Page 63 of Good Girl

It is nowhere near as explicit as the other drawings; it’s almost platonic in comparison.

Two arms from the elbow down with clasped hands, mine and Emmy’s. Our hands are parallel, gripping each other’s forearms, with hers on top of mine. An extraordinary amount of fine line work that has gone into detailing our skin and the threads of the intricately tied rope that secures our hands together.

The black and gray tattoos on my forearm, with their broken artist's palette and over-squeezed tubes of paint, are there as well. Knots depress the skin, giving the ink-darkened skin even more shadow and depth.

My chest feels tight as my heart swells, and I make a decision to swap out my reward gift to her. What I already have can wait for another time.

“Wh–ah, what do you think?” Emmy asks quietly, hands fidgeting in her lap as she peers at the drawing.

I stare at her profile for several heartbeats before I respond. “Princess, these are… They’re amazing,” I reply, irritated that I can’t find more eloquent words to adequately describe how impressed and moved I am by all four of her drawings.

“Mine is perfect,” Derek adds. “I’m going to have it framed and place it on my desk.”

I see the tiny smile Emmy tries to hide as her gaze darts back down to her hands.

There is a grunt of agreement from Xavier’s side of the table, and Hudson murmurs his agreement. I glance over at him and, with how soft his eyes have gone for her, I know he has taken the leap with me on this girl.

I tighten my arm around Emmy’s waist. “Thank you so much for sharing these with us. They are perfect. We’ll treasure them forever.”

There is a beat of silence that is broken by the rumble of Derek’s stomach. We all glance at him, and he smiles and shrugs. “Breakfast?”

As the others agree with him, I lean into Emmy and whisper in her ear. “After breakfast, it’s my turn, and I’m going to play with you until you scream.”

Chapter 32

Darcy

I scan the space that has informally become my play area. Tucked into the corner closest to the bedroom, here I can find my peace among my ropes. Along both walls of my space is a rainbow waterfall of hemp and silk, hanging from a thin bamboo bar attached to the ceiling and falling to the floor.

There is a larger, thicker bamboo bar that hangs from the center of the space, which I use for partial- and full-body suspension. The smooth finish of the bar allows for the easy shifting of the rope as I manipulate the bound sub. But, today, it won’t be a part of the scene.

Derek may think he owns the space in our little group for orgasm denial, but edging is my world. However, today is about introducing Emmy to shibari—the Japanese art of rope bondage. Then maybe, in the future, we can play with some more orgasm denial. Between Hudson and myself, Emmy will learn to either love-to-hate or hate-to-love our scenes.

Stepping back from the custom-designed wooden chair—the binding prop for today’s scene—I do a final check of the rest of the area to make sure everything is where I want it to be.

The chair is in the center of the space. With the way I have the back positioned on a slight incline, and with barely any seat available, Emmy will have to give herself over to the bindings to maintain the position I’m going to put her in. If she doesn’t, every muscle in her body will be screaming at her tomorrow.

Hudson is sitting on a rolling stool by my cabinet of play things, ready for the scene in just his jeans. On top of the cabinet are the safety sheers and the toy I plan to use on Emmy.

Heavy, low acoustic music fills the apartment as we wait for her to come out of the bedroom. I sent her to shower and use the bathroom after breakfast because, once our scene starts, the only way it will end is if she uses a safe word and I cut her free—or when I say the scene is over.

I’m praying it’s the latter.

Xavier and Derek left shortly after breakfast, leaving the three of us alone. Just like yesterday, we have pre-organized everything. Hudson is helping me with my scene, and Derek will be helping Xavier.

Hopefully, Xavier’s scene won’t be a stumbling block for us.

The air shifts, and I turn to face Emmy as she peers around the bedroom doorframe, trepidation pulling her features tight. My timid princess is back.

Smiling, I hold my hand out to her. “Come here, princess.”

Just like every other time I’ve called herprincess, her cheeks pinken and my chest tightens. Fuck, I hope she enjoys this. Everything so far says she will. She enjoys being restrained, restricted, held down, so it isn’t a leap to think she will like being bound.

She slips out from behind the door and, as requested, is wearing the short silver robe we purchased for her and nothing else. Her hair is pulled up into a messy bun, the whole thing looking like it will overflow at any second, which works nicely for my plan.

By the end of this scene, I want her to be wrecked.

I close my hand around her smaller one as she laces our fingers together and pull her into my arms and press a kiss to her forehead. Emmy melts against me, and I hope she can’t hear the way my heart is beating heavily in my chest.

---