Chapter 42

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

LAYLA

"It's just Jorge," he mocks as I let him in. "Isn't that a fucking greeting?"

Stretching onto my toes, I wrap my arms around his neck and give him a tight hug. This has been the longest I've gone without seeing him in years. "Sulk and I won't introduce you to all of his brothers," I whisper as he squeezes me back.

"Don't play with me." He grips me a little tighter, lifts me from my feet, and carries me inside.

"Guys, this is Jorge." I slip my arm into the crook of his and pull him toward the buffet of men he has so eagerly been waiting to meet. "Jorge, this is Liam, Connor, Declan, Finnigan?—"

"Finn," he sternly corrects me. "Even if she refuses and continues to call me Finnigan, it's Finn."

"And Tristan." I slip my arm from Jorge's and into Tristan's .

The door to the lounge pulls open, and Tristan quickly wraps his arm around my waist and yanks me tightly to him. A young guy with a couple of plastic bags crosses through the threshold, and Tristan softens his near-painful hold.

Conor grabs the food from the delivery guy and locks the door when he leaves. I climb onto the barstool beside Tristan as he exchanges pleasantries with Jorge.

"You two enjoy your lunch." Tristan rubs his hand over my back as his brothers disappear into the club. "And go easy on the margaritas."

I nod in agreement, and he murmurs, "Good girl," before leaving us to the buffet of Mexican food he ordered.

"Good girl?" Jorge prompts.

"Don't knock it." I pour us both a margarita. "At least not until you've had some guy whisper in your ear what a good little boy you are as he makes you come."

"I want that." Jorge playfully pouts.

"Exactly." I dive into the chips and salsa.

"How in all of our conversations did you not tell me you are literally sitting on a harem of GQ men?" He pauses to take a drink. "Are all of them…" He begins to measure imaginary dicks with his hands.

"I don't know." I slap his arm. "It's not like I'm fucking all of them."

"So you aren't totally God's favorite then?" he chuckles .

After giving me shit and gushing over Tristan's brothers for a bit, I break the news to Jorge. "I'm moving into his place."

He stares back at me in disbelief without saying a word, which is pretty much what I expected. This is so unlike me; he's probably wondering if Tristan has brainwashed me.

I don't wait for his reaction before continuing, "I know it's crazy, but I agree with him. It's the best way for me to see if being a submissive is really for me."

"I only care about one thing." Jorge is blunt. "Are you happy?"

"Yes." I can feel the smile spread across my face when I answer. "I am. I can't explain it. Learning to submit and entrusting him with…everything. It's…um…"

"Orgasmic," Jorge jests.

"I mean, yes." I laugh. "That, too."

"That's all I care about." He squeezes my hand.

Finn throws back another shot of whiskey and slams his shot glass on the table. Everyone jokes about the way Irishmen can drink, but damn, if these boys don't prove it.

Finn, Conor, Liam, and Declan have been tossing back shots since Jorge left. Enough that had I been drinking with them, I would have passed out hours ago. They're loud and a little more rambunctious than earlier, but they otherwise seem to have their wits about them .

Tristan takes a sip of the glass before him and slides me from his lap, where I've been sitting all evening. "I think it's time I get you out of here before these blokes get out of hand.

"Try not to get in too much trouble." He garners the attention of his brothers as they pour another round of shots. "I'm going to take the Tahoe."

The moment he climbs into the SUV with me, he bunches my dress into my lap to place his hand directly on my thigh. He holds it with a firm gentleness as he drives.

"How did you like being watched?" he asks as his hand roams a little higher on my thigh. I hesitate to answer, worried that my honesty will upset him. When I don't answer he nudges, "It's okay that you liked it, mo cuishle . If I weren't okay with them watching, I never would have corrected you in front of them."

"It's taboo…" I answer lightly. "Everything I've ever been told about sex is that it's private. Having them watch feels wrong, but in a way that's exciting."

Tristan pulls into a parking garage. We drive up the levels in silence until we reach the top floor and pull into a reserved parking spot. He turns off the car and gives my thigh a gentle squeeze. "That's what I wanted to hear."