Page 57 of Sugar Baby

The hope that we can keep her for more than just the night. More than just the weekend.

I can also feel the damn restraints they all have wrapped around that hope.

She’s it for us, I know it. I’ll spend the entire weekend proving it to them.

Emmy is ours.

I adjust on the bed, pulling her higher up on my chest. The movement jostles her, but she resettles with her cheek pressedagainst me. Her naked body flush up against mine soothes something deep within me, and I have the insane urge to squeeze her so tight that my body simply absorbs her.

I replay the moment that we tied her arms behind her back and the way her eyes widened once she realized what was happening. The way she hadn’t struggled but simply accepted that this was her new state of being. She never once fought her bindings; if anything, she seemed to sink deeper into the scene.

Imagery of her posed in a Hashira pattern against my wooden pillar assaults my mind, and if I was a decade younger, my twitching cock would be at full mast again. As it is, I have almost two decades on this young girl in my arms.

Keeping her for longer than a contract is out of the question. She has so much life left to live. And while we are all physically fit and healthy men, we are getting to that stage in life where we will be on the other side of what is considered prime.

Besides, what if she wants to settle down at some point? Get married? Have kids. We can’t offer that as a group. She would have to choose one of us and the rest would have to watch from the wings. That would kill us.

For that very reason, we will have to agree to a contract period with her. And that’s only if we can get more than the weekend with her.

Something cool and wet drips onto my thigh, and as okay as I am with bodily fluids during a scene, post-coital semen leaking onto my leg is a hard pass for me.

“She needs to be cleaned up,” I say, doing my best to school my discomfort. The runny liquid is rolling down my thigh toward the duvet that we hadn’t bothered to strip because we were in too much of a hurry. “Me too.”

Derek smirks at me, the bastard knowing exactly what is occurring, but he does get up and disappear into the en-suite.Water runs for a few moments before he comes back with two wet washcloths.

Xavier holds his arms out where he is sitting. “Let me take her.”

Shifting Emmy in my arms, I carefully transfer her to Xavier—blankets and all—and accept the warm, wet cloth from Derek. While I tend to myself, Derek raises the blanket and carefully wipes her clean.

When I’m done with the cloth, I get up and toss it into the bathroom. Turning around, I take in the room.

Hudson has come and gone, apparently, returning with his briefs on, and several glasses of water have appeared on the bedside table. Derek is still sitting with Xavier, both of them naked—the same as me—except, Xav is covered up by Emmy’s blanket.

Fuck, Emmy.

We don’t even know her real goddamned name.

“Should we ask her for her name?” Apparently, my filter has disappeared.

All three of them look at me, my confusion reflected on their faces.

Then we all glance at the beautiful woman in Xav’s arms.

“I’m not sure I want more details. Even if she agrees to extend our time together, what if she doesn’t want more than the weekend?” Hudson muses quietly. He holds a half-full glass in his hands, slowly rotating it as he watches her. “If she agrees to more than just the weekend, then—”

“Just to be clear, we’re talking about a contract, right?” I confirm, because there is absolutely no room for miscommunication in this situation.

Hudson inclines his head at me. “Exactly, a contract. If she doesn’t want one, then Sunday evening, we’ll part ways, never to see her again. Do we really need her name for two more days?”

I mull it over. Not having her real name will help me to keep this all in perspective. This girl has unraveled so many of the knots inside of me in the space of—I check the nightstand clock—fuck me, not even two hours. There are four of us and one of her, and we didn’t even last two hours?

“What if she asks for ours?” Derek asks, getting off the bed and heading toward the door.

I trail after him as I answer. “I think she should know our names, just so it doesn’t get awkward when all she can call the four of us is Daddy.”

“I agree with Darcy,” Xavier murmurs as Emmy stirs in his arms.

Hudson sits on the bed and reaches out to Emmy, linking his fingers with hers again, before nodding at me.

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