Page 77 of Sugar Baby Mine

He chuckles deep and low. “Should I get you a matching leash?”

“I think the matching panties are enough.” I hook my finger over the scrap of lace that’s more fitting for a runway lingerie show than my body. But I can’t wait to wear them anyway.

“I’ll be there at five-thirty to pick you up.”

“Got it. I’ll be ready.”

He makes a noise that I can only attribute to a groan, andsurelythat can’t be because he doesn’t believe me.

The door buzzer rings incessantly through the apartment while I’m in the middle of flipping a flat iron through my hair to curl it, the sound making me jump. The hotplate touches my neck for only a second, but it’s enough for me to bang my elbow on the door and drop the flat iron in the sink with a hiss.

But it stops just as I wrap the towel back around my body, and I can only hope it’s Fred arriving for Cora. Because by no surprise, we’re all going to the same place tonight. She’s been ready for an hour already so she’s taken to complaining that the lowlights in my hair contrast with the dark purple of my dress, that the heels I have are too low, and also managed to convince me to take a pre-game shot with her. All of which have me absolutely frazzled.

I just manage to tie my hair up with a black ribbon, letting the curls hang delicately against the back of my neck when sheknocks on the bathroom door.

“Hey, babe, your man is here. Me and Fred are heading to get a drink at the Bathtub Gin. Unless you just want to join us at the gala in your birthday suit, you better finish getting ready.”

My heart beats a staccato rhythm. “First of all, not joining you naked. Second, my man iswhere, exactly?”

“I parked him in your room for easy pick up.”

Oh God. The shame that filters through my body is like a unicorn that just threw up a box of crayons.

“Thanks,” I hiss. “Have a good time with your daddy.”

“Have a good time withyours, cousin dearest. He’s a snack and a half.”

I hate her. I really hate her.

It takes me another five minutes just to finish my mascara and I’ve kept Ben waiting long enough. Plus, he’s alone in my room with my things. Not that I really think he’s going to judgeme, but he might judge the piles of clean, and questionably clean, clothes on my bed and floor, the half-finished knitted scarf sticking out of my nightstand, all eight water glasses of varying levels dotted in any place with a steady flat surface, and all of the other random shit spilling out of my closet.

Maybe once I’m dressed, I’ll feel more motivated to slather some foundation on. I’m tempted to just throw the lipstick on and sayfinite. But the thought of standing next to Cora while she’s so done up and flawless makes me wither. It makes me wither even if I had a full face of makeup.

Peering around the doorframe, I find Ben sitting on the side of my bed in just about the only free spot available due to all the clothes I’ve got scattered about. He’s looking at his phone, but his gaze snaps up when the floor creaks underneath my feet. As I step through the doorway, he doesn’t just eat me up, he swallows—his eyes sweeping up the bare length of my legs in what feels like slow motion, over my shoulders, only stopping to focus onmy lip between my teeth. My grip on the closure of the towel tightens.

He pockets his phone inside the jacket of his suit and crooks a finger at me.

I take a step forward.

The hard press of his jaw jumps before he clears his throat. “Come here.”

I take only one more step.

“Please.”

I cross to him in the remaining three, stepping between his knees that he widens and his fingers ghost along the backs of my thighs just below the fabrics edge. He tilts his head back, throat bobbing as his lips part. I can’t help it when I gather the knot of the dark purple tie and tug him forward until his chin brushes over top of the towel at my chest.

“Emmeline, do you want to go to this thing or not?” he asks, voice dropping low and husky as my skin heats up. “Because you need to get dressed before I pop a boner or we’re not gonna go anywhere until I’ve had my fill of you.”

At this point, I want to go as much as I want to stay.

My grip on his tie relaxes, and I smooth my hand down the satin more slowly than need be. His gaze doesn’t waver, but his fingers inch beneath my towel. The graze on the curve of my ass is feather light, but it ignites a spark that might consume me whole.

“Maybe you shouldn’t watch this part then,” I offer, the twitch of my lips ruining the sultry stoicism I’m going for. I untuck the knot of the towel, dragging it from my body to let it float to the floor.

Ben’s gaze remains on my face and I’m mildly impressed, but he tenses and makes a desperate noise in his throat when I lean forward over his shoulder to skim up the lace panties from where they’re laid out next to my dress.

“Help me put these on, please.”

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