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After a moment, Quinton slowly eases out of me and places me back down on my feet. My legs are shaky, and I’m a little dizzy, but I place a hand against the door to steady myself.
The post-orgasm haze has left my mind, and now I’m back to being focused on myself.
“Clean yourself up. You look like a hooker right now.”
“God, you’re an asshole.”
“Yeah, well, you just came on this asshole’s cock, so I’m obviously not that bad.” He’s looking at me like he might come back for seconds.
I turn, shaking my head, and walk out of the stall. It’s then that I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My curls are in disarray, my eyes are hazy, and my cheeks are flushed. We won’t even talk about my dress. As I take a step closer to the mirror, my gaze catches on my throat, where Quinton was teasing me with his tongue and teeth.
Right there for the world to see are his love bites. The ten tiny red marks will fade over time, but definitely not by the end of the evening.
“What the hell?” I whirl around when I see Quinton watching me in the mirror. Again, he is smirking.
“You weren’t complaining as you creamed all over my cock.”
Something inside me snaps. “Why would you do that? You know others are going to be able to see it, right?”
He shrugs. “That’s the point. I want him to see it.”
I grit my teeth and shove at his chest. “I’m not a trophy to be fought over. Marking me is only going to stir the pot and cause problems for me.”
I don’t know why I didn’t stop him. Why I even let him fuck me in this bathroom stall, knowing everyone out in that ballroom knows what we were doing.
“Marking you will show him you’re mine. It will show others you’re unavailable.”
“It will show nothing besides me being mauled by an animal,” I murmur, adjusting my hair quickly to cover the bites as best as I can. I let Quinton leave the bathroom first, and I follow a few minutes later, my knees damn near knocking together with each step I take.
As soon as I reach the table, all eyes are on me. I pretend I can’t feel their stares on my skin. Dropping down into my chair, I shield my face behind my hair and look anywhere but in Quinton’s direction. The servers take our plates from dinner and serve dessert next. My stomach is too twisted for me to eat anything else, so I pass on it.
Matteo is staring at me, his angry glare hot on my skin. Does he know what we did? Do they all know? Of course, they do. Why wouldn’t they? Matteo leans into my side, and even as I try to lean away, he wraps an arm around my shoulder, tugging me into his side.
Hot breath fans against my face. “Do you think I don’t know what you just did in there? That we all don’t know.” He pauses, and my fingers itch to grab a fork and stab him in the eye. “I mean, if your face doesn’t say it, your neck will, right?”
I can feel my cheeks heating with embarrassment. The asshole calls me out right in front of everyone at the table. I’m tempted to look over at Quinton just to see his reaction, but I let my hair continue to act as a curtain of protection.
“Touch me again, and I swear I will stab you in the eye with a fork.”
Matteo lets out a soft laugh. “Damn, you’re feisty. I like it. Can’t wait to see what you do in bed tonight.”
“We are doing nothing!” I snarl and scoot away from him with my chair. My low whispering yell draws the attention of Quinton’s mom. I can see her concerned gaze on me out of the corner of my eye. How did such a kind, quiet woman end up with a man like Xander Rossi? Now that I think about it, I don’t want to know.
Matteo thankfully takes the hint and leaves me alone as the night goes on. The main event of the evening is the auction. Xander gives a grand speech that I try my best not to roll my eyes at. Scarlet and Ella, and even Quinton, watch him with an awestruck look in their eyes.
I hate to admit it, but I’m a little jealous. Jealous of the love they have for each other and jealous of the fact that they’re all together, well, minus Adela. Her disappearance is still a mystery to me.
As the auction comes to an end, I’ve never been happier to escape a room. I’m the first person out of my chair and heading for the door. My exit isn’t as sneaky as I would like it to be since I excuse myself to go to the restroom, which they all know is a lie. I remind myself that all I have to do is make it back to my room, and I’ll be okay.
