Page 226 of Plaything

Bobbing my head, I dramatically nodded. “See, this I expected,” I giggled. “The hornieness, not so much,” I jokingly cringed.

Bringing his thumbs to my cheeks, he gently wiped underneath my eyes. I probably had mascara stains and dried tears. “If it helps, I don’t think we expected it either,” he grinned. “Everyone reacts differently.”

I zoned out as he attempted to make me look presentable again. His eyes were so pretty... and he had tiny freckles right on the bridge of his nose. The sun must have brought them out in the past week because I hadn’t noticed them before. With how often I ogle over them, I would’ve noticed.

“Can I tell you something?” I whispered.

His attention shifted from my cheeks to my eyes, and he nodded. “Anything.”

I don’t know why the thought popped into my head or even the exact moment I noticed it. “I know you’re not lactose intolerant,” I tattled. It wasn’t something I really paid attention to, but it was clear that he’d lied to make me feel more comfortable on the first day I met them. “You can stop sneaking.”

His brows lifted in surprise as if I hadn’t caught him putting a splash of half-and-half into every cup of coffee for the past three months. “I thought I was doing a pretty decent job at pretending,” he remarked with a boyish grin.

Scrunching my nose, I slowly shook my head. “Not really. I think you’re the sweetest person ever, you know?”

“Ever? Out of all the people?” He exaggerated, poking fun at my high ramblings.

“I do!” I laughed. “Drugs and brain fog aside, I’ve always thought that.”

The front door to the house opened, making my heart hammer as I flicked my head in that direction. “It’s Aiden,” Wyatt comforted immediately. I don’t know why my heart kept jumping like it was, especially considering anyone could’ve come out to see us chatting. “I texted him to bring out some napkins,” he explained.

“Good call,” I nodded, still feeling his cum dripping out of me. I waved to Aiden as he approached with a smile and shook his head.

“Why am I not surprised?” he teased, pulling napkins from his pockets and handing a few to Wyatt and me. “You’ve been gone for twenty minutes—not so subtle,” he winked.

“Hey, did you lose the game?” I changed the subject. He wouldn’t be out here if he were still in.

He nodded. “Niko counts cards,” he deadpanned.

“Does he? Or did he outplay you, mind reader?” I tilted my head at him.

Wyatt lifted me off the hood, setting me on my wobbly legs. “He absolutely does,” he agreed with Aiden.

Wyatt quickly cleaned the mascara off my cheeks as I managed the rest of the mess. “You broke my panties,” I scolded, feeling the bareness under my dress.

“They weren’t serving much purpose anyway, Baby,” Wyatt bantered.

I held both their hands as we walked back to the front door. “Besides the obvious, how are you feeling, Doll?” Aiden asked.

“Starving,” I chirped, making them both laugh.

Once we got back inside, I snuck off to the bathroom immediately, properly getting rid of any evidence of what happened. When I rejoined the group—walking in slow motion for some reason—I was met with expected teasing and innuendos. It was all in good fun, and again, I would have been embarrassed if it was possible to care.

Instead, I just smiled and waved them off. Besides the initial jokes, no one seemed to care about Wyatt and I sneaking off to fool around. Given the people in the group, I wasn’t surprised.

Niko and Reesia seemed to be fighting for their lives in the never-ending game. They had an equal amount of chips, and given their mutual love-hate relationship, they were talking a lot of smack.

I didn’t feel like sitting alone and wanted a better view of Niko to see if he was actually counting cards, so I boldly took a comfortable seat in Dominic’s lap. His big arms immediately wrapped around me, pressing me to his body like he hadn’t seen me for days and missed me.

One of his hands rested on my thigh, the other against my tummy while I casually peeled and ate the clementine I snagged off Jamie’s counter.

“So, boss,” Vincent started from my side. I lifted my brows in intrigue. “Do you have any plans now that you own the Whitlock companies?” He pried.

“I’m not your boss,” I corrected quickly, giving myself time to think of a response. I honestly didn’t know where to start. I knew nothing about owning a business, let alone several hotel chains, investment firms, and a chemical manufacturing company.

Rita Thumborn and I had several phone calls over the past few days, scheduling meetings with the heads of each company. I was overwhelmed by it and felt more than inadequate for the job.

“I’m meeting with the big shots in the next few months... other than that, I don’t know the first thing about any of this. My degree is in engineering,” I admitted.

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