Page 29 of Marked By the Pack
“Mhm.” I meant to say it normally. But I was pretty sure that first ‘m’ came out more as a ‘mmmm.’
“Well, what you probably didn’t hear about that story was that Emma’s eyes were on me at the top of the Ferris wheel,” Callum said.
“Were they?” Otto asked. “Huh.” He turned to me. “That’s an important detail, don’t you think?” He circled his thumb around my clit. “To look at the man you want when you come?”
I nodded, instead of trying to say anything normally. His fingers felt so fucking good.
Emma cleared her throat. “Can we maybe not talk about the most humiliating moment of my life?”
Otto laughed. “And why was that humiliating?”
“Because peoplesawme. Clearly.”
“And here I was thinking you liked an audience?”
“No.” Emma’s face had to be scarlet. “Definitely not.”
“What about you, Zoey?” Otto turned to me with his cocky smile. “Do you mind an audience? Because I think it’s kind of hot.”
Why did he keep talking to me when he… I slammed my hand down on the table. “Yes!” God, just like that. I was so close…
I could feel everyone’s eyes on me.
“Yes what?” Otto asked. He pressed his fingers deep inside of me and circled my clit faster.
Part of me wanted to say, ‘yes, sir.’ I shook the thought away. “I think it’s hot,” I said. I was seconds away from coming around his fingers.
He smiled. “Yeah, I thought so.” He pulled his fingers out of me.
Wait.I scooted forward in my chair. I’d been so close. Why had he stopped? I was pretty sure my face was as red as Emma’s had been a moment ago.
“Um…I’m going to go grab dessert.” Even though I was the only one that had scarfed down my whole meal. I just needed a second to calm down. I ran out of the dining room and put my hands on the kitchen island. I took a deep breath.
Why had he done that and then stopped? Was he just trying to prove that I wasn’t the kind of girl someone dated? My heart felt funny in my chest.
“Now, where were we?” Otto asked.
I tried to spin around, but he’d caged me in against the island. My back to his front. “What are you doing?”
“Just because I don’t mind an audience doesn’t mean I always want it.” His fingers trailed back up my thigh.
“I don’t mean that.” Well, I was kind of wondering about that. “Seriously, what are you doing?”
He pushed my thong back to the side, slipping his fingers back inside of me. “What do you think I’m doing? I’m fucking you with my fingers, Zoey.”
I didn’t mean that either!But…God.
“Tell me what you want.” His breath was hot against my ear.
He wanted me to tell him what I wanted? No one had ever asked me what I wanted before. I was paid to give men whattheywanted. Not the other way around.
“Slower?” he asked, his fingers slowing down to a torturous pace.
“Faster,” I moaned.
He kissed the side of my neck and moved his fingers faster. “Like that?”
“Harder.”
