Page 29 of Sugar Baby Mine

When I finally get to Ben’s apartment building, I almost turn around and head back for the bus.

It’s a high rise on the Upper West Side. Which I guess I should have expected, but somehow I wasn’t prepared to come face to face with the fancy building. The glass doors and touchscreen buzzer make my apartment feel like it’s straight out of the stone ages in comparison.

I put in the door code he texted me earlier and slip through the double doors as the lobby doorman greets me from the deskwith a tip of his head. He doesn’t give me much of a second look, turning back to the book in his hands. I breeze toward the elevator as my heels click against the tile flooring.

Ben is on the tenth floor, which makes me a little queasy to think about. I don’t love heights, so I won’t be going out on his balcony if he has one.

When the elevator opens to his floor, I turn to the right to walk down the hall and count the numbers on the doors until I’m in front of 1011. Seconds, maybe minutes, pass as I stand in front of his door like I’m frozen in place.

Instead of raising my hand to knock on the door, I keep thinking about what his apartment looks like inside, how he’d probably have an aneurysm if he ever saw my bedroom, what his neighbors are like, how I am going to look them in the eye if I ever see them considering what I think this man is going to do to me tonight, if he’s a live or fake plant person, the fact that I’m not sure I remembered to put perfume on, and how I still didn’t do those dishes—

My phone rings.

I pull my purse up and dig through the open zipper to look at the screen. Of course, it’s Ben. He told me to be here at 6 p.m. and now it’s past 6:30 p.m. Instead of answering the call, I raise my hand and rap my knuckles against the wooden door.

It doesn’t take long for the door to open, revealing a veryconcernedlooking Ben. A hand runs through his hair with his brows knitted together in a frown.

“Emmeline,” he says, reaching his palm out toward me. “Do you know what time it is?”

Slipping my hand into his, I allow him to guide me through the doorway. “Well, I do now. I didn’t realize I was running behind.”

Not exactly a lie.

Ben gives a littlehmmnear my ear, his hand slipping from mine as I squeeze by him and he closes the door. “I’d like toknow if you’re going to be late in the future.”

“Noted.”

I pull my purse off and hang it on the hook in the entryway as his hands reach my shoulders, brushing the length of my hair away from the back of my neck. Breath blows over my ear, fingers trailing down my shoulders and arms as he tugs my jacket off.

“So you do own a jacket.”

“Yes,” I try to turn, but he holds me in place. “It’s notthatcold outside. I would have worn your gift, but it didn’t really go with this outfit.”

He hangs my jacket up next to my purse. His palm returns to cup my upper arm as his fingers slip beneath the fluttery sleeve of my dress. My skin blooms with goosebumps beneath his touch. His other hand rests on my hip, fisting the green, gauzy material.

“You wore the heels, though.”

I’m not really sure why my response comes out so breathy, “As requested.”

“They look just as good on you as I imagined they would. Will look even better when they’re all you’re wearing.”

I can’t fuckingbreathe. My lungs burn as I take a breath in, slow and utterly shaky. I don’t want to seem so affected by that,by him, but I’m doing a piss poor job of it.

My hands reach for his just as he turns me in his grasp, walking me until my back hits the wall. I nearly stumble on said heels, but he holds me up, his hips pinning mine in place as his hands cage me above my shoulders. I tilt my head back, drinking in the way the expression on his face changes to one of carnal beauty. His gaze lowers from my face, slowly tracking down my body and then back up. Heat licks up my spine, my skin flushing under the weight of his stare.

Ben licks his lower lip, his hand dropping to grip my chinbetween his thumb and forefinger as he tilts my head further back, leaning in. The spice of cinnamon wafts over my lips. “I like your hair down like this, but I’ll miss the ease of a pony tail to wrap your hair around my fist.”

“I have a hair tie in my purse,” I say like an idiot. Or maybe not, if the way he smirks is any indication.

“It’s fine. We’ll make do.”

The thought of being manhandled by him is not unpleasant in the slightest.

His thumb swipes over my bottom lip, and my mouth drops open for him—I’m not sure whether to be angry that he’s actively trying to smear my lipstick or that he hasn’t kissed me yet.

“Ben…” I murmur, gripping his arm and waist, my nails digging into the soft fabric of his pullover to bring him closer. He looms over me, his hand slipping from the wall to my shoulder, tracing the neckline of my dress down to where the line of buttons hold it together. My body thrums beneath his touch, alighting a craving for more. He toys with the top button, thumb sliding it free. When I look down, he grips my chin in his hand tighter, pulling my face back up.

“You are so beautiful,” he says, lips ghosting over mine. “Here’s how tonight’s gonna go…” His beard scratches my cheek as he feathers his lips across my jaw, my ear. I roll my body against him in a shudder when he speaks again. “We’re gonna eat dinner, you’re gonna take your punishment like the bad girl you’re trying to be, then I’m gonna have my dessert.”

---