Page 9 of Brat Baby (Sugar Life #1, #3)

Emery

“Ems, you’ve got a delivery!”

I pause, head craned over my shoulder in the process of checking my back in the bathroom mirror and trying to get the cream Xavier gave me onto a welt that is still a little open. My reflection frowns back at me. A delivery? I didn’t order anything. “What is it?”

“Come and open it, then we can both find out,” Oakley replies exasperatedly.

I roll my eyes. “One minute,” I call back as I finish checking my back before moving down to my ass.

Mine .

Apparently not.

More like, no one’s.

A heaviness fills my limbs as I internally struggle to get away from the emotional whirlpool of sadness, anger, fear, regret, and loneliness that all try to pull me under. Swallowing, I reach for the cream and squeeze a little onto my fingers before smoothing it over the reddened skin.

The physical wound itself is healing just fine, and I decide to go without the bandage. The cuts on my inner thighs and the bruises over my ass and down my thighs are further along in the healing process, with some patches of green and yellow showing through.

I’d say I have a week left with my marks, and then the evidence of their passion will be wiped clean from my skin.

The only thing I will have from them is the thirty grand in my account and the rewards they gave me, which for some reason, feels hollow.

Is it wrong of me to hope that some of the marks leave a permanent scar?

Just so I know the weekend was real six months from now?

Finishing my inspection, I wash my hands and pull on the pleated denim miniskirt and a loose-necked, light pink off-the-shoulder top. A few minutes later, I have done the bare minimum of brushing my hair, swiping on mascara and lip gloss, and exit the bathroom.

Even though I feel like trash on the inside, I decided this morning that, today, it will remain on the inside. I’m supposed to be fucking excited. It’s my first week of college. The first step to getting my dream life. This is massive. Huge.

I got out. I made it.

Now, I need to act like it.

So, from now on, even though my insides feel like they were put through a meat grinder, my outsides are going to be nothing but sunshine and rainbows.

Besides, I did an internet search last night when I couldn’t sleep about student-professor relationships, and the articles I found weren’t great.

Depending on the age of the student, some of the professors actually got arrested on top of losing their jobs.

Thankfully, being eighteen, we don’t have that issue.

Which means that if we are to continue anything, we would have to do it in secret. And really, that shouldn’t be too big of a problem, what with their sex apartment. We just wouldn’t be able to interact with each other on campus.

The evidence of our late-night delivery of pizza and ice cream litters the dining room table, which is the first place I look for the package, but it isn’t there.

“Here,” Oakley calls out, waving a hand at the couch seat next to her and then taking a sip from her mug. All her blonde hair is wrapped up in a haphazard bun that is hanging on for dear life on the side of her head. “Did you not order it?”

I shake my head and approach the couch. “Nope, the money from Friday night only deposited into my account this morning. I literally have no idea what this is. Also, I have zero idea how to do the online shopping thing.”

“Maybe it’s from them? And that is a tragedy RE the online shopping. We will be remedying that this week.”

I shake my head again, heart panging at the idea that they sent me a gift, while reaching for my bracelet.

“No, they were very clear about never contacting them again. So, I highly doubt they sent me anything. The gifts for Friday and the weekend have both been paid into my vault. And even if it is from them, how did they get my address? Literally, only you and the NU admin know I live here. I have no idea what this is.”

This turns out to be a basic thin brown cardboard box with all the usual postal stamps and markings. I lean over the back of the couch, and sure enough, there’s my name under the receiver section. The sender appears to be…

The electronics shop where Derek took me to buy my new phone.

Carefully, I reach down over the back of the couch and grab the box, picking it up like it’s a bomb, a sick feeling that I know what this is growing in the pit of my stomach. But it can’t be, can it? They said this was over. Why the hell are they still sending me things?

I look up at Oakley, and she immediately puts her mug down on the coffee table. She stands, rounds the corner of the couch, and comes over to me. “It is from them, isn’t it?”

I nod. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Do you want to open it?”

“Yes, but no. I mean, I want to see, but I don’t at the same time. They shouldn’t have done this. It’s their fucking rule.”

“Okay, well, how about I open it for you, then I can tell you what it is, and you can decide what to do after that?” Oakley offers, leading me toward the kitchen.

I mull it over for a second as I lean against the counter.

Despite my desperate need to confirm my suspicions, I also really don’t think I can handle the disappointment again.

Having Oakley vet the package for me eases some of the stress.

I don’t have to look if I don’t want to. “Yeah, okay. Let’s do that.”

She gives my arm a squeeze, then goes to the kitchen drawers and comes back with a sharp little knife. I bite at the skin on the side of my thumb, trying to make it feel less numb after she takes the box from me, puts it on the counter, and starts slicing through the packing tape.

Oakley angles the box away from me, lifts the lid, then gasps, her eyes zooming up to mine. “You definitely want to look at this.”

Regretting the toast I ate thirty minutes ago, I step forward and she turns the box to face me. My breath stops in my throat, and everything goes a little fuzzy as I stare at the contents of the box, my suspicions confirmed.

A laptop.

A laptop with a rose gold case. Just like my phone.

A folded piece of paper appears in my field of vision, and I have to blink a few times to focus on it.

“There’s a note.”

When I don’t immediately take the note from Oakley, she slowly lowers her arm. “Would you like me to read it to you?”

“Yes, please,” I manage to whisper as I take the box from her and back up to sit on one of the chairs by the table. I sit there, staring down at the pink electronic that I thought I was going to have to dip into the ten K to buy myself this week.

“Emery, this is your first reward of eleven. We expect to see you using it in class. DHDX.” Oakley pauses for a moment.

“DHDX? Ohhh, their initials. Right. And eleven rewards? Girl, twenty grand and rewards? I think I might need to start looking at getting myself some permanent daddies.” That last bit is said as a mutter.

I barely hear any of it. I just stare at the laptop, still in the box, but out of its packaging, like someone has already used it.

They knew about my shitty phone, so they replaced it.

They knew about my shitty backpack, so they replaced it.

They saw my lack of a laptop, so they got me one.

But they didn’t know that I had no laptop until after they left me sitting on the grass.

I am so fucking confused.

I’m not theirs to look after anymore. They were very clear about that. What the hell is going on?

Questions I can’t get the answers to swirl through my mind, and I’m sure I’m not breathing right.

I’m still getting my rewards, but I’m not allowed to contact them?

How is that fair? They still get to fulfill whatever kinky gift-giving thing this is, but I have to ignore them? To not touch? Not talk to?

My phone pings from my bedroom and butterflies explode in my chest. Is that them?

Did they get a notification that the laptop was delivered?

With the box in my hand, I dash to my room and grab my phone from where I left it charging on my bedside table.

The pom pom sways a little as I stare at the notification on my screen. A text message. From Xavier.

Did he buy me the laptop?

My thumb moves on its own, swiping to open the message.

Xavier: You have missed two photo check-ins. Send a photo this morning, or I will physically inspect your body, even if I have to do so in the middle of campus. Do not keep me waiting any longer, little dove.

I… what?

My brain is so fucking overloaded. They sent me a laptop.

A fucking laptop. After demanding that I never contact them again, like some sort of rule.

This thing is probably worth more than my phone.

I can’t accept this, can I? They terminated the contract.

So, wouldn’t that mean that the rewards chart was also terminated?

I. Am. So. Fucking. Confused.

My phone vibrates in my hand as another message arrives from Xavier.

Xavier: Now, little dove.

As if he is standing right behind me, whispering the words in my ear to cause a jump scare, my body jolts in place, and I quickly put the laptop box on my bed and shut the door.

Using a combo of the box and my pillows, I create a prop near the edge of my bed and lean my phone up against it.

Opening the camera app, I position the phone just right, set the timer for ten seconds, then turn around, pull my denim skirt up and white lace panties down to below my ass cheeks while my heart thrums in my chest.

I fold my arms against the wall and lean forward, sticking my ass out toward the camera. Hopefully this angle will give him the picture that he wants.

The beeps count down and then there is a shutter noise. Dropping the hem of my skirt and pulling my panties back up, I open the picture and try not to stare at the snatch snap before quickly sending it to Xavier. I follow it up with a message.

Me: Sorry, Daddy. I didn’t think I was allowed to contact you. I promise to send a picture tonight as well.

I hit send and immediately gnaw on the skin next to my nail. Is it okay that I called him Daddy? It just feels so right. Xavier feels fucking weird. He is Daddy or Hunter.

Bubbles appear as soon as both messages are delivered.

Xavier: 7:30. Do not be late. You will not enjoy the consequences.

Well. Okay, then.