Page 32 of Sugar Baby Mine

He makes several passes, just playing with me, barely sliding his fingers inside before retreating, and I’m ready to punch him in the balls.

“Ben,” I whine pathetically.

“Yes, baby?”

“You’re an asshole.”

“All you asked me to do was check if you were wet. And this little pussy is fucking soaked for me,” he says with too much smugness to his tone. I turn my head in to nip at his neck with a snap of my teeth. “Now, now. It’s time for dinner.”

He gives my clit a hard tap with his wet fingers, and I jolt so hard I nearly knock a book off the shelf.

Ben pulls back to look at me and I know he’s assessing, cold and quiet calculations he files and stores away for later. Eachbreath, each sound, each movement of my hips and hands. He’s formulating a plan, drawing it out in his head like I’m the blueprint on his drafting table and he has to work out every little detail.

I’ll gladly show him.

Chapter 9

Dinner is an easy affair, if you count sitting with wet panties through the whole thing as easy. I’ve not decided if it’s better or worse thannopanties. It’s what happensafterthat’s a completely different story.

We’re in Ben’s bedroom, and he’s kicked the door closed. He pops a fresh piece of cinnamon gum in his mouth between his teeth as he nods toward the bed. The way his gaze drags over every part of me before he licks his lips has my skin burning up like a lit match. “Bend over the bed, face in the sheets, ass up.”

I make a noise low in my throat as I turn on my heels, and my hands clench into fists briefly before I stride toward the bed. I lean over the edge, pressing my face into the duvet as I arch my back and tilt my hips back.

“What a good girl,” Ben hums as he approaches. I can feel the cool material of his slacks brushing against the backs of my thighs as he steps up close to me. His fingers tug up the hem of my dress and he flips it up over my ass and it flutters against my back. A low groan tumbles from his throat, and I nearly shudder. “Your little white panties are so fucking wet, they’re practically see-through.”

My hands clench the duvet. He kicks my legs apart into a wider stance, and I lift my chin to look up at the headboard as his hands roam up the sides of my legs. The air in the room already feels hotter. The intimacy we’re crafting with just these touches, the promise of what’s to come, has my blood simmering under the surface.Moreechoes in my head like a mantra.

“Did you decide on a safe word, or would you prefer colors?”

I peek over my shoulder at him, and his gaze darts up to my face. Ben tilts his head to the side, palms sliding up my hips as his fingers slip beneath the band of my panties.

“Colors are fine. Green, yellow, red. I’m comfortable with that.”

His hands splay against my ass, a handful in each palm as he squeezes before slapping me on the release. I arch up, my mouth dropping open and any other thoughts in my head just empty out at the sting that blooms across my skin. A taste of what’s to come.

“I want you to cross your arms behind your back—let your arms fall if you want to stop. Sometimes words are difficult when you’re in a scene.”

Letting my grip on the duvet go, I shift and fold my arms across my back to grip my wrists in the opposite hand.

“Look at you, listening for once.”

I can hear his smirk before I see it as I turn my chin back over my shoulder to glare at him. “Just get on with it,” I say, bracing my knees against the bed. Though I’m ready for it, wanting it more than I can even comprehend as my core clenches tight in anticipation.

He doesn’t do asIsay, instead takes his time, running his palms over the curve of my ass, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of my panties to tease the skin and send tingles up my spine. I wouldn’t say I’m touch starved, but Ben makes me feel like I am, like he’s touching me for the first time in so long that it feels brand new. I want his hands and lips on every part of mybody.

“You’re gonna wear the color red so pretty for me,” he breathes out, eyes flickering up to mine before he begins to drag my panties down my hips to let them fall to my knees.

“Do with me what you like.”

“Dangerous words.” Ben flicks the clasp of his belt open and then pulls the leather from the loops in his pants in one singular, quick motion.

I blink as I watch him loop the ends together to cut the length in half, not dissimilar to a switch.

“Oh,” I say on an exhale as my blood begins to thrum in my ears.

“Oh yes,” he echoes as he yanks his pullover and undershirt overhead with one pull from between his shoulder blades.

My eyes roam his skin greedily—tanned and golden, smattering of dark hair on his chest and lower belly trailing beneath the waist of his pants. Perhaps the most shocking of it all is the sleeve of tattoos trailing down his right arm, and I want to learn everything about every single one. He’s cut and lean, and I want him to wrap those strong arms around me and hold me up against the wall as we fuck.

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