Page 16 of Sugar Baby

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 theseguys 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 andhas 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 underno,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.

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