Page 77 of Good Girl

Emery’s eyelids flutter open, and she stares directly at me, more alert now. “Daddy…” Then she nods, slowly at first, confusion clouding her beautiful eyes because she is clearly starting to understand that we’re asking about beyond the weekend. “But—"

“How about you go take a shower,” I say, cutting her off, my heart thudding in my chest with nerves.

We aren’t ready to have this conversation. Xavier still needs his scene with her, and it will be the most challenging one by far, even though it is relatively tame for him. For Emery, this will push her fear to the limit, something he thrives off of.

If she loves it as much as she has loved our other scenes, only then can we have this conversation.

Hudson stands and holds out his arms to Emery. “Come on, kitten. Let’s get you cleaned up, and then we can cuddle for as long as you like.”

Darcy shifts forward as Hudson lifts her into his arms, blanket and all. Then the three of them walk toward the bedroom, disappearing from view when the door clicks shut. I turn to face the far corner of the sectional, where Xavier sits quietly. I’m not even sure Emery saw him sitting there, since her back was to him.

For the briefest moment, so quick I’m wondering if I imagined it, I swear I see longing.

Fuck, I hope she enjoys her scene with him. Otherwise, this very delicate bubble of hope that has started to form among the four of us is going to shatter, and I’m not sure we will be able to come back from that.

Chapter 37

Emery

Oakley:How’s your *kitty emoji* doing? Waving the white flag yet? Do you need me to order you one of those donut pillow things?

My cheeks ache from the grin that spreads across my face. I’m coming to really enjoy Oakley’s snark. It’s mixed in with a very large dose of innocence, but the fact that her judgment—at least,via text message—is basically non-existent, makes me want to keep her forever.

She didn’t give a fuck when she told me about her sugar dating activities, even though we are stuck living with each other for a year.

She didn’t try to stop me from going to my first gangbang, going so far as to bankroll it.

Then she supplied me with everything I would need for my extended weekend with the daddies.

And finally, she has been texting me every few hours to make sure I haven’t been turned into chop suey and dumped in the river.

I pull my legs up higher on the couch and tuck one under my butt. While I am tender, I’m not in actual pain. Everything just feels really well used. Like, really, really well.

Me:*kitty emoji* is doing just fine. She thanks you for your concern and wants you to know she has been very well looked after.

Me:And that would be a no on the donut pillow, lol. But thank you for the thought.

Staring at the messages, I fiddle with the pompom hanging from the sparkly case of my phone and wonder when I became the type of person who refers to her pussy in third person.

Bubbles appear immediately.

Oakley:I should hope so, with how much they are paying. That *kitty emoji* should be one pampered kitty.

Oakley:Are you sure? I found this super cute one!

Oakley:*Picture of pink-iced donut, with sprinkles and eyes with long eyelashes and a purple bow*

I shake my head at the phone, my grin impossibly wide.

Bosom buddies, for sure.

I mean, she is probably going to annoy the fuck out of me long term, but at any point, she’ll just need to bring up the fact that she Anakin Skywalkered my weekend fuckfest and kept all relevant details ready and available for the cops if shit went south.

But it so hasn’t gone south. Not even a little bit.

I’ve eaten more food and drunk more water this weekend than I normally would in an entire week. After every scene, there has been an entire bottle of water, a shitload of cuddles, and then a plate so full of food that I’m not sure even one of the daddies could finish it all.

Lunch today was the same. A giant gourmet sandwich from some fancy deli place. There’d even been little containers of different kinds of salads to go with it. I’d barely managed a third of what had been put on my plate.

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