15. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Derek

The elevator music is jarring against the tension that fills the tiny space, which is barely large enough for the four of us.

Thirteen people maximum, my ass.

The metal of the doors is polished within an inch of its life, allowing me to see the other three in its reflection. We're all dressed relatively the same—slacks and button-up shirts. Xavier and Darcy both have the sleeves rolled up to expose their inked forearms.

As the numbers on the display panel increase, the more blood rushes below my belt, like the two things somehow correlate.

Tonight is going to kill off a dry spell we have all been going through. Not so much in terms of sex, because that's not an issue; there is plenty of that for us individually. But in terms of a woman willing to meet all of our needs as a group? We haven't found that in over a year, and that event wasn't satisfying enough for the amount of effort we'd put in to get the night in the first place. Nor had it filled the bank for the intervening time since then.

Hopefully tonight will prove differently.

All of the pictures we've received today indicate that it will be.

Emmy . . . She's gotten to all of us already.

The sassy little brat that put us in our place when we questioned her, telling me everything I needed to know about her.

Yes, she is young.

Yes, she is inexperienced when it comes to the sugar life. And to being a baby girl.

But she is confident when she speaks her mind. She is able to clearly communicate what she wants from us. Which is a major turn on for me—knowing we can trust her responses when we check in with her will allow all of us to settle into our roles with ease tonight.

And then . . .

I hit the brakes on that thought.

No. No and then . Just tonight. A singular event. That is all we're offering and all we will be getting.

She is offering us a service and we are paying her. As much as the SugarLife app likes to dress that up as a mutual exchange of time and gifts, it really boils down to the four of us paying to use this girls body at the same time.

I'm not even going to entertain the thought of something more.

We've been down that road before, and the aftermath nearly broke us apart.

The elevator dings, and slowly the doors open to an empty, nondescript corridor. It looks like any hotel hallway, with wall sconces every few doorways, key card panels, heavy security doors, and symmetrically patterned burgundy carpet that runs the full length.

I rub my thumb over the key card that will gain us entry to our fantasy for the night as I step out of the elevator and make my way down to our room, my three best friends only steps behind me.

She should have received a notification that the first portion of her gift has been paid, confirming our date. She knows what time we will arrive.

As I reach the door with our baby girl on the other side, I glance down at my watch. Six fifty-nine.

I turn to check in on the other three.

Only Hudson looks at me, a smirk on his lips. His normally light-blue eyes are darker, and I can't tell if it's due to the lighting or how excited he is for tonight. He might not be getting the thing he craves the most tonight, but he'll be getting everything else.

No need to scare Emmy off before we can have our fun together.

Xavier's baby face is hard, jaw clenched, as if he's restraining himself. His blond curls tend to trick the women he is with into thinking he is the softer kind of dominant. The kind who is all about caregiving and coaxing their sub into submission.

They would be wrong.

He is the most extreme of the four of us and is usually the hardest to please. Emmy will have her work cut out for her with him.

Darcy meets my eyes with a raised eyebrow. I match his expression and then he gives me a nod.

Not bothering to see if it is perfectly seven o'clock, I hold the piece of white plastic against the scanning plate, waiting for the indicator light to turn green.

It does, with a beep.

Not giving myself a moment to hesitate, I grip the handle, rotate down, and push on the heavy door. I know what the room looks like from the photos Emmy sent us, but I'm unprepared for the vibe.

She has dimmed the lights, and there is a sensual music video playing quietly on the TV.

But what really captures my attention is the back of the girl kneeling on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, the tips of her toes appearing beneath her black lace-covered bottom, long brown hair almost tickling said toes, as she hunches over something.

That is one outfit she definitely didn't send us a picture of.

I make room for my friends, and it's not until the door clicks shut behind us that Emmy reacts to our presence.

When she whirls around, I catch my breath, because fuck. Even with all the pictures she sent today, I'm unprepared. Her face wasn't completely revealed in any of them, but we could tell that she was attractive, beautiful, even. Which, I won't lie, had left me somewhat skeptical.

It wouldn't be the first time a SugarLife account has tried to scam us.

But Emmy is real. And she is fucking gorgeous. And young. So fucking young. The smile on her face makes something inside of me snap. Joy lights up her entire being as she drops whatever is in her hand and rushes to stand up.

I almost lose my grip on my control and groan out loud.

Motherfucker.

The outfit she is wearing is . . . sinful, and not at all appropriate for a baby girl.

Delicious.

She's a goddamned wrapped present, with nothing but a satin bow covering her breasts. My eyes rake over her, taking in the way her waist dips the tiniest amount. Gaze trailing down farther, I can tell there is something odd about the crotch of the lingerie, but I'm distracted by her voice.

"Daddies! You're here." She rushes up to us, her hands stretched out. "Come and look at what I made!"

She captures my hand and Hudson's and starts to tug us in the direction of the love seat.

I glance at Hudson, and he stares back at me, wide-eyed. He must feel it too. This swooping feeling.

I'm off-kilter.

And with every step, my cock is getting harder.

I've never had a play start like this before, like we are mid scene and are the puppets, not the masters.

Emmy's smile doesn't disappear as she drags us closer to what she wants us to see. "Come on, it's perfect. You'll see."

Somehow, I find my voice, clearing my throat before I speak. "I'm sure it's perfect, baby. I can't wait to see."

She beams, then drops our hands, turns to the side, and points at the coffee table in a ta-da motion.

I drop my gaze to where she points, and a smile spreads across my lips.

A partially completed blue kitten.

It's clearly done with crayons, but where a child's strokes would be haphazard and disjointed in an attempt to fill the entire outline, hers are done with purpose. The fur of the cat moves in slightly curved strokes, with several hues and thicknesses.

The drawing is perfect, and if we had any plans to ask her for more than just this one night, I would keep that picture in my office to view whenever I needed.

"Well, what do you think?"

I turn my focus from the artwork to her, still feeling like I'm at a disadvantage, and have to smother a laugh as she glares up at the four of us, her hands on her hips. And I do mean up . We have close to a foot on her. And she definitely didn't lie about her age.

She's barely legal.

And adorable.

Knowing that her SugarLife profile has a verification badge proving that she is eighteen is the only thing that keeps me in the room.

And the fact that breaking her down to her very core is going to be an absolute fucking pleasure.

Darcy steps forward and crouches down to take a look, his hand adjusting the drawing so that it faces him more directly. "Emmy, this is perfect."

He looks up at her with a smile, and she melts, suddenly looking a little sheepish, hands coming together to wring her fingers. "It's not finished yet."

His lips quirk. "That's okay, maybe you can finish it after?"

She pauses, her chest rising and falling as his words hit her. I can see it, the moment when she considers leaving, that little kernel of self-preservation.

The room stills as colors from the television flash over the five of us in the dim lighting.

Did she fall out of the scene?

Will she leave?

Is being confronted with the four men who she has been teasing all day, through the safety of her screen, too much for her in reality?

But then she nods, her features softening as she slips back into her role.

Wanting to reward her for sticking with us, I step closer, drawing her back to my chest with my hands on her hips. She rests against me, and I lean down to whisper in her ear.

"Do you remember what good girls get?"

She shivers in my arms, and I can't help but press my hard-as-steel cock against her ass.

"Rewards," she replies in a whispery voice.

My friends move about the room, taking seats wherever they can, as I take control of our baby girl. Tonight isn't about any one of us getting our specific kinks met; it's more about the group play with a baby girl. I don't even begin to let myself imagine Emmy restrained and helpless, begging for release, as my friends take her over and over again as I sit back and watch.

No.

Tonight is about mutual, mostly vanilla, satisfaction for all.

Nothing more.

Maybe a little more. We'll see where the night takes us.

"What would you like your reward to be for coloring us such a perfect kitten?"

I keep my words low and trail one hand down over her hip, my fingertips spanning from her belly button, to the bare skin of the opposite thigh, and to just above the apex of her thighs. She sucks in a breath, and I move my other hand in the opposite direction, gliding it over the satin of the bow, over the swell of her breasts, until I can cup the base of her throat.

"A kiss," she replies breathlessly, tilting her head back as she instinctively tries to avoid the threat.

I tighten my hand enough that the erratic fluttering of her pulse fills my palm. "From who?"

"From all of you."

I breathe in the scent of her, pressing my face into the side of her neck. She smells clean, freshly washed, but free of chemicals. No perfume or overpowering body wash. There is a hint of something else, something I'm sure is just her.

No overdone makeup to hide her blue eyes from us. No overpowering perfume to increase her age.

And I fucking love that she has kept everything simple.

The attention to detail is perfect.

I turn us both and point her in the direction of Darcy, who has propped himself against the edge of the table. "Whatever my baby asks for, my baby gets."

Then I take a seat next to Xavier on the couch and get ready for my show.