103. Chapter 101
Emery
I giggle to myself as I step away from the bedroom door with my four sleeping daddies on the other side, the feeling of being a covert operative sneaking out a little too fun not to fantasize about.
I’d woken up in the middle of all four of them, more than a little too warm, with one arm and one leg—from two different men—thrown over me.
I barely escaped with my life.
Last night, our dinner had arrived as I’d been getting into my pjs, and after making my way through half of a chicken burrito, I’d succumbed to a food coma and promptly fallen asleep sitting on Darcy’s lap. I have vague memories of cuddles on the couch and then being put to bed.
Which means we have yet to have The Talk.
I’m not planning on leaving this apartment until we do, and if that means I have to skip classes, then fine.
Well, not really. But I’d totally skip Monday classes.
Besides, I’d be able to get private lessons from Derek and Hudson to make sure I don’t fall behind.
Ohh, that would be a fun role-play.
Excuse me, Professor, is there anything I can do to make up for missing your class on Monday?
This time, my giggle is more of a snicker as I open the fridge door and peer inside to see what my options are. Weirdly enough, there is actually plenty of food in here. I grab a banana and the milk, then make myself a hot chocolate before plonking down on one of the barstools.
And it is at this exact moment that I realize I haven’t seen my things since I arrived. My heart vaults into my throat, and I whip around to survey the room, gaze darting all over the place until—
My things are exactly where Darcy left them, next to the couch. They haven’t been moved. Leaving my mug and banana on the counter, I go to my bag in search of my phone, but after inspecting each individual pocket, I don’t find it.
Straightening, I put my hands on my hips and scan the room again, this time with less urgency. That’s when I spot the new charging station on the counter—right next to my banana and hot chocolate.
Rolling my eyes at myself, I return to my barstool and pluck my phone out of the charging station. More giggles build in my throat at the sight of my sparkling, pom-pom case squeezed in between four plain black cases that look like they were bought in a four-pack.
My attention is caught by the little half-filled jar next to the charging bay. There’s a white pearly substance in it and yesterday’s date written on the lid. I frown as I stare at it. What the fuck is—
My mouth drops open.
Is that…did they—surely not. That is not a jar full of their cum collected from my vagina last night. Nope. Nope. Absolutely not.
But also, how is that even possible? Did they, like, scoop it out or something? Or did they hold the jar at my pussy and wait for it to leak out?
And double also, why the fuck is the idea of them sitting around while cum collects in a jar so fucking hot?
With a shuddering inhale, I turn my attention to my phone, filing my questions away for later.
The first thing I see when my phone lights up are the multiple missed calls and texts from Will.
Fuck.
I totally forgot about him.
My heart sinks into my ass, and it’s only just occurring to me now that what I put him through was really fucking twisted. He had no idea I was using him as an experiment to get over my daddies. To him, we were actually going to be a real couple if everything worked out.
I am such a bitch.
Biting my lip, I open the message thread and force myself to read all the messages from top to bottom.
At first, they are only updates, letting me know he is going to shower and will be out soon, with details on how to get to the back hallways so that we can catch up.
He double-checks that I’m still okay to go out for dinner.
And then he starts asking if everything is okay.
Then there are missed-call notifications.
The last message makes me feel about one inch tall.
Will: Hey, just spoke with Oakley. You picked the professor, huh?
I guess I was wrong about him being your uncle then.
I knew there was something going on between the two of you, but I thought that you would have at least had the balls to tell me what I was competing against. This is really fucked up, Ems. He’s twice your age.
Is this why he stepped down from teaching our class?
More than a few emotions flash through my system, leaving me hot and with a tense stomach.
Pretty much every feeling ever is now battling for dominance inside of me, and I’m not sure how to reply to Will.
My thumbs hover over the screen and sentences like “I’m so sorry” and “Who the hell do you think you are” and “You don’t know me” swirl to the front of my mind.
It takes several deep breaths and trying to put myself in his shoes—because, yes, abandoning him without even sending him a text was a shitty thing to do—to find a reply that I hope will smooth things over.
I keep everyone’s actual names out of the text message, because neither Derek nor I need Will posting revenge pics on the NU forums.
Not that I actually think he would do that, but I’ve seen people do worse shit for way less of a reason.
Me: Hey, I’m not going to respond to any of the questions in your last message.
We both know the answers. What I will say is that I’m so sorry for dragging you into my situation.
And not that I owe you an explanation, because my relationship with him is my personal business, but we broke up when we found out about our professional relationship.
It crushed me. You and I met about a week later.
Being with him wasn’t an option, and I really liked you.
So, when you showed interest, I wanted to try.
But, clearly, I never got over him. He has done everything to make it possible for us to be together, and when I understood that, I knew I wanted to be with him.
I never meant to hurt you, but I know I have, no matter how unintentionally, and for that, I am truly sorry.
I hope that we can still be friends and study together, but if you need space, I will respect that. Let me know.
I read it over several times, making a tweak here and there, and finally hit send when I realize all I’m doing is procrastinating. Just as I tap the little blue button, hands land on my waist and lips press to my cheek, sending a sharp spike of fear from my heart to my pussy.
My phone clatters to the counter, and I jolt in my seat, almost toppling from it. The only thing that saves me is Derek gripping my waist tightly as the stool wobbles precariously beneath me. Honestly, I’m lucky I don’t actually pee myself.
“Jesus Christ, Derek,” I gasp, hand clutching at my heart as I turn to glare up at him. “You can’t sneak up on a girl like that.”
Derek chuckles and gives my waist a squeeze before leaning down to peck a kiss on my forehead. “I wasn’t being quiet, baby. I thought you heard me approaching. What were you so engrossed in?”
My cheeks burn, but I don’t break eye contact. “I was messaging Will.”
Derek’s jaw tightens, and I can see him working hard to keep his composure. “I see.”
Swallowing, I reach for my banana and start to peel it.
“As you know, I was supposed to be on a date with him last night. When I left the arena, I forgot to message him and say I was leaving. He knows I left to meet with you. So, I was letting him know I was sorry for ghosting him and that things between him and I aren’t going to work out. ”
Before he can try to get more words out of me, I take a bite of my banana and then do the thing where you peer up at a man through your eyelashes so you look cute and innocent.
Derek studies me for a minute and ends up believing my act because he gives me another forehead kiss, which I think might be my most favorite thing in the world now.
Forehead kisses from Daddy.
Just…something about it makes me feel special and treasured.
He takes his turn in the kitchen, setting up the coffee machine and getting his mug out. While his back is turned, I pick up my phone and see that my message to Will has been read, but there is no reply yet.
And since I am in the mood for ending things with people, I open the SugarLife app.
“There is something I need to talk to you about as well,” Derek states, his tone devoid of any inflection.
I glance up at him while the app loads. “Okay.”
“So, while we were…separated, we all tried to find ways to stay connected with you, while giving you the space you needed to recover from everything,” he starts off while the coffee machine makes a bunch of beeps and spitting noises.
“Uh-huh,” I reply, navigating through the app to my inbox, which also takes ages to load due to all the unread messages I have in there.
“Darcy had his art contract with you. Hudson was sending you the gifts, and then later, you had the journal you were passing back and forth. Xavier gave you the opposite of space and moved in.”
“Yeah,” I murmur in agreement as I scroll, looking for my chat with EyesOnYou, not one-hundred percent listening but still hearing his words.
“And as you know, most of your anger was directed at me, rightly so. Which means I had to be a little more creative, beyond taking you to appointments and picking you up from that frat party.”
“Right.” Ah, there it is. Before I lose the nerve—because this person gifted me a lot of money just to watch me do, mostly, innocent things—I quickly type out a message.
Me: Hey, I wanted to send you a message letting you know I won’t be doing private lives anymore.
My circumstances have changed. You know those Daddies I was telling you about?
Well, we worked it out. Yay! Thank you for our time together, and I hope to see you in any public lives I do in the future! Xx
I hit send on the message, then look up at Derek, the sound of the bedroom door opening and the murmur of sleepy male voices coming from behind me. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
He takes a deep breath. “Emery, I’m Eyes—”
There is a loud SugarLife notification from the charging station, and like puppets, both our heads swivel in that direction. Really fucking conveniently, the phone at the front is Derek’s.
SugarLife
New message from SugarBB_Emmy.
My mind goes completely silent. Not a single sound. I’m pretty sure my heart may have even paused in solidarity.
Derek is EyesOnYou.
Darcy presses a kiss to the back of my head and murmurs good morning to me as I take another bite of my banana, mulling over this new piece of information, trying to see how it fits into the jigsaw that is this man.
Like, I’m not even surprised, if I’m really honest. Actually, I’m a little disappointed in myself for not having figured it out sooner.
The coffee machine sputters back to life as I swallow, still staring at his screen, even after it’s gone dark.
The username is a dead giveaway.
Not EyesOnMe, as in demanding I stare at him. No. His eyes on me.
Taking another bite, I try to scroll through my memories of our chats and if I sent him any pictures…
It’s like my brain is buffering when I remember that fateful Thursday night, when I’d kicked the study group out and then given myself an orgasm on a private live with him. And I know there is something else about Thursdays that I’m supposed to remember…
“You play poker on Thursday nights, right?” I ask him.
Derek’s lips are compressed into a thin line. His arms are crossed over his bare chest, and his entire body screams tension and discomfort. His nod is jerky as fuck when he eventually gives it, shifting to the side as Hudson opens the cabinet to get his mug out.
I nod in understanding and go back to eating my banana.
I fucked myself with a vibrating dildo, and what, they watched it on his tiny little phone screen?
No. Wait. That’s not Derek’s style. He would have wanted life-size, so…
Swiveling, I take in the apartment, my gaze drifting over Xavier reclining in the corner of the couch, eyes closed, in nothing but sweats, before landing on the TV. Yep, that’s how Derek would have watched it, but back at his house.
I turn back to the counter and take another bite of my banana before opening my messages with EyesOnYou using my free hand and tapping out a new message.
Me: Actually, scratch that. Any time you want a private live, all you need to do is ask. And instead of money, my payment will be one story about you, your past, your hopes and dreams for our future. Just something about you. Xx
I hit send on the message and then jump down from the barstool, head over to the couch, plonk down near Xavier, and lie back until my head is on his chest and we form an L in the corner of the couch.
It gives me the perfect view of the kitchen as the ding of the SugarLife notification pings on Derek’s phone.
Derek hesitates in reaching for it, possibly thinking I might be fucking with him, so I unlock my phone again and swap over to scrolling on a social media app. I pay him no mind, pausing to watch a video about dogs running at full pace beside an ATV doing forty miles per hour.
Eventually he reaches for his phone and reads my messages. He leans forward and props his elbows on the counter, his thumbs tapping over the screen.
A few seconds later, I get a notification from SugarLife. I almost consider ignoring it, just to actually fuck with him, but figure that we have a bit of trust building to do and I need to take this seriously. For now, anyway.
I open his message and can’t help the smile that stretches across my face.
EyesOnYou: It’s a good thing I have thousands of stories to share with you, then. I love you, baby.