Page 30 of Brat Baby
A second message. That’s not her usual routine. Since our… date a few nights ago, like clockwork, I have received a single message with a photo, sometimes more than one, by seven-thirty, morning and night. Nothing more, nothing less.
The phone is in my hand and open to her messages immediately. I barely see them load, however, before Darcy demands my attention.
“Xav, it’s your call.”
Tossing in roughly the right amount of chips, I know that shit is unbalanced between the four of us when no one calls me out on not checking my cards. It doesn’t matter, though. They’ll thank me for what I did. Eventually.
Play continues around me as multiple images load in the message preview. I tap on the top one and have to bite back a moan as I swipe through them. Each image is even more delectable than the previous.
She’s gotten creative today, zoomed-in shots, different angles. Her cunt. All my marks.
That pretty fucking virgin asshole.
I close the images and go to her text.
Me:Daddy, they are almost gone *sad face emoji* When can I have some new ones?
She wants more.
Heat runs down my spine at the mental image that explodes in my head. Red lines over her breasts, down her stomach. Inner thighs with beads of blood. Deeper cuts over her ass—
“Xavier.” Derek’s voice whips out, a sharpness to it that is usually reserved for misbehaving subs.
Slowly, I pan my gaze to look at him, but I don’t actually see him. My brain is too locked on my darkest urges sitting so close to the surface that I’m struggling to breath.
She wants more.
“It’s your call,” he states, finger tapping on the side of his tumbler.
I blink, slowly.
My fantasy to carve my name into her thigh comes rushing back to me. Yes, that. Maybe even deep enough that it’ll leave a scar that will turn faint over time, only visible in the right light.
“Xavier, are you okay?” Hudson asks as he lays a hand on my shoulder.
The contact brings me back to the room. I need to leave. I need to fucking leave, right now.
I can’t be here.
Gripping my phone tightly, I exit out of the messages and swap over to another app, one I coded specifically for Emery. It loads immediately, displaying a little dot on a map. The glowing blue dot is exactly where it was when I checked it fifteen minutes ago. Her dorm room.
She wants more.
Without a word, I push up from my seat, step away from the table, and go to gather my shit from the kitchen countertop.
As I exit, I hear my name called again and again, but I don’t stop.
She wants more.
Chapter 18
Emery
Hot. So. Fucking. Hot.
I wrestle with the blankets covering me as I try to expose my body to the cooler air of my bedroom. As soon as my upper body breaks free, I breathe a sigh of relief.
I’m not sure what woke me. Definitely not my alarm, since it’s not going off. I tap the screen—six-fifteen. Still forty-five minutes left to sleep.
