Page 9 of Plaything

I pressed my lips together, gently shaking my head at him. Why did people always assume that a woman in a math major is going into business?

“Economics?” He tried again.

Again, I shook my head. “I graduate with a bachelor’s in engineering in the spring.”

Wyatt seemed impressed, leaning forward on the table. “You’re only twenty. How did you manage to do that?”

I barely noticed it, but I saw Aiden and Dominic share a look in my peripheral vision.

I shrugged. “I skipped ninth grade, did a Head Start program where I got my associates at the same time as my high school degree, and now I’m taking six classes a quarter instead of four,” I explained.

Aiden leaned back in his chair. “What do you do for fun?” He questioned, looking uninterested.

At this point, I was convinced Wyatt or Niko must have told him to try to make conversation with me. When he spoke to me, it seemed very forced and I felt annoying.

It was better than Dominic—he just stared. The constant feeling of his eyes burning my skin was eating me alive.

What did I do for fun? Sleep. Most people say that as a joke, but if I got an extra hour or two of sleep, it genuinely made me happier than anything else. I had trouble sleeping, so unless I overdosed on melatonin gummies, I’d be up all night.

I spent a second trying to think of a proper answer that didn’t make me sound lazy. “I’m in club volleyball with a few friends.” I thought of one of my favorite things. “The school has this massive koi pond; sometimes I like to feed them,” I added with a smile. School took up almost all of my time, but I didn’t want to say that in this company and have it mistaken as a complaint.

Wyatt was smiling at me with the softest look in his eyes that made my stomach flutter.

“What about parties and boys?” Dominic deadpanned, giving me a cold stare. Wyatt and Niko gave him a warning glance, and Aiden smirked at me.

This ‘getting to know each other’ dinner just turned into an interrogation.

I blushed. I’d only been to one party, and it was in high school. My father used to throw these dinner parties, and I’d stay in my room, not wanting anything to do with his creepy friends, who always wanted me to hug them.

As far as boys go, my expectations of men plummeted the day I went to that party. I was seventeen, desperate to have a life outside of my father’s constant expectations. So, naturally, I rebelled. I didn’t do it consciously when I was that age, but when I got older, I realized I was acting out.

Instead of experimenting with alcohol, as most high schoolers did, I jumped into bed with Jimmy Erickson. He was sweet, and we were somewhat friends before then. The two of us were in a bedroom with the lights off and the door locked. I wanted to have sex, and he just so happened to be the lucky guy to flirt with me.

Thinking back on it now, it was so stupid of me and insanely immature. And such a disappointment.

I got fucked, and I was still a virgin.

Once our pants were off and he figured out how to put the condom on, he stuck it in... between my thighs.

I was too stunned and embarrassed to tell him because he was really enjoying himself. I remember the bitterness of his hot breath on my face as he panted. He kept saying the same phrase over and over again, ‘Oh babe, you’re so tight.’

Luckily for me, it only lasted three and a half minutes. In the short time, I stared at the ceiling, thinking about how I expected it to go and how it actually went.

Afterward, he cleaned himself up, and I put my pants on as fast as humanly possible, still confused about what had just happened. When we walked out of the room, his jock friends all surrounded him, like he did something wonderful.

I never told anyone what actually happened. I went straight home, only to find out a journalist had already written an article on the ‘scandal of local billionaire’s teenage daughter.’ My private business was plastered all over the internet, mortifying me to my soul.

That was the first and only time my father ever hit me. I walked through the door, only to be met with his scrutinizing glare. He didn’t say anything to me, and he never did. He raised his hand, slapping me across the face.

When I was seventeen, I convinced myself I deserved that slap. I remember feeling so low, so ashamed of myself. The worst part was I didn’t even do anything. Nothing happened. Jimmy Erickson rubbed his four-inch disappointment between my thighs for three minutes, and then we left the room.

Ever since that night, my expectations of men and sex were practically nonexistent. My sex drive was incredibly low (nonexistent, if I was being honest), and my pussy was dryer than the Sahara Desert. I still thought men were attractive sometimes, but then I remembered the disappointment of my one sexual experience, and I just... couldn’t.

Then Niko touched my arm.

For the first time in years, I felt the slightest clench of my abdominal muscles. A feeling I didn’t know I missed. At the same time, it terrified me. He was my professor. I couldn’t feel that way, no matter how much I might want to.

Dominic probably didn’t want me bringing anyone here; he didn’t like students at the university, and I doubt he’d like them in his home.

---