Page 98 of Baby Girl
I stare at the words.
They are kind of…sweet. Like, sure, I got myself off for his viewing pleasure, but he wants to make sure I’m okay?
It’s weirdly wholesome.
I think? Maybe?
Whatever it is, I think I kind of like it.
“I was about to go take a shower,” I reply, gesturing at my general crotch area. “Got a little messy.”
EyesOnYou:Like I have said in the past, I’m happy to watch anything you would like to show me.
I raise my eyebrow. He wants to watch me shower? Well, I mean, it’s not like he didn’t just watch my pussy eat a purple dick.
Mentally shrugging, I quickly complete the last of Hudson’s rules and then gather the things I need for my shower and scoop up my laptop before carrying it all to the bathroom, oddly happy that we aren’t parting ways just yet.
Chapter 54
Derek
I hit the light switch in my hall bathroom and head back toward where the others are, all of us still recovering from Emery’s live performance. Not just in her bedroom but also how she angled the laptop in the bathroom so we could watch her shower, watch as she soaped herself up, her fingers and hands trailing around flesh that we haven’t touched in weeks.
If I hadn’t come during her bedroom show, I definitely would have from her shower. I didn’t even realize my hand was on my cock until Emery’s moans turned to pleas for more and I’d been forced to type one handed.
Fuck.
If she ever allows us a place in her life again, this is definitely going to be something we continue doing, especially on the nights we are separated.
I pause in front of the TV and stare at my baby’s beautiful sleeping face. She left the live running, like the other night. There is just enough light to make out her features. To tell that her full bottom lip has parted from the top, to see the way her cheek presses into her hand, forming a crease by her eye.
Her lashes create dark crescent moons below her eyes, and that little detail causes a pulse of the longing that sits just beneath my skin. My entire soul aches for her. My arms yearn to wrap around her, to hold her against me, to trace every single detail of her with my fingertips. To hear her laugh. To listen to her tell me about her day. To see her artwork. To help her with her studies. To watch as she consumes a meal I made for her.
To care for her with every fiber of my being.
Swallowing, I turn away from the screen and spot Hudson over by the wet bar getting refills for everyone. I glance over my shoulder to see Darcy and Xavier resetting the poker table, not that much needs to happen. We hadn’t even managed to get the blinds out for the first hand.
“You doing okay?” Hudson asks as I feel a sense of déjà vu in reverse, him handing me drinks to carry over to the poker table this time.
“Yeah, mostly. As amazing as that was, I would have much preferred for it to have been in person. Even if I was relegated to the corner of the room with a touch-ban in place, she wantedto be watched. And I can’t help but think that she has gotten the taste for it from me.”
I would even take one final conversation, where I can hear her tell me it’s over without everyone’s emotions so thick in the air they suffocate the five of us. She was correct to use her safe word in that moment; her fight-or-flight was activated. She needed escape, immediately. We’d spent an entire weekend drumming that knowledge into her.
Say red and it’s over. Everything stops.
And like the good girl I know she is, she’d taken that lesson to heart and used it when she needed it. She ended things the only way she knew how. And deep down, a very large part of me is so incredibly proud of her.
But I don’t say that out loud. We are all operating under the hope that, if we keep showing up, if we keep supporting her, if we let her know we are ready and waiting for whatever she needs from us, she’ll eventually give us the opportunity to explain and be with her again.
Or she will cut us free.
But until then, we will continue being here for her, waiting until she is ready to open the door for us again.
“She just needs time,” Hudson offers as we put the drinks on the table and take our seats once more. He glances at his darkened phone on the table, and I know he wants to open the second photo that Emery sent him—a picture of the purple cock, wet with her cum, the tip still inside of her.
Darcy hands me the deck of cards. “What are we going to do if she doesn’t come back to us?”
I start shuffling, the response I know I need to give lodged tightly in my throat. I don’t want to put the words out there, but I know I must. “Then we need to let her go. We let her live her life on her terms, and maybe, one day, she’ll seek us out again.”
