer was zero—not including what happened with Wyatt—but because I think they somehow knew that. I never mentioned being a virgin; I just told them that my thighs were fucked, not that I’ve never had sex or touched myself. Earlier, Dominic made a comment about my virgin pussy. I wasn’t sure how they knew, but they did.

Wyatt gave Aiden and Niko a stern look, silently scolding them. He raised his eyebrows at me. “Odette, last night you said you have questions for us,” he began, and my palms started to sweat. “We’re happy to answer if you still want to know,” he said kindly, yet his tone was hesitant.

Where did I start?

I fidgeted with my hand under the table and straightened my posture, not wanting to look lazy from slouching. “Well,” I thought. “Reesia said we,” I said slowly. “Meaning more than two people in a relationship,” I added. “Is that what you... do?” I asked, not knowing how to phrase it.

The mood in the room shifted, and all eyes were on me. I felt a strange pressure to ask the right questions, but at the same time, I needed more information to know what I should even ask. I hated letting people down, and Niko gave me the most hopeful look last night.

Wyatt nodded. “Yes. The definition of polyamory. It’s something that we’ve wanted for a long time. It’s not common, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you never heard of it,” he explained in a way that wasn’t awkward.

I raised my eyebrows, not knowing what to think of that. People loved who they loved and were attracted to whatever they wanted, but I was surprised that this group of men swung that way. “Is that why you live together?” I asked.

Wyatt nodded but was soon cut off by Niko, who grabbed the back of my chair and gave me a pointed look. “Do you think we’re gay?” He quickly asked.

I nodded. “Isn’t that what he just—”

“Immediately, no. We are not in a relationship with each other, Cariño,” he quickly explained. “What Wyatt is trying to say is that we all want to share a woman,” he gave me a pointed look for emphasis on the word. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my boys, but not that much,” he joked.

I giggled at his defensiveness. “Noted.” I pushed my eyebrows together and looked at Wyatt. “Why?” I pushed, wanting to understand why one person wasn’t enough for them.

Wyatt rested his elbows on the table. “It’s really just personal preference. There are certainly aspects of it that are more challenging and some that are easier. I know one of the most prominent reasons we want a submissive is to have control,” he paused. “That control could span anywhere from in the bedroom to a sleep schedule, eating habits, or simple things like picking the color of nail polish,” he explained.

“Having several dominants can be overwhelming in a lot of ways for a submissive, which also has to be taken into consideration,” Dominic added, watching me closely.

My mind was racing, trying to wrap my mind around the concepts. “Submissive and dominant are adjectives and words used to describe people. You’re using them as nouns?” I questioned. Some can be submissive, not someone is a submissive.

Wyatt nodded. “Both are correct. It’s just how some people choose to identify. Typically, those who are dominant like to dominate; that’s what we are. Then some people are more submissive, and like other people to dominate them, have others make decisions on their behalf, and ultimately have someone else take care of them emotionally and physically,” he explained.

“And you think I’m one of those people?” I concluded, cutting to the chase.

They all nodded, saying their own versions of ‘yes.’

---