Page 17 of Brat Baby (Sugar Life #1, #3)

Xavier

Seven twenty-eight.

My stomach clenches with anticipation as I take a sip of the drink Derek silently offered me before we started this poker game. We are only a few hands into the evening, and the tension among the four of us is sharper than the blades in my roll, not that I give a fuck.

What I do give a fuck about is this little game of cat and mouse Emery is playing with me. Always right on time. Never early. And I fucking love it. She is goddamn perfection, and she is mine. Just thinking about her makes my blood heat.

I know it’s the same for the other three, even if they aren’t willing to admit it now that we know she’s a student. Her being a student is irrelevant to me, but I get it. Derek and Hudson have worked their asses off to get where they are, and I respect that. Mostly.

For me, what she can offer me—us, them—is worth so much more than a career. The peace that enveloped me Sunday evening was worth the backlash of Monday.

I couldn’t give two shits about my job at Newton. The only reason I’m keeping my distance from my little dove is for these three fuckers. They care about Newton. And I get it. They chose it. Unlike me, who was placed.

However, if it comes to choosing between them and Emery, I think it’s pretty fucking clear what my choice will be, and everyone knows it. Hence, all this fucking tension.

Cards flick across the green felt to each of us as my phone lights up on the tabletop.

I glance at it, one corner of my lips lifting as I see that she has met the deadline by a minute.

A weight lifts from my chest as she proves to me that she can follow my instructions, but a restlessness rustles as well.

A part of me hopes she will miss another deadline.

That weight sinks heavily into the pit of my stomach when a second notification appears.

A second message. That’s not her usual routine. Since our… date a few nights ago, like clockwork, I have received a single message with a photo, sometimes more than one, by seven-thirty, morning and night. Nothing more, nothing less.

The phone is in my hand and open to her messages immediately. I barely see them load, however, before Darcy demands my attention.

“Xav, it’s your call.”

Tossing in roughly the right amount of chips, I know that shit is unbalanced between the four of us when no one calls me out on not checking my cards. It doesn’t matter, though. They’ll thank me for what I did. Eventually.

Play continues around me as multiple images load in the message preview. I tap on the top one and have to bite back a moan as I swipe through them. Each image is even more delectable than the previous.

She’s gotten creative today, zoomed-in shots, different angles. Her cunt. All my marks.

That pretty fucking virgin asshole.

I close the images and go to her text.

Me: Daddy, they are almost gone *sad face emoji* When can I have some new ones?

She wants more.

Heat runs down my spine at the mental image that explodes in my head. Red lines over her breasts, down her stomach. Inner thighs with beads of blood. Deeper cuts over her ass—

“Xavier.” Derek’s voice whips out, a sharpness to it that is usually reserved for misbehaving subs.

Slowly, I pan my gaze to look at him, but I don’t actually see him. My brain is too locked on my darkest urges sitting so close to the surface that I’m struggling to breath.

She wants more.

“It’s your call,” he states, finger tapping on the side of his tumbler.

I blink, slowly.

My fantasy to carve my name into her thigh comes rushing back to me. Yes, that. Maybe even deep enough that it’ll leave a scar that will turn faint over time, only visible in the right light.

“Xavier, are you okay?” Hudson asks as he lays a hand on my shoulder.

The contact brings me back to the room. I need to leave. I need to fucking leave, right now.

I can’t be here.

Gripping my phone tightly, I exit out of the messages and swap over to another app, one I coded specifically for Emery. It loads immediately, displaying a little dot on a map. The glowing blue dot is exactly where it was when I checked it fifteen minutes ago. Her dorm room.

She wants more.

Without a word, I push up from my seat, step away from the table, and go to gather my shit from the kitchen countertop.

As I exit, I hear my name called again and again, but I don’t stop.

She wants more.