Page 6 of Good Girl

A stunning black, chrome, and reflective kitchen appears. Then a bedroom with an absolutely massive bed. But the next photo...damn. I’ve seen some of the pieces of furniture in my recent research. A St. Andrew’s Cross. A pillory. A spanking bench. A wall of paddles, whips, and crops.

Holy shit, how many do they need?

Brat4Us:If this doesn’t suit you, we are happy to book a larger suite at the same hotel for the entire weekend. Let us know your preference, and we will take it from there.

My preference? I don’t have a fucking clue. Does accepting the apartment as our location for the weekend mean I am saying yes to all of...that? I mean, I’m not against it. The idea of being cuffed to that spanking bench and being forced to choke on one of their cocks while another paddles my ass has my pussy trying to rally.

And the fact that I’m even thinking about sex shit like that is mind-boggling.

Could I spend an entire weekend at their mercy? Letting them use all of that on me? Or should I opt for the hotel room and force them to keep the kink light?

We would have that limits discussion again, though, right? I could tell them my yeses and noes, and then I would just have to trust them to keep to their word. And after tonight, I feel fairly confident that, while they are fucking filthy bastards, they are gentlemen.

So, apartment or hotel?

I allow the heavy thread of want that is running through my veins to tempt me as I reply.

SugarBB_Emmy:The apartment, please, Daddies.

My message isReadimmediately. Bubbles appear, and I nibble nervously on the side of my finger as I wait for their reply.

Brat4Us:Perfect. Here is the address. Please use a rideshare or taxi and arrive in one hour.

A link to a map appears next. I raise my eyebrows when it loads—it’s actually super close to campus. Not quite walking distance. Convenient. Besides, they probably don’t want it to too close to their actual homes or workplaces, because that would look sus as fuck.

Four men in their late thirties all sharing a one-bedroom apartment, with women coming and going. Yeah, sure, nothing shady happening here.

I exit out of the map and return to the chat.

SugarBB_Emmy:I can be there in an hour. Do I need to pack anything, other than my new lingerie?

Brat4Us:We may choose to keep you naked and ready for us in the apartment all weekend, but just in case we want to take you out, it would be good if you brought a couple of outfits with you. We prefer sundresses.

Naked and ready? All weekend?

My thighs clench while my brain misfires, only picking up on keywords. I feel like I have drunk my weight in alcohol with the way I can’t seem to connect the dots on things. One thing I do know? I need to respond, then I need to go ask Oakley if I can borrow some sundresses—whatever the fuck those are.

SugarBB_Emmy:Yes, Daddies. See you soon xx

I can’t help but to brat, just the tiniest bit.

SugarBB_Emmy:P.S. My pussy feels stretched and used. I can still feel you all inside of me.

Chapter 4

Emery

Oakley not only lent me several sundresses—cute little floral things that barely covered my ass and had my boobs pouring out of the top—but she also supplied a pair of ballet flats and a set of heels. Very conveniently, we wear the same size shoe.

The little baby-pink rolling suitcase that I pull out of the back of the cab is also courtesy of Oakley, as is the little handbagI have hanging from my shoulder. I’m really going to have to thank her somehow after all of this. She’s basically bankrolling my start into this sugar baby thing. All she asks in return is that I message her every few hours and that I dry clean anything of hers that I wear, besides shoes.

“Thank you,” I call into the interior of the white sedan, then close the door, having already organized payment with a tip. I’ve never had enough fucking cash topaysomeone, let alone tip.

The last sixteen hours have been a complete mindfuck.

From one dollar and six cents in my bank account, to a pending transfer of ten thousand. And just over one hundred left from the bills Oaks loaned me.

Imagine if Tray could see me now. His dark brown, narrow eyes would be glinting with all the ways he could spend my money.

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