Emery sent Hudson a photo of a vibrator, but why?
“Why did she send you a picture of her purple cock?”
Both mine and Darcy’s questions remain unanswered until Hudson’s system seems to reboot and he comes back online. “Ah, I didn’t expect her to actually use it. Well, not yet, anyway. I thought maybe next week.”
“So, you sent it to her?”
He nods before plucking his phone out of Xavier’s hand and checking the photo again. “With a note.”
“What did the note say?” I demand, getting a little irritated with hownotforthcoming he is being. The urge to shake him until all the words fall out of his mouth is difficult to ignore.
“I can’t remember precisely, but it had three rules. The first one was that she had to send me a photo before she planned to use it. I…I think she is about to use it.”
We all sit in stunned silence so profound that the sound of the very distinct SugarLife notification from my phone is easily heard. All three sets of eyes swivel to face me, and I don’t hesitate to retrieve it from my pocket.
I place it face up on the table and tap the screen, my throat seizing as I see the private live invitation from Emery. Heat pools in my balls and my cock thickens so fast, I feel slightly lightheaded. “Oh, fuck.”
“What?” is the chorused demand from around the table.
“She just sent me a private live invitation.”
I can hear my pulse in my head as I make eye contact with Hudson. “I think she wants me to watch her use her new toy on herself.”
“What?”
“My personal account. You all know that I’ve been watching her public lives, but the other night, she wasn’t up for public consumption, and she allowed me a private live. She asked me what I wanted to see, and I told her I’d watch whatever she wanted me to,” I try to explain as I continue staring at the notification, my gut squirming with a mix of need and caution. “That night, I watched her fall asleep.”
“Does she know you are you?” Darcy asks.
“No,” I reply with a shake of my head. “She has never asked for my identity, and I have never offered it. She thinks I just like to watch her while I answer emails. But the information is all there, on my profile. I’m not hiding from her.”
Xavier snorts from across the table, but I ignore him.
My preference for watching is no secret.
The silence returns for several long drawn-out seconds.
“We’re watching it, right?” Hudson asks the question we are all thinking.
And as fucking wrong as it is, I think we are.
Emery is a smart girl. If she wanted to know the identity of the person she is talking to, all she would have to do is check my profile. While my actual profile picture is of my chest, which could be of anyone, the second photo is of my back and my custom tattoo—a woman tied face first to a St. Peter’s cross, lines of torment gouged across her spine, on the right side of my back.
She has seen it. She knows it’s mine. All she would need to do is look.
So either she has done the smallest amount of digging and knows my secret and is enjoying this game we are playing. Or she is perfectly content to stay blissfully ignorant and put on a sex show for a complete stranger on the internet.
And who am I to deny her?
I’m not her daddy right now. I’m merely a man who is weak for this woman and prepared to give her anything she asks for.
In answer to Hudson’s question, I stand and take my phone with me, turning on the TV while simultaneously opening the notification and accepting the private invitation before she has a chance to rescind it.
Have we taken too long? Will she have lost her nerve?
While it loads, I cast my phone’s screen up onto the TV, and as everything connects, my knees give out and I fall back onto the couch. There, in perfect high-definition, is my baby girl, completely naked on her bed, legs spread, purple cock sitting at the entrance to her pussy but not quite in, big hazel eyes staring at the screen.
“You’re here,” she whispers, eyes already a little hazy.
