Page 17 of Sugar Baby

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 hitsend.

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 thedeliveredstatus and goes straight toread, 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.

Chapter 7

Emery

Brat4Us:A perfect night is hard to describe. The kinks we listed on the invitation are not exhaustive. With a baby girl that we only have one night with, perfect for us would be about sharing her. She would be wearing something sexy, but cute. Maybe she has her dolls and bears out. She would kiss all four of us. She would get on her knees and wrap her pretty lipsaround each of our cocks. She would bend over and use her greedy little pussy to milk each of us dry. She would beg for permission to come while we took turns at eating her out. And the entire night, she would be our good girl and call us Daddy.

I read their reply about twenty times.

Holy shit.

I unknot my towel and drape it over the bathtub because I’m suddenly hotter than when I was in the shower.

My mind conjures images of each of the things they described, flicking through them like a flipbook cartoon.

Would one of them want to fuck me while I blow another one?

I press my thighs together at the thought as a dull throb shoots through my clit.

And they want to take turns eating me out? Surely, not. If they are paying to have sex with me, why would they willingly go down on me? Not even Tray has done that to me.

I read the message, again, and my attention focuses on two key things.

Wearing something cute but sexy.

Her dolls and bears.

Well, shit. How am I supposed to get those? I tap my finger against the side of the phone as I think.

This is my make-quick-money scheme. But how do I fund the upfront expenses?

I look at my reflection in the mirror, damp curls forming from the wisps of hair that had gotten wet around my flushed face. Could I ask Oakley for a loan? I’d literally be able to pay it back the moment I get home from my . . . date? But she would have to be crazy to lend money to someone she’s been living with for a week and she knows is broke as a fuck.

Right?

All I can do is ask, I guess.

I wrap my body back in the towel, scoop up my dirty clothes, and walk back out into the living room. Oakley is lying on the couch, holding her phone above her head while she scrolls. As I approach her, I mentally run through the lie I’m going to tell so that it comes out smoothly.

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