Page 16 of Brat Baby (Sugar Life #1, #3)
Emery
“Is it really only Thursday?” Oakley asks as she flops down onto the couch beside me, having just finished a phone call with one of the many sugar daddies she entertains.
She told me yesterday that she is strictly a daddy’s girl. No mommies for her. Which I can totally appreciate. Chicks are hot and everything, but I don’t want to get naked with one.
“Yeah,” I reply absentmindedly as I stare at my phone in confusion, a forkful of mixed plate Thai.
“What’s up with you?” She nudges me with her elbow before she curls up her legs beneath her.
I turn my phone so she can see it. “I have SugarLife notifications from other accounts.”
Oakley concentrates on the screen for a few seconds, then grins at me. “Yeah, those are custom invitations.”
I raise my eyebrows and go back to obsessing over the notifications. “What do I do with them?”
She shrugs. “Whatever you like. Open them, read them, decide if they are a yes or no. Ignoring them totally is an option as well.”
“Right.”
There are over a dozen message requests and almost sixty likes on my profile. Honestly, besides doing the vault transfers, I haven’t had any need to reopen the app.
The rest of the money transferred in today. I kind of wish I held off on paying Oakley the money she lent me and then getting the Uber on Tuesday because I would have gotten to see thirty thousand dollars in my bank account. But fuck, twenty-nine thousand and change is nothing to cry over.
“I vote for opening them. Maybe they just want a foot pic or some panties you wore.”
I turn to stare at Oakley, horrified. “Oaks, please tell me you haven’t sent your panties to anyone.”
She shrugs, cheeks going a little pink. “It’s easy money. Plus, he sends me the panties. It’s not like they’re my panties.”
When I don’t respond immediately—because how can this be the same person who didn’t know what the categories stood for?—she jabs a finger in my direction.
“We are supposed to have an Anakin Skywalker agreement!”
“Sorry. I’m… a little impressed, if I’m honest. Also, did you use present tense? As in, you have a regular sugar daddy who sends you panties and you return them after you’ve worn them for what, an hour?”
She bites her lip and my eyes widen. “Two hours?”
Oakley looks away.
“Oh my god, half a day?”
“A whole day,” she mumbles.
I blink. Several times. “Like… twelve hours, or do you sleep in them?”
She turns to glare at me. “Really?”
“I’m sorry! No, not sorry, actually. Come on! This is fucking interesting, and I need to know. I told you about Friday night and how I had all the cocks in almost all the holes. You can tell me how long you wear panties for.”
She deflates. “I usually put them on after my shower before bed, wear them all night and day. I try to get a workout in on that day, too, make sure they smell extra… used. Then I put them in a Ziplock and mail them.”
My mind is fucking blown.
Not at the kinky thing, because of course there are people out there who like that sort of thing. But because sweet, laced-up, innocent, one boyfriend ever Oakley is sending her musked-up panties to a stranger from the internet.
Laughter bursts out of me.
She follows suit a second later, which sets me off even harder. It takes us ages to get back under control. My stomach hurts, and I can’t remember the last time I lost it with giggles like this.
“Okay, so,” Oakley starts, only a slight hiccup interrupting her words. “Are there any updates on your daddies? I don’t know if you have seen, but The Monarch forum has been abuzz with how there have been zero sightings of them as a group all week. Plus, how strict they’ve been in their classes.”
I might have seen, but I wasn’t going to tell Oakley that.
My obsession with checking the threads for sightings of them, to see if they are happy without me, has gotten a little out of hand.
Not to mention I have lurked around Grinder every morning in the hopes of seeing at least one of them, but nope.
“The only update I have for you is that they sent another reward. Two bottles of perfume.”
She blows out a breath. “Well, that’s boring. I was kind of hoping that at least one of them secretly accosted and had their way with you.”
As casually as I can manage, I unlock my phone and tap on the first SugarLife notification I see, hoping that my poker face is still adequate. “Nope, no accosting. They barely acknowledge me in class.”
“They are really giving up that easily? Their Monarch reputation makes them seem more… I don’t know, pursuant? It’s kind of disappointing to learn that they are just like other guys, moving on the moment it stops being convenient.”
“Mmmm,” I reply, still pretending to be distracted by the app—a request for feet pics goes in the maybe pile. I practice some box breathing in attempt to help with my sudden unsettled stomach.
From my sleuthing on the forums, I know the lack of group photos is weird. Most show them traveling in pairs, at minimum. I’ve only seen one photo of Derek alone, but it’s of him leaving Grinder with a tray filled with four coffees, clearly on his way to meet the others.
Are they fighting over this—me? But why?
They all seemed to be in agreement the other day, especially when they all turned their backs at the same time.
And then Darcy didn’t show up to our date.
And maybe Xavier’s sudden appearance two nights ago was truly about making sure I am looking after my cuts.
Which reminds me.
I pop up from the couch. “I’m going to go study in my room. Want to do breakfast together?”
The frown on Oakley’s face clears up, as well as the faraway expression. “Sure. Want to try Grinder again?”
Edging backward toward my bedroom, I grimace. “Sure, but we bail if they are there. I can’t handle getting yelled at in public again.” Or worse, ignored by all four of them. Although, we didn’t see them there today.
She nods as she pulls out her buzzing phone. “Deal.”
I leave her to whoever is calling and close my door before setting up to take my photos for Xavier. Everything gets set up the same way as usual—pillows for a stand, shorts and panties down around my knees, and my ass stuck out so that a hint of pussy is in the pic.
I take several, even zooming in for a couple. The zoomed-in pics show me what I started to suspect this morning. The cuts are all but gone. Some of the lines of the letters are nothing more than a faint pink line, which will be gone by the end of the weekend.
My heart pangs and my arms feel heavy. I don’t want them to be gone.
Looking at my wrist, I rotate the bracelet until I can see the pendant and rub my thumb over the engraved letters. DHDX.
He did say that if I’m good for him, the next time we play together, he’ll give me a new mark. I’m not sure if he said it in the heat of the moment, but that one sentence has left me with a painful bubble of hope. Continuing to receive the rewards isn’t helping, either.
Opening the messages with Xavier, I send him the pictures—all of them. Our entire thread is just me sending him pictures morning and night. But tonight, I decide to change things up.
Me: Daddy, they are almost gone *sad face emoji* When can I have some new ones?
My messages display as read almost immediately, but I don’t get a reply.
Sighing, I toss my phone to the side before retrieving my stack of textbooks, dropping them onto my bed, grabbing the laptop, and knee walking into the middle of the mattress. Once I’m comfortable, with all my things surrounding me, I get to planning my studying and assignment schedule.
I need to get back to focusing on my dreams, my goals. And I need to put them in the rearview mirror.