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She couldn't look at them long enough to see what they were thinking.
Chapter Thirteen
Dakota wanted the earth to part so she could be swallowed up in its dark depths.
She was such a pathetic amateur. She lost control and orgasmed because Michael had spanked her, and Preston had pulled her hair. But it had been Zachary, who had merely threatened her with a butt plug, that had triggered her unstoppable climax.
Yup. She was that easy.
The man hadn’t even had a chance to use it on her before she went all bonkers and flew apart.
Embarrassed beyond measure, she awkwardly tried to climb off Michael’s lap, then wobbled gracelessly as she finally stood up. The fabric of her dress reignited the sting on her butt as its hem tumbled down her thighs.
The tiny shard of pride she fervently clung to vanished as she was tasked with the mortifying act of pulling up her wet panties from her knees.
She always imagined she'd be a little sexually inept; she just had no idea it was this much. But it matched everything else going on for her. She was good at nothing. That explained her whole life in one beat.
She could now definitively add anything remotely sexually related to the opposite sex to her list of failings.
She was sure no woman in their history of women had done what she had done, as was obvious by the way they reacted to her.
Loser.
She stole a glance their way. Michael and Preston now stood beside Zachary. She couldn’t read the expressions on their faces.
Were they embarrassed on her behalf because of her cringy response? They wanted answers from her, not unsolicited orgasms.
She wanted to die when she noticed the wet spot on Michael’s gray track pants.
Oh god, kill her now.
She couldn't decide if she should clean up the mess she made on his pants or just let it go, so she did something stupid and made a painful apology instead.
"I’m sorry… Please accept my apologies for the thing on your... pants," she groused on the inside. She should have gone with not acknowledging it and paid more attention to just leaving.
But she didn’t know how to explain the way their jaws tightened, their eyes darkened, and the tension around them thickened with every passing moment.
She had done enough damage to herself. And she could no longer ignore the fact that Michael and Preston had stopped touching her the instant they became aware she was going to come. As if they wanted nothing to do with her or her climax.
Straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin, she pretended as if she still had some pride left.
"I’m going to go," she said loudly to cover up the way she was crumbling up on the inside.
She nodded—for no damn reason whatsoever—and started to head out the door.
A couple of days ago, she had been so desperate that she would have done anything to make sure Jones didn’t kill her, even if it meant she had to pretend to be a nanny.
She would never in a million years have thought she would find herself here, in this condition, ready to burst out crying with a very slim chance of stopping.
She was still nowhere near finding that diamond, so she was as good as dead as she was the night of the poker game, which was the first time she saw them, and her world changed.
She tried so hard to keep her chin up, but by the time she neared the exit, her shoulders had sagged, and her head had dropped.
~~~***~~~
They were not wrong. In fact, they would bet their entire fortune on the fact that they were 100% correct.
Michael glanced at the men who were his family. His only family, even if they were not related by blood.
