Page 96 of Plaything

Deciding I needed to leave before I showed my desperation any more than I already had, I grabbed my bag off the floor. My heels clicked as I walked to the door. I turned, just before I turned the handle, “See you at home!” I said in a cheery tone, more jovial than he was expecting.

I knew he’d have to wait for his boner to die down before leaving that room. I hoped it would give him time to consider how this teasing benefited no one. With any luck, he’d tell the others how close he was to giving in, and they’d agree that the teasing should end.

It was nearing three o’clock after four classes and an hour of studying. I’d gotten several assignments done but found myself lacking focus. My earlier tutoring session with Aiden had lingering effects. A constant replay of the morning’s events repeatedly played in my mind. Every time I thought about his dick in my mouth, arousal flooded me.

I was finished for the day and ready to go home. However, my professors wouldn’t be home until after five, so I felt a strange sense of impatience. That impatience led me to the school website and professors’ office hours.

Lucky for me, Wyatt was free for the next hour. He had office hours from three to four on Mondays and Fridays.

I didn’t know what I had planned, but I found myself standing outside his office. With my hand balled in a fist, I knocked on his door thrice, hoping there wouldn’t be another student in there to occupy his time.

“Come in,” Wyatt called from the other side of the door.

Turning the handle, I slowly stepped inside his office. The room was dimly lit; a few lamps illuminated the room. The overhead lights were off, and his windows were closed. It was neat and tidy, with books on every shelf.

Wyatt was sitting at his desk with what seemed like a hundred papers messily sprawled out across it. He looked distracted as he glanced up at me before looking back down. “What can I—” his inquiry was shut down quickly as he looked back up at me, worry written across his eyebrows. “Odette, is everything okay?”

I closed the door behind me and smiled at him. “Everything’s fine,” I assured. I lingered by his door, trying to think of a good excuse besides, I just wanted to see you. “I’m about to go home. I was going to make dinner since you all work late. Any requests?”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. A playful smile crossed his lips. “What can you make?” He teased.

Ouch. I laughed, trekking further into the room. I walked to his side of the desk and leaned against the corner. “Cereal, pasta—as long as the sauce comes in a jar—sandwiches...” My eyes wondered as I reconsidered my diet over the past few years at college. “And probably chopped vegetables with some kind of dipping sauce.”

Wyatt’s hearty laugh was music to my ears. “Very balanced,” he said, gently shaking his head. “We’ll like whatever you make, Baby.”

“That’s awfully brave of you,” I teased.

He barely spared a glance at his closed door before he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me into his lap. My legs were dangling over the armrest of his chair, and my arms instinctually wrapped around his shoulders for support. “Even if we didn’t like your cooking, we would still eat it with a smile.”

“Liars,” I widened my eyes with false shock.

“A white lie at the expense of your feelings,” he assured with a toothy smile. His finger drew small patterns on my thigh as he spoke. “My mama always said there are three things a woman never wants to hear: Comments on her gift wrapping, her appetite, and criticism on her cooking.”

“I’m guessing you’re as close with your mom as you are with your dad?” I assumed.

“As much as it pains me as an adult to admit, they’re my closest friends.” He shrugged, “Besides Aiden and Dominic.”

I flicked his shoulder. “And...”

“Niko’s okay, too,” he joked.

“I envy that,” I confessed with a smile. People like Wyatt, who had good relationships with their family and a few close friends, didn’t know how lucky they were.

“You’ve never mentioned your mom,” Wyatt pried gently.

With a shrug, I pressed my lips together in thought. “There’s nothing to tell. Whoever she is, she was never in the picture. Of course, there are rumors that she was a Vegas hooker. Other rumors said that she was just a normal woman. Charles mentioned her a few times, just saying that they no longer have contact, and she wanted nothing to do with being a mom,” I explained.

“A Vegas hooker?” He repeated. There was no judgment in his tone; it was pure curiosity.

“Before Charles worked his magic to get that out of the media, I remember being little, and one of my friends telling me that their dad read that in a newspaper,” I recalled. Of course, I had no idea what a hooker even was, and Charles was furious that I had even used the word.

Wyatt listened intently, hanging on to every word I said. “You don’t seem sad that you never knew your mom,” he observed.

I smiled. “I’m not sad. Whoever she was, she escaped. Charles has been married countless times; I think he’s on wife number eleven or twelve? Each of those women and their children (if they had any) realized how horrible he was. None of his marriages lasted more than two years. I’ve always envied them because they were able to get away from him. As his only biological child—and believe me, he had me tested several times—I’m stuck.”

It was quiet for several seconds as Wyatt looked at me. I could see the pity hiding behind his eyes, but he was making a great effort not to let it show. Just as I began to feel uncomfortable with the amount I’d shared, he gave me a gentle smile. “At least you’ve got a big family?”

I nodded, “I liked wife number four and wife number six a lot. They still text me every now and then, but they stay away for the most part now, with their own lives.”

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