“Okay, missy, spill. I’ve been good. I left you alone when you got home last night and basically fell into a post-sex coma. And this morning, we were both rushing, even though you had a massive smile on your face. But now that the orientation seminar is over, we both have an hour to kill before our first classes. Details. Don’t hold back, I want to know everything. Was it like the first night? Were you on, you know, restrictions again? Did they tie you up? I saw you take ibuprofen this morning, are you okay? Do we need to swing by a store and get you anything? I ordered you that pillow, by the way. It should arrive today—thank you, overnight shipping.”
Oakley’s rambling is both cute and impressive. I’m not sure how she gets enough breaths in for the words to just flow like that. I haven’t heard a discernible gap, which is almost frightening.
But she’s right. I did get home and crash, and if it hadn’t been for her waking me this morning, I would have totally missed the opening speeches. Turns out, they were boring as fuck, but I’m pretty sure it’s one of those life milestones that I’m sure I’ll be glad I checked off at some point in the future.
The final thing I remember from last night is seeing several notifications on my phone.
SugarLife
$10,000 has been deposited into your vault.
SugarLife
Brat4Us has validated your account.
Club Obsession
You have been added as a guest to Obsession by Master Derek King.
The transfer of all the cash into my bank account is already processing. Apparently, it’ll take two to three business days. Which is totally fine. Friday night’s money will be in my account tomorrow, hopefully. I just need to make it through today with the last of the money Oakley leant me.
Which brings my wandering mind back to Oakley.
“Okay, but I have an important question first,” I state as I adjust my backpack. “Where are you taking me?”
“Ah…it’s called…you’ll see when we get there, but it’s the on-campus coffee shop,” she replies before linking her arm through mine and squeezing a little too firmly over a spot that is slightly tender. “Now, details. I’m dying.”
I laugh, still under the surreal spell that I woke up in this morning. Going from the weekend to a mundane first-day-of-college Monday morning has been a real mindfuck. My body is kind of wondering where my orgasms are, but yeah, everything aches.
And as promised, there was a buttload of messages on my phone waiting for me this morning. I did my best to reply to as many as possible, but I plan on going back through them all when I have more than two seconds between toast and a shower.
“Okay, do you want me to start at the beginning or the end? Hot tip, the end is far more interesting,” I offer, as we follow along a winding curved path that is leading us through a large, open grassy space that’s buzzing with activity.
There are students sitting around on the grass in groups, a game of football going on between a bunch of guys with no shirts on. The way they are built, I would say they are probably a part of the Newton University football team.
Another group of guys, all wearing aqua and black baseball caps, call out to the football players, and a discussion starts. A high-pitched squeal comes from my left, and I turn in time to see two girls running toward each other for a hug that has them clashing together.
I feel like my head is on a swivel, trying to take it all in.
“All right, start at the end. But no distracting me from finding out actual”—she lowers her voice—“sex thing details.”
I burst out laughing. “Oaks, if you can’t say it out loud, I’m not sure I should be telling you.”
She huffs. “I just don’t want everyone else hearing what we’re talking about. It’s none of their business. Besides, I did some internet searches while you were gone, and I learned some things.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “What things?”
She opens her mouth to answer, then glares at me. “I know what you’re doing. Stop distracting and spill already.”
I grin. When was the last time I felt this carefree? Knowing I have my own money, a stable roof over my head, easily accessible food, more time with my daddies, and potentially, my first ever chick friend is nothing but a huge rush of endorphins.
How is this even my life right now?
“Okay, well first, they gave me all of my rewards from the night before,” I start and quickly rattle them off before she can ask. “Backpack.” I grab the strap and give it a little adjustment, then pull my phone out of the pocket of my denim skirt. “Brand-new phone.”
Then I show her my bracelet. “Jewelry. And a shopping spree for a whole new wardrobe. And some art supplies.”
Oakley comes to a complete stop on the path. There is an annoyed noise made by the people behind us as they have to step around, so I quickly get her going again.
“Holy shit.”
“Uh-huh,” I reply, remembering each separate moment with the guys and how impossible it had all seemed.
“And that was on top of the, what? Original ten thousand dollars?” she asks, eyes bugging out of her head. “Damn, maybe I need to broaden my search filters.”
I shrug a shoulder. “Up to you. Maybe start smaller, though? Do some of the hand job or blow job dates.”
“The what?” she whisper screeches.
I side-eye her. “I think they were ‘getting handsy’ and ‘just a quick taste’?”
Her eyes bug out of her head. “Oh my god, they do not mean that.” I stare at her for a moment, and if it’s possible, her eyes widen even more. “No way.”
I shrug, again. “You’re the SugarLife app expert, you tell me.”
“I am so messaging my sister about this,” she mutters before returning to the conversation. “Okay, tell me the rest.”
“Well, they have requested another extension,” I say as we round the corner of a huge building and see what is clearly the coffee shop built into the ground level.
“Shut up! Another one?” she exclaims as she grips my bicep with both hands and jumps up and down, with me basically dragging her along.
“Yup.” I nod as I reply, grinning at her.
I scan the space, and there are picnic tables everywhere, some with massive umbrellas protecting people from the sun. There are a few massive, gorgeous oak trees here and there, lending a shaded vibe to the space.
“For how long this time? The rest of the week?”
I’m about to answer her, but it’s my turn to pause mid-step. “No, they fucking did not.”
Oakley follows my gaze to the sign above the door and laughs. “They did.”
I stare up at the sign. “They called their shop Grinder? They do know what it means, right?”
“I have no idea,” she replies as we push through the door, a little bell jingling and cool air-conditioned air chasing away the heat from outside. “I think it has something to do with a pun about the coffee and all of NU’s sporting teams, but I’m honestly not interested enough to figure it out.”
We silently make the mutual decision to stop discussing my sex life while we wait in line to order. A few people separate us and the barista taking orders, so I glance around the space.
There are tables and chairs everywhere, and there doesn’t appear to be a discernible layout. People just pull tables together to fit the number of people in their group.
In the space farthest away from the counter, there are a bunch of couches and comfy-looking chairs by a fireplace, which I imagine is a popular space when the cold weather hit.
“What can I get you?” a perky voice asks.
The girl at the counter, wearing glasses and a big smile, doesn’t appear much older than us.
Before Oakley can jump in and order anything, I step up and place my order. “Iced chocolate, please, with whipped cream. And my friend will have…”
“You don’t have to get me a coffee,” Oakley protests.
I laugh and shoot her a grin. “I’m using your cash, so really, this is on you, anyway.”
Oakley rolls her eyes at me and laughs too. ”Fine, I guess I’ll get a medium caramel macchiato in a large cup, half and half, with two pumps of vanilla, two extra pumps of caramel, extra caramel drizzle, whipped cream, and sprinkles.”
The barista taps away at her screen, and I stare at Oakley, horrified at her order.
She mock glares at me. “Aren’t we going to be friends who don’t judge each other?”
I widen my eyes, look away, and mutter under my breath. “Only if not judging won’t lead to the need for an insulin pump.”
“Name?” the barista interrupts.
“Emery.”
I remove my arm from one strap of my backpack and sling it around to the front, so I can fish my wallet out to pay with cash, then we turn to find an available table. I spot one tucked to the side, against the exposed brick wall. Floating shelves above the tables that line the wall host a random variety of decorations, which makes it look like someone blindly selected things from Home Goods.
As soon as our butts meet the seats, Oakley hits me up again. “What are the terms of the new contract? You didn’t say before.”
I bite the side of my finger. “Six months.”
“Six!” she shrieks, the noise ending in a happy crescendo as she pops up from her seat.
Nearly everyone turns to face us. The bell above the door dingles again, which just makes it worse, because the new people enter to a completely silent room. I smile and wave awkwardly before grabbing Oakley and dragging her back down to her seat. Conveniently, the barista making the coffees calls out a name and the chatter restarts. “Shhh, jesus, Oaks. Keep it in your pants.”
“Six months. And what’s the gift this time?” Her face isn’t hiding her excitement at all.
I hesitate and glance at the door as people leaving catch my eye. Is this really something I should be sharing with her? It’s a shit ton of money. More than I expected to see, even in my first year after graduation. Will she be jealous? Will it ruin our budding bosom buddy dreams?
Oakley rolls her eyes at me. “Em, babe, I’m living for this. It’s like you are the main character in a rom-com or something. Could you imagine if they all end up falling in love with you, but then you have to choose just one of them to marry and start a life with? Swoon.”
She tips back on her seat and throws the back of her hand against her forehead, but I can’t find the comedy in her words.
Choose?
No. Nope. Absolutely not.
I’d prefer to have none of them, than only one. My heart aches at the thought of only having one of them with me, short or long term. I’m not delulu enough to think that they will pick me forever—well, mostly not. But maybe for a couple of years? While I’m in college, at least. That would be amazing.
And as for the marry-and-start-a-life thing? No, thank you.
A two-bedroom house with a cat is enough for me.
Absolutely no interest in starting a family.
Zero.
“Anakin Skywalker, I swear,” she promises, drawing a cross over her chest, big baby blues all wide and open.
With a deep breath, I try to shake off the nerves and open my mouth to answer her, but then a feminine voice calls out my name.
“Emery!”
Relief hits me at the tiny reprieve, but the moment I look toward the barista, my heart sinks into my ass.
Derek, Darcy, Hudson, and Xavier are all standing at the counter, in slacks and button-ups and looking fucking handsome. It’s like some sort of weird slow-mo movie effect, where all four of them turn and look at me.
The easy smiles on their faces drop, and my confusion is written on their faces. The noise of the café fades away and is replaced by the rapid beating of my heart.
What are they doing here?
“Order for Emery!”
“Ems, you okay?” Oakley’s voice sounds like she is speaking to me from underwater.
Slowly, I get up and go to collect our coffees, never once glancing away from the four men who spent the weekend rearranging my chemical makeup. But with every step I take, their expressions change to something that looks like irritation and worse. Anger.
I stop several feet away from them, the length of the fancy café coffee machine between us, and start to collect our coffees. My heart pounds in my chest and my entire body feels hot. All my internal warning alarms are going crazy right now.
Something is not adding up.
Why the fuck are they here?
And why do they appear angry with me?
Did I miss a text message?
Before I can collect my coffees, a hand latches on to my forearm, and I’m jerked away from the counter.
I stare at the back of Derek’s head as I’m all but dragged through Grinder’s door, back out into the warm air. Even if I could get free of his grip, there are three hulking presences behind me, who I highly doubt will let me get away.
“Wait—”
“Not a word,” Derek grits out as he leads all of us around to the other side of the building, which seems to be all but abandoned, compared to the coffee shop side.
We come to a sudden halt, and then I’m backed up against the brick of the building so fast, I’m a touch winded. The four of them crowd into me, blocking my view of anything past them. Ice fills my veins as they all stand there staring at me.
Derek, Darcy, and Hudson all look very annoyed, while Xavier’s face is neutral. Shit, what the hell is going on right now?
“What are you doing here, Emery?” Hudson demands, his icy blue eyes are narrowed and hard as they drill into me.
Nausea churns in my stomach. “I—’
“How did you figure out where we work?” Darcy asks before I can respond.
My heart hurts at the confusion on his face. “No, I—”
“You need to leave.” Derek’s voice is low and a little scary, to be honest. “Now.”
Tears prick at my eyes and my chest aches, but fuck that. I stamp my foot. “Would you let me fucking answer?”
When all they do is glare at me, I take that as a yes.
“I go here. Today’s my first day as a freshman. I had no idea you worked here,” I say as quickly as I can, my voice getting quieter as their expressions change faster than I can understand, but they all move in a direction I’m used to. Dangerous. “I live on campus.” That last bit is said on a whisper.
Something is going on right now, and my heart is racing too fast for me to think. All I know is that it can’t be good. At all.
The warm and fuzzy feelings that I have been holding on to all morning slowly turn sour in my chest. My fingers tingle and I am pretty sure I am hyperventilating, but I can’t be sure, because everything feels like it is flowing towards me through a tunnel.
“You’re a student?” Hudson asks, his voice hard, even though his face has gone a little pale.
“Yes. First day,” I repeat, still unable to talk above a whisper.
Not good. Not good. Really not good.
I reach back and brace my hand against the brick of the building to try and ground myself. It doesn’t help.
“Fuck!” Darcy shouts and turns his back on me as he brings his hands up to grip his styled man-bun. I flinch a way from the violent movement, and Xavier shifts to my side.
When Darcy turns back, the anguish on his face guts me. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
I don’t get a chance to answer. Derek steps in between us. “No.”
I glare at him, nausea bubbling inside of me. “What do you mean, no?”
“No. You can not be a fucking student at this fucking school. Why the hell didn’t you tell us you are a fucking college student?” he demands, his face as hard as stone, any trace of the warmth he had held from me yesterday completely frozen away.
“It’s not like we spent hours getting to know each other,” I fire right back ignoring the way my flight instinct is screaming at me to shut the fuck up. “What’s going on? Why is this such a big deal?”
Derek stares down his straight nose at me. “Why is this such a big fucking deal? You are a goddamn student, and we are all professors. Us being together goes against the code of conduct for Newton University. This could cost all four of us our jobs, our careers. You could get expelled.”
I swallow. Okay, well, yeah, that’s bad. “But we didn’t know. Surely, we can explain that we were together before we knew, and then everything will be okay? We won’t have to end this. It’s pre-existing or whatever.”
I reach out to him, but he brushes my hand away before I can place it on his chest. He looks to the others, and I can feel their silent conversation. The way they lock eyes with each other, jaws clenching, I know the outcome isn’t going to be what I want.
Almost as a unit, they step away from me. My heart aches.
No, no, no. This isn’t happening.
Not now.
I only just got them. They only just picked me.
We have a goddamn contract!
“Wait, no. Please, can we talk about this?” I plead, reaching out for them. “Daddy, please, don’t—”
“Don’t call me that.”
Derek’s reprimand feels like a physical slap, and I flinch away from him.
There is the briefest hint of sorrow before his features harden again and he continues. “We are not your daddies. You no longer have permission to refer to us as such. This,’ he waves a finger between them and me, ‘is done. Our arrangement is over. Do not contact us again.” His words are like a guillotine, slicing straight through my heart.
I watch as they turn and walk away, disappearing back around the corner. The ice in my veins hardens, slowly freezing me to the spot. My fingers tingle, my chest aches, and my stomach is one giant gaping shotgun wound.
How the hell did we get here?
My throat swallows over and over, attempting to stop the nausea, as I slowly fall to my knees onto the grass, staring at where they disappeared.
Over. Done.
They left me.
They’re gone.
They aren’t picking me.
They aren’t fighting for me.
I’m alone.
Again.
Why doesn’t anyone ever fight for me?
To be continued . . .
