28. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Emery

I must have dozed off again. Quiet male voices slowly pierce my consciousness, drawing me away from the heaviness that coats me.

"I'm on board with that. Need to make sure there are no more drops."

"Okay, so everyone agrees. Extended aftercare, no taking her at her word that she's fine."

There are murmurs of agreement, and déjà vu hits me when I hear Xavier's voice rumble through his chest.

Embarrassment curls in my stomach and blooms on my cheeks when I think about the mess I'd been in front of them.

Fuck, did I have a panic attack?

Jesus christ.

I haven't had one of those since I was a pre-teen realizing the foster care system wasn't all fucking sunshine and roses.

"What's aftercare?" I ask, voice way more croaky than I expect. Opening my eyes, I scan the three men I can see and push up to sitting in the fourth's lap.

Daddy—damn it, I still don't know his name. Actually didn't Hudson mention a Derek? So, if I'm sitting on Xavier, Darcy is leaning on the table, and Hudson is sitting on the chair, then the man holding my hands is Derek.

For some reason, that thought tumbles out of my mouth. "You're Derek."

He grins at me. "Yes. And you're Emmy."

I clench my jaw against the automatic need to correct him. They don't need to know my real name. I give a slow nod. "Yeah, Emmy."

His thumb rubs over the back of my hand. "To answer your question, aftercare happens after sex or a scene. It's different for everyone, but in general terms, it is the sharing of comfort and tending to physical needs that any of the play partners require."

I frown. This is so confusing. It's never been like this before. The only way I'll get answers is to ask the question. "I don't get it. Why would you want to comfort me after fucking me? Isn't the point of paying me so that you don't have to comfort me? I'm not a girlfriend."

There is a lot of silence in the room.

I probably should have phrased that better.

Derek frowns and looks down at the carpet, a muscle ticking in his temple.

Darcy straightens against the table. "He means cuddling, princess."

"And tending to any wounds, if there are any," Hudson adds from beside him.

My eyes widen, and I jerk around to stare at Xavier, my hand rushing up to my lip, my mind focusing on the wounds portion of the explanation.

Silently, he reaches up and moves my fingers away before he touches my lip himself. He pulls the skin and seems satisfied with what he sees. "No more blood."

Suddenly, I remember his whispered words: I wish I brought my knives.

Heat flashes through my body, and he smirks at me, as if he knows what I'm thinking.

"We think that, in future scenes, we'll need to provide you with a lot more time and attention."

Derek's words capture my attention like a dealer's ears hearing a corner kid scream, "Po-po."

"Future scenes?" Had I gotten this wrong? Was this more than one night?

"Yes, but let me ask you a few things first," Derek replies as he readjusts on the couch. "Did you enjoy yourself tonight?"

Memories of the two orgasms I had tonight, and how I shamelessly begged over and over again to come, flood my mind. Once again, embarrassment threatens to swallow me whole, but I shove that shit down. With as little emotion showing on my face as possible, I nod.

"Was there anything you didn't like or wouldn't be willing to do again?"

A bubble of disappointment inflates in my stomach when I don't get reprimanded for not addressing him correctly. I shake my head. "No, I enjoyed all of it."

Which is still fucking weird.

Why did the pain feel so good?

"You got a taste of a few of our kinks tonight. Would you be interested in exploring them further?"

My damned heart is back to lurching all over the place again. This conversation is going in a very particular direction, and I'm not a fucking idiot.

Are they really asking what I think they are?

And why does the idea of more time with them make my heart calm and soar at the same time?

"It would depend on what that would look like," I reply, trying to keep my calm, but holy shit, I'm losing it on the inside.

Derek doesn't hold back when he rattles off a list of terms similar to the ones in their invitation. "Group sex, free use, fisting, medical play, orgasm control, vibrators, spanking, paddling, flogging, restraints—hard and soft—shibari, double penetration."

I hold my hand up. "Anal is off the table."

He cocks an eyebrow at me, and I cock one right back.

His lips quirk as he holds back a smile, like I'm fucking cute or some shit. "Fair enough."

Whatever.

"What's medical play?" Everything else, I already know or looked up on Urban Dictionary.

Derek, Hudson, and Darcy look at Xavier.

I feel him shift beneath me, and then I feel him whisper more than I hear him. "I want to make you bleed for me. Pierce this virgin flesh, over and over, until the pain turns to pleasure and I can leave my mark on you. Eventually."

My mouth drops open, and I swivel my head to look at him.

My pussy throbs, the sudden flood of pleasure not mixing all that well with how swollen I'm just now realizing I am.

"We aren't going to put pressure on you to answer right now, but we would like to send you another invitation. It's up to you whether you decide to accept it or not. You can walk away right now and never see us again. Or you can accept the invitation and do some more exploring with us."

Swallowing, I break eye contact with Xavier and turn back to Derek. Having no idea what the fuck to say, I nod.

There is a gentleness to Derek's eyes that I haven't seen before.

"It is completely up to you, Emmy. There is no pressure."

A knot loosens inside of me. "Yeah, okay."

I pull my hands free of Derek's grasp and glance around. "Ah, I should probably go now, right?"

Hudson smiles at me. "There's no rush, but if you would like to leave, one of us will walk down and put you in your car."

"Ah, I actually caught a cab here."

Hudson nods. "A cab, then."

I wiggle in Xavier's arms, and just when I think he isn't going to let me go, his arms slip from around me.

Getting my feet onto the floor, I stand up with the knowledge that the four of them are watching my every move.

Wanting to seem confident and sure in my actions, I walk over to my bag and grip the strap that is still attached to the bag on its own. The men seem to be having a silent conversation before Xavier pushes to stand and walks toward me.

He saunters over and opens the door, reaching out his other hand for me. I take it, but before he can pull me through the door, I look back one last time.

My throat tightens as I take in each of them.

Derek has stood, hands stuffed into his pockets as he watches me leave.

Darcy stands by his side and has his arms folded over his chest, a portion of his bare chest on display.

Hudson is still seated, but he has turned around and propped his arm up along the back of his chair.

He gives me a small smile, and somehow, it makes my heart hurt.

The entire time, Xavier waits for me patiently. I take a breath so deep, my ribs hurt, then I turn on my heel and walk out. The door snicks shut behind us.

Silence surrounds us as we walk down the corridor and wait for the elevator. It continues as we go down and for the walk across the lobby and out onto the streets of Chicago.

Not once does Xavier let go of my hand. Even with all the odd looks we are getting, since he is in his trousers and dress shirt, and I'm in flip-flops, sweats, and a tee.

Somehow, he manages to get a cab right away. As soon as it comes to a stop, Xavier pulls the back passenger door open. Before I can step into the car, he tugs on my hand, bringing me to a stop.

I turn to ask him what's wrong, but the words remain trapped in my mouth when he crashes his lips on mine. His tongue surges into my mouth, and I rise up on my tiptoes, sucked into the vortex that he is creating.

Then his teeth graze over the tiny cut, and I moan as he pays it particular attention. A sting reignites as he sucks on my lip, causing my pussy to flutter like it has another orgasm locked and loaded.

Holy fuck.

Xavier pulls back and stares into my eyes as he strokes my cheek with his thumb. Eventually, he steps away and gestures for me to enter the cab. I do so in a daze.

Once he closes the door behind me, he steps to the front and taps on the window of the passenger seat. The driver lowers the window, and Xavier withdraws a motherfucking money clip from his pocket and leans into the window, arm outstretched with two bills squeezed between his index and middle fingers.

"Please wait for her to enter her residence before leaving."

The driver makes eye contact with me in the mirror before accepting the cash. "Yes, sir."

Xavier steps back from the cab and stares at me as we pull away from the curb. I turn and watch through the back window as we pull into traffic, the lights from the surrounding buildings streaming by, until he is a body amongst the many on the sidewalk.

Turning back in my seat, I search through my bag for my phone.

Just as I get my hand around the device, I feel it vibrate.

My stomach clenches.

With a slight tremble, I pull it out and look at the screen.

SugarLife

$5,000 has been gifted to you from Brat4Us. You can find your gift in your Vault.

SugarLife

Your vault balance is $10,000.

Sweat breaks out under my bra. Ten thousand dollars. I have ten thousand dollars. I stifle a laugh with the back of my hand.

My phone vibrates again.

SugarLife

Brat4Us has sent you a private invitation.

Giddily, I tap on the notification, and the SugarLife app takes a few seconds to open.

The cab comes to a stop at a red light as the invitation opens and the message appears.

Emmy,

We had an amazing time with you tonight and would like to continue our arrangement for the rest of the weekend, if you are willing. We hope you accept.

If you choose to decline, we will validate your profile for you, so that any future daddies know you are real.

Your Daddies.

The list of kinks Derek mentioned earlier is listed as well. Below that, there is a new section.

Hard limit: Anal.

I scroll down just a fraction more, and my eyes nearly bulge out of my head.

Two red gift boxes stare back at me.

Twenty. Motherfucking. Thousand. Dollars.

To be continued . . .