Page 2 of Sugar Baby Mine

It would be weird, wouldn’t it?

Granted, I couldn’t have imagined the scenario in the first place beyond a hot celebcall me Daddysituation, which is just fodder for a good masturbation session, but my first instinct is that it’s not for me. Just spending time with someone is one thing but fucking someone my father’s age? Kind of an ick. Or am I just actually picturing my father? Because if so, rightly,ew.

What. Is. Wrong. With. Me?

Cora knocks my arm over from where I’ve got it sticking straight up in the air. I don’t even know when it got there. It just happens sometimes. The movement sends a shock through my shoulder, and my fingers twitch as I settle back against the bed.

She throws me a pointed look, and I scrunch my nose up at her.Like she’s so fucking normal.

“It’s not like typical girlfriend-boyfriend dating. It’s you providing them time, presence, attention, and pleasure. In return, you get what you need. But you’re not a normal girlfriend, you’re a sugar baby. There’s less expectations.”

Of courseI catch on the wordpleasureout of that spiel.

“And let me just say that guys our age do not know how to treat a woman. I think you’d be pleasantly surprised.” Cora grins, the look in her amber eyes downright dangerous.

“Pleasedon’t start telling me sex stories right now.”

“Since you asked so politely, I’ll refrain. I recommend doing some research on the subject, though, and of course, I’m always available for a Q&A.”

She stands from the bed, robe billowing out behind her as she heads back to the vanity. Her legs cross over one another, with dainty slippers that cost more than my entire wardrobe on her feet. She continues to curl her hair into immaculate ringlets before running her fingers through the strands, gently creating soft waves. She hums under her breath as she readies at a leisurely pace.

Watching her is soothing; it always is. I can’t help but fold my arms up under my head, looking up through my bangs and tucking my chin in to watch her finish getting ready. I don’t think I could ever be as graceful and put together as her. If that trait came from our mothers’ side of the family, well, it skipped me entirely.

“Where are you going tonight?”

“To Le Bernardin,” Cora says while carefully applying hersignature red lipstick, something she wouldn’t be caught dead leaving the apartment without.

One of the most expensive restaurants in the city. No big deal.

I look down at the bag of gummy bears stuck under my hip. Pulling it out, I reach in and pop a red one in my mouth. It tastes sickly sweet all of a sudden. Grabbing another, I squeeze it between the points of my fingernails until its little orange head pops off of its body.

“Sounds fun. I…have a date, too.” A sculpted brow raises in my direction, and I fucking scramble. “A Tinder date, but you know. A date. Or whatever.”

Casual. Cool.

“Okay…I won’t be home until late, so if you get murdered—well, text me or something,” Cora says off-handedly, fastening a red velvet choker around her throat.

“A fool proof plan, that is. Have fun with your daddy.”

She blows a kiss my way and I slide off the bed, catching it in my hand and closing my fist. Scrunching my nose up, I toss it toward the pink, sparkly trash can by the vanity, laughing at her affronted gasp.

“Love you,” I drawl, flouncing out of the doorway while fumbling with my phone to pull up Tinder. I needed to find a date like yesterday.

Throwing myself into the bathroom, I sit on the closed toilet lid and hunch over my phone like a gremlin on a mission. My index finger slides across the screen—left. Left. Left.

Leftleftleftleftleftleft.

With pause, I study the next picture on the screen. My first instinct is to swipe left again, but how many times have I ever actually swiped right? My Tinder repertoire takes more than two hands to count out, but the number of those dates that have turned into sex is far less.

This guy isn’t bad looking, per se.

His profile reads:

Sam Paris

21. 5 miles away

“One hell of a guy” –Fitness Today

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