Page 29 of Sugar Baby

Is it because he isn’t here?

Or because I said I wouldn’t do this anymore, and here I am, going back on my word?

But this time is different, right?

This time is for me. For my future. Not to save Tray from some fuckup or to help him get ahead. Or because he feels like a fuck.

Goddammit, he has taken up far too many of my thoughts over the last twenty-four hours.

Cutting ties with him was supposed to clear my life of him.

It’s been three weeks since I last saw him, not that he knew that was the last time he was going to see me. I’d kept my plans for myself to myself. He hasn’t reached out and neither have I.

My phone buzzes in my hand and I glance down at the screen.

Holy shit, I only have two minutes until they arrive.

Below the time is a SugarLife notification and, holy fuck, there it is. My first half of their gift.

SugarLife

$5,000 has been gifted to you from Brat4Us. You can find your gift in your Vault.

My pulse thunders as I slowly stand, unplug my charger from the wall, and go to the closet, where I stashed all my things, and put my phone into my bag.

Feet slightly heavy, I walk out into the main area of the room and look around, making sure everything is where I left it.

My teddy bear is on the couch, and my coloring book and massive crayon pack are on the coffee table. A music channel is on the TV, and I consider changing it to a kids’ channel but decide not to. If they want it to be on cartoons or something, they can change it.

I kneel beside the coffee table—my back to the door, because I have a feeling I’ll need the extra few seconds to gather myself—and pour out a few of the crayons.

I select one at random, not even sure what color I pick, and start coloring the first picture that interests me—a kitten playing with a ball of wool.

Okay, I can do this.

As I fill in the kitten with blue, I start to settle, my nerves turning from blaring alarm bells to a quiet noise far off in the distance.

I can do this.

Chapter 13

Derek

The elevator music is jarring against the tension that fills the tiny space, which is barely large enough for the four of us.

Thirteen people maximum, my ass.

The metal of the doors is polished within an inch of its life, allowing me to see the other three in its reflection. We’re all dressed relatively the same—slacks and button-up shirts. Xavierand Darcy both have the sleeves rolled up to expose their inked forearms.

As the numbers on the display panel increase, the more blood rushes below my belt, like the two things somehow correlate.

Tonight is going to kill off a dry spell we have all been going through. Not so much in terms of sex, because that’s not an issue; there is plenty of that for us individually. But in terms of a woman willing to meet all of our needs as a group? We haven’t found that in over a year, and that event wasn’t satisfying enough for the amount of effort we’d put in to get the night in the first place. Nor had it filled the bank for the intervening time since then.

Hopefully tonight will prove differently.

All of the pictures we’ve received today indicate that it will be.

Emmy . . . She’s gotten to all of us already.