Page 39 of Brat Baby (Sugar Life #1, #3)

Emery

The hot water from the rainfall showerhead cascades down my bowed head, and I watch as the water runs into the drain. A shiver like ice starts in the center of my back, curving up and over my shoulder, and down into my legs as a stray thought about that amazing fucking machine pops into my head.

I’m still not positive that my brain has settled in my head properly.

Everything is still the tiniest bit floaty.

Tingly. It’s been a few hours since my last orgasm, and I spent most of that time in front of the TV, curled up with a blanket and with Teddy, constantly replaying Xavier’s heartbeat.

Blue and Rocky were there, too, but they were backup dancers to Teddy’s lead.

I would have happily stayed there for the rest of the day, but food was delivered by one of the security guys. The usual knock at the door and me asking them to leave it by the door. Wait. Then open it to get the food.

As much as I’m sure those G.I. Joe wannabes are discreet and all that shit, I don’t need them to be all up in my business. Or my daddies’ business.

This apartment is just for us, no intruders allowed.

Dinner included several Mexican dishes, enough for four actual adults, not my mini-adult size. The upside was that I got to try a little of each.

Thumbs-up on the enchilada, bowl, and burrito. I can take or leave the nachos. There was a whole lot going on, almost too much.

Also, I think I’ll be eating naked a lot more often. The whole thing was some sort of Marie Antoinette bullshit. Reclining back, food scattered around me, tits cooled from the air conditioning, and pussy getting aired out.

Definitely a repeatable activity.

Another repeatable activity is standing under this rainfall showerhead. I’ve typically only used the adjustable head at face level, but tonight I felt like washing my hair.

Water pools in the cup that I’ve made with my folded arms and boobs, overflowing my forearms and down my stomach. I have zero idea how long I’ve been standing here, but it’s long enough the hot water should have run out. But it hasn’t. Though I don’t know what this magic is, I approve.

This shower, cuddles with Teddy and a blanket, and deluding myself into thinking I can smell them on the pillowcases are the only things getting me through them not being here to give me cuddles post-orgasms.

I’m not sure I can spend a whole other day here tomorrow alone. I’ve gotten all my studying done, even gotten a chapter ahead in all four classes. My first two assignments have a basic structure that I need to spend more time on, but my brain is fried.

Maybe I should go back to the dorm tomorrow? Or maybe… maybe I could ask Hudson if his offer to go shopping this weekend is still available? That could work. As soon as I can manage to leave the magical powers of the shower, I’ll—

The bathroom suddenly goes completely dark. I jerk to look up at the room, but the darkness is so complete that I can’t even see the door or the light that should be shining through it from my bedroom. The only sound is that of the running water splashing onto the tiles.

Oh, and my own fucking pulse inside my head. Because that’s incredibly fucking loud.

Did the building lose power?

My heart aches with how hard it’s pounding in my chest. I try to take some deep breaths to ease the tightness as I reach for the taps to turn the water off, the magic suddenly gone.

I’ll find my phone, and then there will be light again.

It’s fine, I’m fine.

I have to fight really fucking hard to stop thoughts of dark, malicious eyes and even darker curls. I’m safe here. Tray hasn’t found me. And even if he has, he isn’t smart enough to figure out how to get into this building.

Plus, there is Rambo downstairs and three separate swipe panels. It’s most likely that the building lost power.

Everything is fine.

As I find the taps, relief starts to burn away at the nerves that have taken over my mind.

Cool air swirls around me, and I only have a second to acknowledge that there shouldn’t be any cold air in this shower before a large hand wraps around my throat, squeezing, and drags me back until my back is against a warm, solid body.

A warm, solid, hard, naked male body.

Oh shit.

My throat constricts on the partially inhaled air, and I instinctively raise my hands up to the hand and pull as hard as I can, lungs screaming for a single inhale.

Real fear tears through my veins as I come to the conclusion that no matter how much I yank, scratch, or fight, I can’t get him to let go.

I can hear the choking noises coming from my throat as I gasp and try to get in even a tiny mouthful of air. My lungs burn . I need fucking air, right now.

If he won’t let go, then he is going to have to hold all of me.

The man grunts as he is forced to take all my weight after I bend my knees.

As soon as he is hunched over me, I throw my head back and nail him in what is hopefully his nose.

There is an angry groan, which makes my heart spike.

But I don’t give a fuck. I’m not fucking dying in the shower of a fuck apartment.

Heart hammering, I reach for his arm again and manage to get it slightly loosened, but any success I might have found is destroyed when his other hand comes into play.

With the practiced ease of someone who has attacked hundreds of people, I’m turned toward the wall and shoved against it, face-first, my cheekbone glancing off the cold tile.

Pain flares, but I don’t stop trying to get away. I kick back with my foot and try to scratch at the arm that has its hand lost in my hair, pulling it so hard, I think it might actually come out.

But then I hear it. The noise that tells me that I’m ultimately going to lose this battle but that also settles something in my heart.

A schnick of a blade popping free.

There is a dark, quiet laugh as I slump against the wall. “Oh, don’t go quiet now, little dove. Fight for your life. Show me how much you want it. I’d love to watch your blood swirling with the water as it runs down your body.”

Hunter.

Adrenaline makes it hard to think, and I might throw up. My entire body trembles from a combination of confusion, terror, being pressed against the cold tiles, and no longer being under the warm spray of the water.

A thin line of fire runs down my spine, from the base of my neck all the way to my tailbone. I suck in a breath when the blade starts to dip between my ass cheeks.

Am I really going to stand here and let him do this to me?

Fuck, no.

Pressing both palms into the tiles, I shove my entire body back. There is a painful zing on the inside of my crack, and for a second, I think I may have impaled myself on the blade, but then it’s gone and the pain doesn’t increase.

My tiny moment of hesitation costs me, though.

After a harsh tap to each of my ankles, my legs are spread apart, and I have to scrabble to get purchase against the slick tiles.

The knife reappears, aimed at the base of my throat. “Good girl, that’s it. Save yourself.”

The words are gravelly and quiet, right next to my ear, lifting all the tiny hairs along the curve of my neck and down my shoulder blade.

My eyes close as the blade shifts with each of my breaths. I’m definitely going to have a mark there with how the skin is sparking with pain.

Will he really hurt me? Like actually hurt, not kinky hurt. One is fun, and the other is so definitely not.

The thought paralyzes me, because I don’t really know the answer to that question, do I? I barely know this man. And he has always been on a leash held by the other three. But now, it’s just the two of us, and he fantasizes about my blood spilling from the cuts he makes in my skin.

“Don’t tell me all your fight is gone.” The mocking tone of his voice irritates the fuck out of me. “I expected you to have a little more in you.”

What the hell does he expect me to do when he has a knife to my throat, my legs so far apart that if I lift one, I’ll fall, and his hand gripping my hair like a goddamn clamp?

“Fuck. You,” I reply through gritted teeth. I try to twist in position, but that just causes a flare of pain in my scalp and for the point of pain to turn into a line along my throat.

“You, Emery Nichols, have a filthy mouth for a girl who only turned eighteen a few weeks ago. I can’t wait for it to be sucking down my cock again. Kneel.”

The grip on my hair drags me down, whether I’m ready or not, my forehead and cheek sliding down the tile, hitting every sharp edge, until I’m forced to awkwardly squat with my ass pressing into his hard dick.

“Turn around.”

Managing to drop to both knees, I force myself to turn, putting distance between me and the wall, hands held up by my face like I’m the bad guy and he the good. I’m protected from the spray of water, his body blocking it from me.

Through my wet lashes, I come face-to-face with his fully hard dick as it bobs right in front of my face, the glint of the piercing a real fucking tease.

Slowly, I shift my gaze up, tracing over those fucking amazing abs, over his chest and up to his face.

The random drops of water from his upper body onto my face make it hard to keep my eyes open, but I fucking try.

My vision has adjusted somewhat to the dark, and I can see him but no real details, and fuck, I wish I could see his eyes. Maybe they would tell me what is going to happen now. Kink or something else entirely.

But all I have is a dark outline of him, his wet curls hanging around his face as he peers down at me. My vulnerability meter is in the “escape now” zone, but this position is messing with my head.

Last time, even though I didn’t know it until the end, one of the others had been with him. But I highly doubt that is the case tonight. Not with how he has been sneaking into my room each night. We are alone. It’s just me, him, and his blade.