Page 129 of Plaything

She could take it. She just needed a little convincing. I meant every word I said earlier; we would fuck her brains out. After tomorrow, there won’t be an unfucked-on surface in this house. The clean-up would be monstrous but entirely worth the fun.

Gazing down at her peacefully sleeping, I almost felt bad for the Doll. She would be thrown to the wolves—hungry, ravenous wolves.

She was deep in sleep, and I had no problem slipping my arm out from under her. She moaned and shifted in her sleep, her hair wildly sprawled out onto the pillows, the blanket pulled down to her ribs, and her arms relaxed above her head. My sleeping beauty.

Stealthily, I quickly slipped from my bed, needing two things. A cigarette, and to inform my friends of tomorrow’s possible complicated conversation. I didn’t usually smoke after sex, but after how good she felt wrapped around me, I needed something to relax me before waking her and beginning our fuckathon early. She needed sleep because she was in for a long day.

As expected, they were in the living room, grading papers. Niko was the first to notice me. “What are you doing down here?” He asked, clearly irked I wasn’t cuddling Odette after sex.

I sighed and grabbed a cigarette and lighter from a drawer by the front door. I didn’t like leaving her either, but there was no harm unless she woke to find me missing—which wouldn’t happen. “She’s out cold. I need to tell you something,” I opened the front door, gesturing for them to join me outside.

Noise carried through this house like air. I didn’t want us to wake her, or better yet, for her to hear the conversation.

Niko rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to brag, dude.”

“Niko.” I shot him a stern glance, showing my seriousness. My tone had them scrunching their eyebrows and setting their paperwork aside to join me.

“Everything okay?” Wyatt asked cautiously.

The cherry of my cigarette lit red as I puffed, and the smoke filling my lungs instantly lessened the need to wake her.

It was late, and the only light was the moonlight, as all the lights in the house were off or not visible from the porch. I was shirtless, but the bite of the cold didn’t bother me.

“Odette has sexual trauma,” I blurted. I never was able to beat around the bush.

Many seconds went by as they stared at me with twisted faces, morphing from sadness to anger, then confusion.

“How do you know?” Wyatt questioned.

“Afterward, she was looking for blood on her thighs, and when she found none, her entire demeanor changed to one of concern. Then, when she saw blood on the sheets, she was relieved,” I explained, halfway done with my cigarette and itching to get back in bed with her. But I needed to prepare them the best I could. “I must have made a face because she told me she’d explain tomorrow,” I finished.

Dominic’s face was stoic. Even with my keen eyes, I saw nothing but a void neutralness that he wore like a mask. His mask didn’t slip, and he said nothing as he opened the door and returned to the house.

The man had a particular distaste for these kinds of topics. He had enough trauma to last ten lifetimes, and I was confident he was boiling with rage. Considering how much he cared for Odette (although he hadn’t entirely accepted his own affections), I couldn’t imagine the thoughts racing through his mind. His anger issues were not to be prodded at; he possessed a fury unlike I’d ever seen before—and I hoped to God he got his hands on whoever (assumably) touched our girl. He knew where to hit them to cause excruciating pain but not fatally harm.

Niko’s shoulders fell. “You’ve overanalyzed before, Aiden. Is there a chance that’s what’s happening here? She had a rough night; maybe that’s what she was referring to when she said she’d tell us.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “She would have told us if she was assaulted, she knows how important it is that we know these things,” he dismissed.

“I don’t think she would have said anything,” Wyatt argued. “If what Aiden said is true, she wouldn’t have told anyone. That’s how she was raised. She doesn’t want to be a bother, she doesn’t want to be pitied, and she doesn’t want help.”

He was right. She’d probably been self-soothing since she was a toddler. The stuffed bears were enough evidence of that. I despised that her initial reaction to almost anything was to cope and deal with it herself. We’d be ignorant to think she dealt with trauma any differently.

Taking my final puff, I turned to go back inside. I said what I needed to say. My movements halted as Dominic stepped out the door again, his phone in his hands. He was calling someone, the phone ringing, waiting to be picked up.

It was nearly three in the morning, and whoever he was insistent on calling probably wouldn’t answer. “Who is that?” I questioned.

Before Dominic could answer, a groggy voice answered. “Dom... do you know what fucking time it is?” Vincent raised his complaint.

Why didn’t I think of that? He was there with her all night. Sure, it may have violated her privacy, but I couldn’t be bothered with caring.

“What happened tonight?” Dominic asked, though it wasn’t a question at all. It was a demand.

Shuffling was heard on the other end as he probably sat up in his bed. He sighed, “What did she tell you?”

“Nothing. Not a Goddamn thing,” Niko blurted, looking convinced that something had happened now, the eerie tone of Vincent confirmed it.

We were putting him in an uncomfortable situation, but if he knew something about our submissive, he knew damn well he should have told us immediately.

“Look, I told her she needed to tell you what happened, or I would. I wasn’t intentionally keeping anything from you; let me make that clear,” he defended. “A little bit after we arrived, she slipped away and went upstairs—I don’t know why or what she was doing. Some creepy fucks had been eyeing her all night, which she was completely oblivious to, by the way,” he warned.

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