16. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Emery

The warmth of his body leaves my back, and I'm left standing in the middle of the room, facing a gorgeous man. Slowly, I glance at each of the other men and fight the urge to fidget under their intense stares.

Nerves flood my system at being the center of so much alpha male attention. It's a stark contrast to the relief I was feeling only a minute ago, when my first glimpse of them confirmed that they are the men in the photos. The difference between the faces in the photos and the faces in this room is the look of hunger they're all wearing.

I've seen that look enough times to know that these men are going to use my body for their own needs, and I'm fine with that. It's why I'm here. And even if they cheat me out of the remaining money, I'm still five grand richer than I was, and that's way more money than Tray ever gave me. If he gave any at all.

The man I now face screams tortured artist and my soul aches, like it's found a match for the pain that surrounds it every time I look at a pencil. His long brown hair has natural highlights and is pulled up and away in a stylishly messy bun, which only draws attention to the way his dark blue eyes burn for me. Watch me. Wait for me.

It occurs to me that I may need to make the first move here.

He doesn't move, beyond breathing. His straight, dark brows lend a menacing quality to his features, which goes with the slightly-longer-than-stubble beard that frames his mouth and jaw.

I've never had to make the first move before. Usually, the man would approach me. Sometimes, he skimmed his mouth over my neck in what was probably supposed to be a sexy way but was way off the mark. At least those guys tried to make it good for me. There hadn't been many of them, though.

Typically, the door would close, and they would tell me to remove my clothes, lie on my back, and spread my legs. Nothing beyond the use of a condom for prep, and then it was over a few minutes later. Some came in the condom, but most pulled out and shot their load all over me. Very few offered to help clean me up.

This is neither of those situations.

The way he smirks at me, eyes filled with a dark glint, says I need to make my mind up soon. "Changed your mind, princess?"

I almost scoff.

I'm no one's fucking princess.

I'm also not this blushing, innocent virgin. And I have no idea why I'm acting so fucking timid.

This is just sex. I'll spread my legs, they'll fuck me, and then I'll get what's mine.

This is no different to any other time.

Actually, one thing is different. This time, I'm the one who will be getting paid.

My mind does some quick math, and I almost laugh out loud when I calculate what my hourly rate will be. Three-thousand-three-hundred-and-thirty-three dollars, assuming this lasts three hours.

That equates to over six-million dollars a year as a salary.

Reminding myself that the money isn't mine yet, I refocus on the here and now. I make eye contact with the gorgeous man and take a deep breath. This is the daddy who liked my drawing. He told me it was perfect, and it made me feel so good inside, but then I had to tell the truth that it wasn't finished. But he'd smiled and told me I could finish it after.

Forcing one foot in front of the other, I walk toward where he leans against the end of the dining table, his hands wrapped around the edge either side of his thighs, and his smirk slowly fades.

I have no idea what expression I'm wearing, but as soon as I'm within touching range, I reach toward the side of his face, tracing a finger down from his eyebrow to his cheek. I don't break eye contact, not even when his hands close around my hips and I step between his parted legs, suddenly feeling tiny and delicate.

I'm not sure what I'm doing, I just follow my instincts. Bracing my hands against his chest, I lean forward until my lower body presses into his. The hard impression of his dick pushes against my lower stomach.

His gaze burns a path across my face and I let him look.

I know what he's seeing. Oversized almond-shaped hazel eyes, dark brows, high cheekbones, and my perfectly styled, loose, wavy dark brown hair. Not to mention the freckles across the bridge of my nose caused by the summer sun, which I know make me look younger than I am.

I'm a goddamn baby girl wet dream, and he is a fallen angel.

But the longer I stand there, staring at him, the higher the precipice I stand on grows, and I know that the moment my lips touch his will be my undoing.

I thrust that thought out of my head and lean forward, my eyelashes fluttering shut as I press my lips to his. He doesn't immediately engage in the kiss, so I grind my lower body into his and lick across his lips.

His fingers tighten, leaving divots in my ass cheeks, and warmth builds in my thighs as I lose control of the kiss. His tongue joins mine, and I'm swept into him as he devours me.

I want to press closer, want to lean into him, but the hold he has on me keeps me locked in place.

Before I'm ready, he pulls back, and that fucking smirk is on his lips again. I realize he baited me to get what he wanted.

I scowl at him, and he grins before he whispers quietly, "I'll always give you what you need, princess, but it will always come at a cost."

Confused, I stare back at him, but before I can ask any questions, his hand grips my jaw, and he forces another kiss on me, the pressure on my face one step away from painful.

When he lets go, he turns me, then thrusts me in the direction of the blond man. I catch myself before I stumble into him. His seat on one of the chairs at the table gave him a front-row view of my kiss with Angel.

My lips still tingle as I stare into his icy blue eyes, so much lighter than Angel's. I'm sure his smile is supposed to soften the look in his eyes, but they remain hard, almost cold, like he is assessing me and finds me wanting.

The next beat of my heart is painful, like I'm in trouble and know I'm about to be punished, but I have no idea what I've done wrong.

Fake smile still in place, he offers me his hand, and I get the feeling that I'm being lured into the viper's den. One misstep, and I'll be filled with enough poison to make my heart stop.

"Hey, kitten," he says quietly, using both hands to draw me into him. Standing between his spread thighs, I'm slightly taller than him, but he positions me to sit on one of his legs. I sit up straight, unsure where to place my hands.

I've never sat on anyone's lap like this, except for Tray's. But he would have me wrapped around him, usually with his hand down the back of my pants, cupping my ass for everyone to see.

My breath catches as this daddy's hand lands on my bare upper thigh, fingers incredibly close to the slit in the lace that will allow him direct access to my pussy. The heat that Angel started is stoked by Viper's teasing fingers as they draw light circles on the tender flesh.

Trying to breathe normally, I look into his eyes and wonder if he wants me to make the first move as well.

It's as though he can read my mind. His gaze drops down to my lips, flicks back up to mine, before looking down again as he uses the arm supporting my back to pull me toward him. I go willingly, wrapping one arm around the back of his neck and placing the other on his chest to help me balance.

His lips are gentle, teasing at mine, as if he is trying to find the taste of his friend. But I'm barely concentrating on that sensation, letting him do as he likes to my mouth, because my entire focus is on his hand as it smooths up and down my thigh. It's not the motion that has me so transfixed but the pressure and the digging in of his fingertips, which are surely leaving behind red lines deep enough to bruise.

He smooths the ache away on the upward slide, but continues the torture on the down stroke until my skin starts to protest and he feels me squirming in his lap. My eyes fly open, and I pull back from the kiss when I feel the hard length of him against my hip.

Is he hard from hurting me?

The ice in his eyes is darkened by the mocking look on his face. "What? Do you think we are going to make things easy on you? Dirty baby girls who whore themselves out for cash don't get to complain about a little pain."

I blink at him. And blink again. Dirty baby girl?

A little pain? Does that mean he's going to cause more?

My throat locks up, and I squeeze my thighs together as a heavy feeling unfurls in my core. Words don't come. And even if they did, I don't know what they would be. Lust is making my mind fuzzy.

Before my thoughts start to unravel themselves, he pulls me up to standing and tips his head in the direction of the man with the blond curls. "Go to your next daddy, unless you want to end things now?"

I glance over my shoulder at the blond man, who stares back at me with a blank expression, arms thrown wide over the back of the couch and the armrest to his right. Viper stands up, holding on to my waist and crowding into my space as he leans down to whisper in my ear. "Are you going to be a bad girl for us, or are you going to scamper away like a scared little mouse? Are you going to take what we give you, or are you going to scurry away and not find out what we have to offer? Are you a good girl or a bad girl?"

Returning my gaze to his, I do my best to push away the haze that has fallen over my mind with his words. The way he says good girl seems like it's a bad thing, that they want a bad girl. But their messages have been about a good girl.

Viper's eyes give me nothing.

But it doesn't really matter, does it? Whether I want to be a good or bad girl. Ultimately, what it comes down to is whether or not I am willing to stay.

And I am.

Just like Viper said.

I'm whoring myself out for cash.

My future. My dreams of my own house and a stable life.

That's what this is about.

With that decided, I pivot on the spot but don't make it far, since Viper's hands still encircle my waist.

He leans down, his warm breath ghosting over my cheek as he talks in my ear again. "Good girl, go be bad for us."

My pulse spikes at the use of good girl .

I focus on the daddy in front of me, the colors emitted by the TV screen flashing over his face as he watches me approach. He doesn't move a single muscle as I take a few steps to the space between his feet. Looking down at him feels wrong, and I have the crazy urge to kneel between his spread thighs.

We stay like that, staring at each other—him lounging back with his arms and legs wide, the blond curls leaving him with a boyish look that is completely and utterly destroyed by the ruinous look in his eyes. Nervousness creeps in, but I can't bring myself to break eye contact; it's like I am trapped and can't save myself.

I have no idea what he wants from me.

What if I don't have what he wants?

What if he calls an end to the night, and I haven't provided sufficient satisfaction?

Not knowing what else to do, I give in to my urge and lower myself to my knees. The moment my knee hits the carpet, he sharpens; his focus, his body language, everything about him becomes tight. But he remains motionless.

Tucking both my feet beneath me, I lower until I sit on my heels and place both my hands on my knees, simply following my instincts. When I'm settled, I keep my head lowered and peek up at him through my eyelashes.

A muscle in his jaw ticks as he stares back at me.

A predator studying his prey.

A hunter.

In a controlled motion, he leans forward and raises his hand to my face. I close my eyes and brace for the impact of his hand landing on my cheek. I jolt, pulse racing, when all I feel are fingertips as they skate over my cheekbone, up and over my ear, and then to the base of my skull and into my hair.

Where his fingers tighten, forming a fist amongst my hair. Tension immediately fills my scalp, and I gasp out in shock.

"Look at me," he orders, his deep voice barely above a murmur, but that doesn't remove the undercurrent of steel from it.

My eyes fly open at the command, and I find him only a few inches away from my face. His gaze darts between my eyes before he uses the grip on my hair to tilt my head even farther back, extending my neck uncomfortably.

The heavy feeling in my stomach grows hot, causing a wave of confusion to rise inside of me.

What the hell is going on?

Why isn't my flight instinct kicking in?

Why am I letting him do this to me?

Why is my pussy throbbing from this?

I've been manhandled, and worse, before, but it's never turned me on like this. Not once.

My hands remain on my knees, not even twitching in an attempt to save me. Nope. All survival instinct has left the room.

Something on my face causes Hunter to smile down at me. A tiny thread of relief starts to unravel in my chest, but it's cut short when he closes the distance between us and crashes his lips into mine.

My lips part under the onslaught, and I barely keep up with the way he controls the kiss. His grip on my hair tightens, and then there is pressure dragging me up until I'm kneeling. He softens the kiss, allowing our tongues to move back and forth. He sucks on my lower lip and then comes back in for more.

I'm breathless and panting and needing . . . something.

I don't dare to touch him, in case that will bring this kiss to a stop.

I want to climb up into his lap. I want to feel his hands holding me, digging into me.

I want—

"Ouch!"

My hand flies up to my burning lip as I pull back from the kiss, staring up at Hunter wide-eyed, a metallic taste in my mouth. He smiles smugly as he licks the drop of my blood from his lips, but then the shutters come down and he goes back to reclining into the cushions, arms thrown wide again, as if the last thirty seconds never happened.

I pull my hand away from my lips and see the tiny flecks of blood on my hand. My confusion returns. I'm bleeding. And I'm alone.

My eyes dart to the door.

Should I leave?

"Baby, come here."

I turn back to the very first daddy. He is holding his hand out toward me, and the smile on his face appears to be genuine and trustworthy. I stare at his fingers as my pulse thunders so hard, I can practically hear it. Slowly, I place my hand in his and turn my gaze up to him, praying I'm not making the wrong decision.

He continues to smile and nod encouragingly. With a gentleness that surprises me, after the rough manhandling his three friends just put me through, he tugs me toward him. I stand and walk to him.

With his free hand, he cups the back of one of my knees and guides it onto the couch beside his hip. Understanding dawns that he wants me to straddle him. I release his hand and place both of mine on his shoulders as I lower my other leg to the other side of him.

My breath shakes as the split in my lingerie is finally put under enough pressure that it separates and I can feel the rigid length of him through his pants pressing directly against me. I swallow and try to breathe. How long will it take for him to find my naughty secret?

His hands come to rest on my ass. "Hi, baby. Having fun?"

My insides squirm in nervous flutters at being called baby .

I nod, twisting my fingers into the fabric of his shirt.

"Yes, Daddy," he corrects, voice gentle but firm. His dark brown eyes have wrinkles near the corners, like he smiles a lot. But right now they are serious, like he is laying down a rule that I should be paying attention to.

With that in mind, I repeat his words back to him, somehow slightly sad that I have disappointed him already. "Yes, Daddy."

"Good girl," he replies as his hands knead my ass, making me rock slightly against his hardness. "That's good. Want more?"

The grinding pressure starts a slow burn in my core as my clit is rubbed between us. I moan and nod again as desire flows through me. "Yes, Daddy."

He reaches up and presses his thumb into my abused lip. "This doesn't hurt too much?"

There is a dull ache there, but I've had a completely split lip in the past that required stitches. In comparison to that, this barely registers, so I shake my head. "No, Daddy."

His grip moves to my chin, and he gently tugs until my lips are pressing against his. Daddy lets go and pulls back a little before capturing my lips again. His hand goes back to my ass, and he makes me rock into him, over and over again, each surge of my hips timed perfectly with the movements of our mouths.

I fall into him, my chest pressing firmly against his, the hard knot of the satin bow digging into my cleavage, but I ignore it. Daddy's fingers start to explore, slowly running down the back of my ass until they scoop underneath and his fingers can press against my crotch.

But his fingers don't press fabric against me, and we both startle back from each other.

Me, because his finger just slipped knuckle-deep into me.

And him, because he just found my surprise for them.

His surprise melts into a heated smirk as he removes his finger and then drives it back into me. I moan, close my eyes, and tip my head back.

Getting fingered has never felt this good.

"Baby, you need to turn around and show your other daddies the naughty surprise you've been hiding from us." His words are only loud enough for me, and he punctuates his order by turning one finger to two, and I can't help but rock back on them.

My face flushes when his words register through my haze, and I open my eyes to look at him. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but for some reason, I'm embarrassed, even though this has been my plan all along.

"Turn around, sit on my lap, and spread those pretty little legs. Show your daddies the naughty slit you have in your lingerie. Let them see how wet that little cunt is and how ready you are for them to use you however they want."

My chest heaves at his whispered words, and it draws his attention for a moment before his focus returns to my face.

"Now."

My stomach tightens at the implied threat in his voice.

I lower my gaze and start to move. "Yes, Daddy."

This is it. The kissing and grinding were just the prelude. This is the beginning of them taking their pleasure from me and me earning my gift.

Just a few more hours, and my future will be a little more stable.

This is the last time.

This is the last time that I will ever whore myself out for cash.