Page 39 of Sugar Baby Mine

“Paint my insides, Ben. I want that cum so far inside me I can taste it.”

He moans. “Goddamn, baby, I love that filthy fucking mouth. Can’t wait to watch you choke on those words when you’re gagging with my cock down your throat.”

A curse falls from his lips as he yanks his cock out and grips himself at the base before slapping the head over my clit, sending shockwaves up my spine.

I’m climbing higher and higher as I suck in a breath and hold it as he fucks up between the lips of my pussy, sliding over my clit with each pass. Pleasure washes over me in waves until I’m fucking shaking and my head knocks back into the bed.

“Fu—ck, Emmeline,” he grunts before sliding back into my pussy.

I clench around him like I never want him to pull out again. He thrusts into me and I press my heels into his chest as he leans in. His hiss and my moan of his name sound so good mixing together. He yanks on my ankle, his other hand digging into my hip and pulling me onto his cock as he slams into me. His hips stutter, making several deep thrusts that slow until he stops moving all together. His cock pulses inside me, his hot cum filling me up just like he promised.

Before I can catch my breath, he’s sliding a hand between us,finding the slickness between where we’re joined and gathering it to circle and pinch my clit with two fingers. It doesn’t take much with his hips still gently rocking into me and his fingers applying a pressure that has me gasping and throwing my head back again.

“That’s it, come for me.”

I whimper, clinging to him as I hold my breath, and just as I begin to grow dizzy, I tip over the edge into a coolness that soothes the burn that’s spread over my whole body. It spirals like a hurricane, quenching my thirst. He spreads my legs wide, and my knees drop to the bed as he brackets my head with his forearms and leans into me. His lips press kisses all over my neck and chest, his beard scratching my skin as he rests his weight over me, pressing us flush together. A sense of calm, like the moments after a summer storm, settles over me, a serene quietness that only encompasses the sound of us catching our breaths.

Ben’s shoulders finally relax as I walk my fingers up and down his arms and back, tilting my chin up as his fingers curl around my jaw to bring our lips together one more time.

He leans back to unlatch the delicate straps around my ankles as he slips the heels off my feet and drops them to the floor. I almost wince because those are more expensive than anything else I’ve ever owned. Then he rolls onto his side next to me, pulling me into his chest and rubs his hand up and down my spine, fingers caressing with a whisper-soft touch, and I melt into him like ice cream on a hot summer day.

If every time is like this, I’m in trouble.

Chapter 11

I leave in the morning while Ben’s still asleep. I’m not sure what time he gets up for work, but it’s 6 a.m. and no alarm has gone off yet. I don’t sleep well in general, even more so at a place that isn’t home. Which is why I’m the self-proclaimed Queen of Naps, so last night wasn’t really different from any other when I can’t get my brain to turn off its never-ending commentary.

I don’t really think about it until after the fact, I just get up and go because it’s what I’m used to. I don’t exactly imagine Ben waking up and making me pancakes while I cuddle his cat on the couch. Of course, we didn’t talk about it prior, but I get the feeling that he prefers his alone time despite this arrangement. His words at our meeting ring in my ears, and I certainly don’t want to seem entitled to his time.

Except my dress is ruined from where he tore it open, so I leave that on his floor and I pick up the soft, navy pullover he was wearing yesterday and pull that on over my head. The hem of it hits mid-thigh and combined with my heels, this walk of shame is going to be a blast. I leave my panties because I kind of like the idea of him finding them later. But I borrow a pair of his boxers from the dresser, resisting the urge to root around in allthe following drawers.

I sneak a peek around his bathroom after I pee. It’s clean and tidy, just like the rest of his apartment, with sparkling white tile and double sinks. The mirror doesn’t have even a dot of toothpaste splatter. He doesn’t have a medicine cabinet to open but rather drawers to snoop through, and I take advantage of that. I find a drawer with ten different kinds of dental floss and make a note to check out his teeth next time I’m up close and personal. But more exciting than that, I find his cologne.

Blue de Chanel. The dark blue bottle is large and heavy, with about a quarter of the liquid missing. I’m not ashamed to say I spritz it on my neck. It smells divine and even though my pussy is going to throb from now until I take a shower because all I can think about is Ben, well…maybe I’m just a slut after all.

When I pass Pebbles where he’s curled up on his tall cat condo in the living room, I contemplate catnapping him for all of two minutes. His sleepy purr and yawn as I pet down his sleek fur almost makes me break, but then I’d have to buy cat food and litter. How would I even get him to my apartment, carry him? I don’t even have pants on, so what if he scratches me and who knows if he likes to be held—so I just grab my jacket and purse, ordering a Lyft on the way down the elevator.

The doorman in the lobby stares a little harder than the one last night did, but I don’t exactly blame him.

When I get home thirty minutes later, I kick off my heels at the bottom of the stairs and scoop them up before making the climb. My thighs burn a little with each step, and I’m reminded of the fact that I never work out and sex is the most cardio I ever get. I should probably fix that. Or maybe I just need to have more sex.

I place my heels on the shoe rack in the small entryway of our apartment instead of leaving them laying on the floor like I normally would. I’d like to say it’s because they’re expensive and I don’t want to damage them, but maybe it’s more the fact thatBen gave them to me and I want to take care of them for him.

A shower washes away anything lingering on my skin; it was stupid of me to even use his cologne. When I put in the name online and see the price tag, it makes me wonder how many spritzes are in a bottle. What does that divide out to, and how much did I just waste? But I’m putting that bottle in my purse next time I’m at his place, because when I come out smelling like my cheap body wash that advertises an ocean breeze, I regret the shower more than I would sticky thighs later in the day when I’m chafing.

Dressing in jeans and a baggy t-shirt, I slip on the floral cardigan sitting on the end of my bed. I roll the sleeves up my wrists once, since they’re a little long, and finish getting ready to head to the flower shop. For once, I eat a bowl of cereal prior to leaving because my stomach growls angrily. I wonder when I gained a normal human attribute as I shovel frosted flakes in my mouth.

My phone vibrates from my back pocket as I’m slipping on my tennis shoes. I grab it up and sling my purse over my shoulder, slamming the door behind me and bumping it with my hip to make sure it’s locked.

It’s Ben.

| You left without waking me.

| What did you wear home? I would have driven you.

Uh-oh. Is he mad? I can’t tell over texts, man.

| Your sweater

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