8. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Emery

Cock. Big, thick, hard cock. Times four. And does that one . . .

I pinch my fingers on the screen and pull them apart, zooming in on the picture.

Holy fucking cheeseburgers. That one has a piercing through the slit that comes out on the underside of the crown.

I'm so transfixed by the four cocks, it takes me several long, heavy breaths to realize that they are attached to bodies. Headless torsos again, all missing their shirts again. But this time, the pants are undone enough to allow each man to have his cock and balls out.

As I try to zoom in more, because okay, I'm a little thirsty, I accidentally swipe left. My heart leaps, thinking that I might have accidentally deleted the photo before I was done inspecting it, but no, another image appears on my screen and my chest gets all fluttery.

What the fuck is that feeling?

Ignoring that, I pay attention to the new photo and see it's one of the men. He is reclined back on a dark brown leather couch, shirtless—because why not?—with short blond hair, the front few strands styled to flick up. More than a little light-brown stubble clings to his face. He has the palest blue eyes I've ever seen, framed by spiky brown lashes. The smirk on his lips makes him look playful, but the gleam in his eyes makes a shiver run down my spine.

Assuming there are more, I swipe again.

Serious dark brown eyes stare back at me, and somehow, they haven't lost their depth in the 2D render. Stubble frames the man's lips and coats his chin, and he has that hollow beneath his cheekbones that draws your eyes to the center of his face, which is basically symmetrical. Thick, dark brows—the same color as his hair, which is long on top and shorter on the sides—frame his eyes.

He seems super relaxed, like he is lying back on a couch.

My eyes narrow.

Dark brown leather couch.

And is that . . .?

That's a bare shoulder to his right.

I flick back to the previous image and, yep, the skin tone is the same. Tan, like he spends time in the sun but doesn't live in it.

The second guy is slightly tanner, but not by much.

Okay, so, just because they took these photos when they happened to be sitting next to each other, it doesn't mean they are sitting next to each other right now.

Also, that first image—

I flick back to the first one, but no, that looks like it was taken at another time. In that one, they're standing in a line, all with no shirts, flies undone on their pants, one hand pulling down the waistband of their underwear so that it's under their junk. All of them seem to be around the same height, and from what I can tell, they will all be taller than me by several inches.

Assuming neither of the other two have the same skin tone as Daddy number one—totally internally snickering at myself—I can tell that he is not piercing dude and that he has a decent-sized cock, long and curved a little to the side.

Okay, so back to the head shots.

I flick past Daddy one and two, then take a look at three.

My mouth drops open.

Nuh-uh. No way.

Daddy number three is fucking hot.

He also appears to be sitting on the leather couch, the camera angle making it look like he is holding the phone directly above himself, head relaxed back, panning the majority of his body into the shot. He's also shirtless, and I can see ab definition as I trace the muscles down to the very low gym shorts.

Any lower, and his family jewels would be on display.

I scan back up his body and spy the nipple piercing, effectively ruling him out as dick-piercing dude. So, it's either Daddy number two or four.

Number three has dark brown hair pulled into a messy man bun. His beard is just shy of scruffy—and what is with all these guys having facial hair? Is it an old guy thing? I can't think of anyone in my age group with facial hair. Maybe it's something a man does once he hits thirty?

He has a naughty smile on his face, like he's planning mischief and will happily drag me along for the ride. At first, I think his eyes are dark brown, like Daddy number two's, but they aren't. They're blue. A very, very, very dark blue, but still blue.

Nerves suddenly assail me.

If I'm being honest with myself, I can confirm that I find the first three highly attractive. But I also find Tray crazy hot. Hotness does not translate to good in bed. Not by any means. It just means that they expect to get it easier and put in less work.

And usually take more than you're willing to give.

I slam my eyes shut on that thought and take a deep breath.

Nope. New start. College. That whole other thing is behind me now.

Well, except for this one night with these gentlemen. Just to set myself up.

One last time. That's all this is.

It doesn't matter what they look like or how good they are in bed.

All that matters is the money that ends up in my bank account.

Opening my eyes, I swipe right at the same time and smile as I see the last photo. More of a baby face than the others and, yes, more facial hair. Light brown this time, which matches his sandy-brown curls that fall around his face. Hazel eyes stare back at me. My smile slips from my face. There is a stillness in his eyes that hints at dark urges.

This man has a vise grip on my heart, and I know I'm looking at a kindred soul.

I inhale shakily and take in the rest of the image.

The big difference between this photo and the last three is that he isn't sitting on the couch. Instead, he is standing behind it and has angled the camera so that the heads of the three other guys are in the photo as they watch the massive television hanging on the wall in front of them.

Okay, so, yep. All attractive.

After one final flick back through all the pics, I press the X to minimize and go back to the chat.

Brat4Us: For now, you can call all of us Daddy. We'll let you know if that changes. Thank you for asking, Emmy.

I frown.

Well, that will get confusing.

I pause. Will it, though? It's only for the next little bit while we chat and then for a few hours in person tonight.

And, really, with the number of nameless men that have stuck their dicks in me, will four more make a difference at this point?

Filing that directly under no, I try to think of a reply when I'm struck with a moment of inspiration.

I dash into the bathroom and swiftly pull off my sleep shorts and tug the scrunchy from my hair, letting the long brown strands fall down my back, ending just above the swell of my ass. With my back to the mirror, I mess around with my shirt until the very bottom of my underwear peeks from beneath the hem.

Using the front-facing camera, I hold the phone up, angling to get my reflection in the mirror and just a sliver of my face into the shot. I turn my head to the side and then tap my thumb on the screen to take the picture.

Good, but not quite right. I readjust a few things—pull the shirt up higher, gather my hair into less of a mess—then position myself to take the photo. But this time, I stand on my tippy toes and lean forward a little to make sure my ass really pops.

This time, the picture is perfect.

Quickly, I open the app and send the photo.

SugarBB_Emmy: Okay, Daddies. I'm just about to take a shower. Can you tell me about what the perfect night with your baby girl looks like?

I attach the image and hit send .

My heart rate goes through the roof as a little zing zaps down into my pussy. I smirk at my phone when the message skips the delivered status and goes straight to read , wondering what they are thinking about me, about the image.

Bubbles appear and, not wanting to get caught in a lie, I quickly lock my phone and reach into the shower to turn it on.

I drop the rest of my clothes on top of the discarded shorts and twist my hair up into a messy bun once again, hoping that not too much of it will get wet.

As soon as I'm under the hot water, I hear the notification on my phone. The urge to get out and check it immediately is hard to resist, but I force myself to go through the motions.

I'm going to spend the next few hours teasing them.

Constantly sending them photos of my day.

And in every single image, I'll give them a tease of my body.