9. Chapter 7
Chapter 7
Emery
Dead, dark brown eyes stare back at me from my place on the giant pink bed. Tray’s frame is thinner than I have ever seen him. His cheeks are hollow and acne scars run along his temples.
“Why’d you leave me, Mery? Don’t you know I’m the only one who can keep you safe? You owe me.” He reaches out a hand toward me, a look on his face that I’m sure is supposed to be beseeching, but I see it for what it is. Desperation. He needs me to spread my legs for him. Again.
I scrabble backward until my back hits the bedhead. No, no, no. How did he even find me? How?
Suddenly, his face contorts with rage, and he shoves his hands into his dark brown curls. “No one else can have you. You’re mine.”
I suck in a huge breath of air as my eyes slam open, heart racing, and just a little disoriented. It takes me a few moments of whispering quietly to myself that I’m safe, over and over, until my brain focuses on the thing attached to the ceiling.
There, right above the center of the bed, is a massive, thick wooden photo frame. The fuck? Several long drawn out breathes later, while wondering what the fuck that is for, I remember where I am.
Their sex apartment.
Bolting upright to a sitting position, I scan the room, expecting one, if not all of them, to be in here, naked, waiting for me to wake up. But...nope. I’m all alone.
Again, what the fuck?
The same thought repeats through my brain as I glance to the side and can clearly see that Darcy slept on the far side of the bed. The evidence of rumpled sheets and head depression in the farthest pillow suggests that he slept with as much distance between us as he could possibly get.
Not to mention the pillow positioned sideways down the center of the bed, like a goddamn wall, to keep us separated. Because he didn’t want to accidentally touch me while he slept?
For some reason, that causes a pang of discomfort in my chest.
Sure, he can put his dick inside me, but he can’t cuddle while we sleep?
Which is just a big fat reminder that this is a weekend of sex. No different than last night at the hotel. They liked the way I let them use my body, and they wanted more of that. The invitation to extend our time together doesn’t mean anything else.
I shouldn’t even want him to cuddle me.
They like fucking me and I like their cash.
End. Of. Discussion.
Once I can’t hear my pulse anymore, the gentle murmur of male voices drifts to me. The bedroom door is cracked open, and now that the rest of my senses are coming online, the scent of whatever is cooking has my stomach grumbling.
A cursory glance of the room provides a few more details. It helps that the heavy curtains to my left have been pulled back, and morning light streams through a layer of gauzy fabric. Turning, I glance at the little LED thingy and check the time, just after nine. Awesome. I slip out of bed, bringing teddy with me, and separate the curtains to peek out the window. The bay stares back at me.
Last night, I didn’t really pay attention to where the Uber was taking me, and I’d only peripherally known we were getting closer and closer to the water. But I hadn’t realized the building is literally on the waterfront.
Makes sense, though. If they can spend thirty-thousand dollars on two nights with me, then they can afford an apartment in this building.
I turn around to take in the rest of the room, smirking when I see the armchair tucked into the corner between the curtains and the dresser. Something I’d clearly missed in my dazed state last night. The chair is cream and wider than normal. It actually looks like a perfect reading chair, with the wide seat cushion and high, rounded armrests that flare out slightly. The thought of stealing what is clearly Derek’s spot for my own crosses my mind, but I squash the idea before it even forms. I won’t be returning to this apartment.
My attention once again snags on the thick wooden frame in the ceiling, and besides a few decorative metal circles, it is completely smooth and seems out of place in the room. Everything else is delicate, in muted pinks and creams, while the frame is thick and masculine.
Deciding it’s a mystery that doesn’t need to be unraveled right this minute, I head into the bathroom to freshen up. As I’m washing my hands, I scan my features in the mirror and consider putting on a little makeup and fixing my hair, which has mostly stayed within the braids I did last night.
Maybe they’ll like the fresh-out-of-bed look? And if they don’t, I’m sure they will tell me.
I don’t bother changing into my day clothes, since I have no idea what they have planned for the day and figure I’ll need guidance. Maybe they plan on having me walk around naked all day, as previously threatened. If so, what would be the point of even putting on clothes?
Nerves tumble around in my stomach as I draw closer to the bedroom door and the voices get louder. Not allowing myself to give in to the nerves, I squeeze the teddy to my chest, open the door, and walk through.
Light pours into the space through two floor to ceiling windows either side of the TV. The black curtain is still up, and my fingers twitch with the need to sweep it aside, but I don’t. Something tells me that, if I take a peek behind that curtain, I’ll be the living definition of curiosity killed the cat.
The soles of my feet are quiet against the dark wooden floor, and I skirt around the lounge before it occurs to me that the conversation has stopped. Glancing toward the kitchen, I find all four men staring at me, and I almost trip over my own feet. I pause where I am and almost strangle my teddy as I wrap my arms around my middle, regretting coming out here in my purple pajamas.
“Morning, princess. Did you sleep well?” Darcy asks as he puts down his coffee and strides toward me, his sneakers making a muted thud noise with every step.
My gaze dances over his shoulder at the other three before I finally look him in the eye and muster a smile, even though his mention of sleep reminds me that, while we may have slept in the same bed, we did not sleep together. “Yeah, slept like the dead.”
I do not think about my dream, barely able to suppress the shudder that wants to take over my body.
He stops in front of me and cups the side of my face before dropping another forehead kiss on me. Pings of something I choose to ignore erupt inside of me, and I have a feeling it would be very easy to become addicted to these tiny shows of affection.
“Are you hungry?”
I place a hand over my stomach and nod. “Starving.” And then, to be just a little bit of a brat... “I worked up an appetite last night.”
Darcy grins down at me, the kind of grin that says he would totally be down to be my partner in any mischief I might like to come up with. “Well, breakfast will be ready in about a minute, so why don’t you come over to the table and say good morning to everyone?”
While his words may have sounded like a question, I take them like an order and slowly approach the other three. Honestly, if it weren’t for Darcy’s hand on my lower back propelling me forward, I probably would have taken far longer to make my way to them.
As I approach, Derek turns back to the stove. Something sizzles, making my mouth water. Xavier has his back pressed against the outside of the counter and watches me. My nickname for him from last night resurfaces, and I can’t help but find it even more accurate this morning.
Hunter.
He watches me like I’m his prey. It’s difficult to remind myself that he enjoyed the taste of my blood on his lips, with his halo of sandy blond curls and soft hazel eyes. The scruff on his cheeks has been shaved clean, giving him a boyish look.
When I get within reaching distance of him, he offers me his hand. With as much confidence as I can muster, I release my grasp on my teddy and place mine in his, allowing him to pull me forward. He doesn’t say anything until I’m flush against his chest, my head resting on his shoulder, his arms around me, and the bear hanging loosely by my side.
“You were perfect last night.”
The words are barely above a whisper, and I melt into the hug. I’ve never been called perfect before.
I look up at him as I pull back. He is watching me, his face giving away absolutely nothing, and I almost convince myself that I imagined his words. His hands squeeze around my waist before he lets me go, his fingers releasing one at a time, like he has to convince each digit to relinquish its hold on me.
Viper—Hudson—is to Xavier’s left, in between the end of the counter and the table. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his navy chinos, and his blond hair is styled in that up-and-away look men do with their fringe. The smile on his face doesn’t reach his icy blue eyes. Something in the way he watches me almost freezes me to the spot. Wariness, maybe?
Internally, I laugh at myself. How could I possibly make this man nervous? There are absolutely zero things about me that are threatening to them. There are four of them and one of me, they are all larger than me and, in Xavier’s case, twice my size. They have the power, the money, the life experience.
I’m the one who should be wary.
But I’ve weighed the pros and cons of this situation, and even if this weekend turns out to be a fucked-up hell, it won’t be much worse than what has already happened to me. And there is the money. Worst case, I walk away with the twenty K they’ve already sent to my SugarLife account.
“Good morning, Emmy,” he murmurs once I stop in front of him, his eyes capturing my own.
He doesn’t move to touch me, and because I refuse to let the awkwardness win, I put the bear on the counter beside him, place my hand on his chest and rise up on tiptoes. He stays completely still as I place a light kiss on his cheek. “Good morning, Hudson.”
It feels super weird to say his name out loud.
I lower my heels and give him a few seconds to make a move, but when he doesn’t so much as blink, I step to the side. I trail my fingers down his chest and over his side as I circle around him and head into the kitchen.
Derek is holding a frying pan and tongs, transferring sausages onto a plate. He glances at me as I approach and smiles. “Morning, baby.”
Coming up behind him, I wrap my arms around his apron-covered waist and press my cheek into his back. “Morning.”
The very natural urge to call him Daddy is only stopped by sheer willpower. I have no idea if I’m allowed to call them that outside of a scene. I can only blame the shock and exhaustion for calling Darcy Daddy last night. Derek’s back muscles shift under my cheek, then his hands grip my forearms, gently prying me away from him.
My heart sinks. Did I—
I suck in a sharp breath and almost let out a squeak when he suddenly turns around, grips me under my arms, and hoists me up until my butt lands on the counter right next to the plates he’s placed food on. My knees immediately fall open when he leans against them, stepping into the gap between my thighs.
He doesn’t say anything, simply stares down at me. His gaze flicks to my lips, and déjà vu hits me from last night with Darcy. I lift my chin the smallest amount possible and maintain eye contact with him, ready to drop my mouth away if his lips don’t look like they intend to land on mine.
Derek doesn’t hesitate. His lips on mine are firm, hungry, but I can feel the restraint in him. His hands cradle my back, and I lean into the kiss. He breaks us apart a few seconds later, and I bury my face in his neck.
He gives me a squeeze. “Breakfast is ready. Let’s sit down and eat. We have some things to talk about.”
My insides lock up. Oh shit, have I fucked up already?