Page 31 of Good Girl

“That’s not fair,” I whisper, already feeling myself start to cave as my heart starts to race.

Maybe I can just tell them the outline of my life? Of me? I don’t need to go into great detail. Something similar to what’s written in my Department of Child and Family Services file.

The vibes suddenly cut off, and I refocus on Hudson.

“You can use your safe words, Emmy. You can use them to end the questions. You can use them to veto a question. We just want to get to know you a little better. It’s up to you.”

I scan the four of them, my pussy aching with an abandoned throb. They are all staring back at me intently, some morerelaxed than the others, but very interested. They really want to know?

“What color are you, princess?”

Fine. Surface level. Just enough to keep the toy vibrating. With a deep breath, I answer Darcy. “Green.”

Chapter 16

Darcy

Emmy’s chest is flushed red. The knot that formed at her initial reticence unravels. I need her to share with us. I need for them to all connect with her on more than just the sugar baby level.

She’s it for us. She is what—who—we have been waiting for. I know it. The same way I know what color a canvas is missing or what strokes to use to bring a drawing to life.

Emmy is ours. I just need the others to see it too.

She splays her hands on the brown leather seat on either side of her thighs, and I reach out to link our pinkies together. My princess looks at me, nervousness fluttering in her eyes.

“So, where does your family think you are right now? Girls’ weekend away?”

Emmy shakes her head and reaches out for her glass full of soda and ice. Derek picks up one of the paper-covered straws that the waiter left behind, rips it open, and drops the straw into her drink. She smiles at him, but it drops away quickly.

“I wasn’t lying before. There isn’t anything to tell.” She takes a sip of her drink. “They’re dead. The only person who knows I am with you is my roommate.”

My heart trips and tumbles in my chest, the feeling so real, I’m almost shocked when I don’t end up with the organ in my lap. “You’re an orphan?”

With a shrug, she twirls her straw through the black liquid, making the ice clink against the glass quietly, steadfastly avoiding all our gazes. “Yeah, my parents died in an accident when I was six. Been in the system ever since. It is what it is.”

Well, fuck. I shoot a look at the others, because I was not expecting that. A sleepover at a friend’s house, hell even a night with a non-existent boyfriend—all things I was expecting to hear. But this? Can we go ahead with our plan after she dropped something as heavy as that? It’s like she can hear us all losing our mental-dom marbles, because she laughs and relaxes back.

“Can I have my minute now, Daddy?” she asks, her voice dripping with overexaggerated bratty innocence.

Hudson doesn’t have to be asked twice. Anything to give us time to process what she just admitted. With a few taps of his thumb, he activates the vibrator and places his phone down on the table.

Emmy sucks in a breath, and her finger clamps down around mine. “Oh, fuck.”

She slinks down in the seat a little and tips her head back, eyes closed, pelvis tipping forward until her back arches.

Oh fuck, indeed.

My blood runs south so fast that I barely have time to adjust myself so that my cock isn’t bent in my briefs. The others all seem to be having a similar reaction. With her eyes closed, Emmy doesn’t see Hudson take control of the vibrator. He holds his finger over one of the pulsing dots on the screen, then slowly drags it down to the bottom of the screen.

Emmy lets out a whimper. “No . . .”

But then he drags it all the way to the top of the screen, and hernodrags out until she has her mouth open in an O. As her head raises off the back of the booth, and her body curls inward, she barely breathes as the speed of what I’m assuming is the clit stimulator goes to maximum vibration.

Hudson eases back down, then starts drawing a circle over and over again on the screen. Emmy is whimpering and moaning, until she whispers, “I’m close. I’m so close, please don’t stop.”

I glance down at the timer on Hudson’s screen. “You’ve got fifteen seconds. Fourteen.”

She fists her hand, taking my pinky finger with hers, and rocks her hips. “Please, please, please.”

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