Page 33 of Sugar Baby

It occurs to me that I may need to make the first move here.

He doesn’t move, beyond breathing. His straight, dark brows lend a menacing quality to his features, which goes with the slightly-longer-than-stubble beard that frames his mouth and jaw.

I’ve never had to make the first move before. Usually, the man would approach me. Sometimes, he skimmed his mouth over my neck in what was probably supposed to be a sexy way but was way off the mark. At least those guys tried to make it good for me. There hadn’t been many of them, though.

Typically, the door would close, and they would tell me to remove my clothes, lie on my back, and spread my legs. Nothing beyond the use of a condom for prep, and then it was over a few minutes later. Some came in the condom, but most pulled out and shot their load all over me. Very few offered to help clean me up.

This is neither of those situations.

The way he smirks at me, eyes filled with a dark glint, says I need to make my mind up soon. “Changed your mind, princess?”

I almost scoff.

I’m no one’s fucking princess.

I’m also not this blushing, innocent virgin. And I have no idea why I’m acting so fucking timid.

This is just sex. I’ll spread my legs, they’ll fuck me, and then I’ll get what’s mine.

This is no different to any other time.

Actually, one thing is different. This time, I’m the one who will be getting paid.

My mind does some quick math, and I almost laugh out loud when I calculate what my hourly rate will be. Three-thousand-three-hundred-and-thirty-three dollars, assuming this lasts three hours.

That equates to over six-million dollars a year as a salary.

Reminding myself that the money isn’t mine yet, I refocus on the here and now. I make eye contact with the gorgeous man and take a deep breath. This is the daddy who liked my drawing. He told me it was perfect, and it made me feel so good inside, but then I had to tell the truth that it wasn’t finished. But he’d smiled and told me I could finish it after.

Forcing one foot in front of the other, I walk toward where he leans against the end of the dining table, his hands wrapped around the edge either side of his thighs, and his smirk slowly fades.

I have no idea what expression I’m wearing, but as soon as I’m within touching range, I reach toward the side of his face, tracing a finger down from his eyebrow to his cheek. I don’t break eye contact, not even when his hands close around my hips and I step between his parted legs, suddenly feeling tiny and delicate.

I’m not sure what I’m doing, I just follow my instincts. Bracing my hands against his chest, I lean forward until my lower bodypresses into his. The hard impression of his dick pushes against my lower stomach.

His gaze burns a path across my face and I let him look.

I know what he’s seeing. Oversized almond-shaped hazel eyes, dark brows, high cheekbones, and my perfectly styled, loose, wavy dark brown hair. Not to mention the freckles across the bridge of my nose caused by the summer sun, which I know make me look younger than I am.

I’m a goddamn baby girl wet dream, and he is a fallen angel.

But the longer I stand there, staring at him, the higher the precipice I stand on grows, and I know that the moment my lips touch his will be my undoing.

I thrust that thought out of my head and lean forward, my eyelashes fluttering shut as I press my lips to his. He doesn’t immediately engage in the kiss, so I grind my lower body into his and lick across his lips.

His fingers tighten, leaving divots in my ass cheeks, and warmth builds in my thighs as I lose control of the kiss. His tongue joins mine, and I’m swept into him as he devours me.

I want to press closer, want to lean into him, but the hold he has on me keeps me locked in place.

Before I’m ready, he pulls back, and that fucking smirk is on his lips again. I realize he baited me to get what he wanted.

I scowl at him, and he grins before he whispers quietly, “I’ll always give you what you need, princess, but it will always come at a cost.”

Confused, I stare back at him, but before I can ask any questions, his hand grips my jaw, and he forces another kiss on me, the pressure on my face one step away from painful.

When he lets go, he turns me, then thrusts me in the direction of the blond man. I catch myself before I stumble into him. His seat on one of the chairs at the table gave him a front-row view of my kiss with Angel.

My lips still tingle as I stare into his icy blue eyes, so much lighter than Angel’s. I’m sure his smile is supposed to soften the look in his eyes, but they remain hard, almost cold, like he is assessing me and finds me wanting.