Page 34 of Sugar Baby

The next beat of my heart is painful, like I’m in trouble and know I’m about to be punished, but I have no idea what I’ve done wrong.

Fake smile still in place, he offers me his hand, and I get the feeling that I’m being lured into the viper’s den. One misstep, and I’ll be filled with enough poison to make my heart stop.

“Hey, kitten,” he says quietly, using both hands to draw me into him. Standing between his spread thighs, I’m slightly taller than him, but he positions me to sit on one of his legs. I sit up straight, unsure where to place my hands.

I’ve never sat on anyone’s lap like this, except for Tray’s. But he would have me wrapped around him, usually with his hand down the back of my pants, cupping my ass for everyone to see.

My breath catches as this daddy’s hand lands on my bare upper thigh, fingers incredibly close to the slit in the lace that will allow him direct access to my pussy. The heat that Angel started is stoked by Viper’s teasing fingers as they draw light circles on the tender flesh.

Trying to breathe normally, I look into his eyes and wonder if he wants me to make the first move as well.

It’s as though he can read my mind. His gaze drops down to my lips, flicks back up to mine, before looking down again as he uses the arm supporting my back to pull me toward him. I go willingly, wrapping one arm around the back of his neck and placing the other on his chest to help me balance.

His lips are gentle, teasing at mine, as if he is trying to find the taste of his friend. But I’m barely concentrating on that sensation, letting him do as he likes to my mouth, because my entire focus is on his hand as it smooths up and down my thigh.It’s not the motion that has me so transfixed but the pressure and the digging in of his fingertips, which are surely leaving behind red lines deep enough to bruise.

He smooths the ache away on the upward slide, but continues the torture on the down stroke until my skin starts to protest and he feels me squirming in his lap. My eyes fly open, and I pull back from the kiss when I feel the hard length of him against my hip.

Is he hard from hurting me?

The ice in his eyes is darkened by the mocking look on his face. “What? Do you think we are going to make things easy on you? Dirty baby girls who whore themselves out for cash don’t get to complain about a little pain.”

I blink at him. And blink again. Dirty baby girl?

A little pain? Does that mean he’s going to cause more?

My throat locks up, and I squeeze my thighs together as a heavy feeling unfurls in my core. Words don’t come. And even if they did, I don’t know what they would be. Lust is making my mind fuzzy.

Before my thoughts start to unravel themselves, he pulls me up to standing and tips his head in the direction of the man with the blond curls. “Go to your next daddy, unless you want to end things now?”

I glance over my shoulder at the blond man, who stares back at me with a blank expression, arms thrown wide over the back of the couch and the armrest to his right. Viper stands up, holding on to my waist and crowding into my space as he leans down to whisper in my ear. “Are you going to be a bad girl for us, or are you going to scamper away like a scared little mouse? Are you going to take what we give you, or are you going to scurry away and not find out what we have to offer? Are you a good girl or a bad girl?”

Returning my gaze to his, I do my best to push away the haze that has fallen over my mind with his words. The way he saysgood girlseems like it’s a bad thing, that they want a bad girl. But their messages have been about a good girl.

Viper’s eyes give me nothing.

But it doesn’t really matter, does it? Whether I want to be a good or bad girl. Ultimately, what it comes down to is whether or not I am willing to stay.

And I am.

Just like Viper said.

I’m whoring myself out for cash.

My future. My dreams of my own house and a stable life.

That’s what this is about.

With that decided, I pivot on the spot but don’t make it far, since Viper’s hands still encircle my waist.

He leans down, his warm breath ghosting over my cheek as he talks in my ear again. “Good girl, go be bad for us.”

My pulse spikes at the use ofgood girl.

I focus on the daddy in front of me, the colors emitted by the TV screen flashing over his face as he watches me approach. He doesn’t move a single muscle as I take a few steps to the space between his feet. Looking down at him feels wrong, and I have the crazy urge to kneel between his spread thighs.

We stay like that, staring at each other—him lounging back with his arms and legs wide, the blond curls leaving him with a boyish look that is completely and utterly destroyed by the ruinous look in his eyes. Nervousness creeps in, but I can’t bring myself to break eye contact; it’s like I am trapped and can’t save myself.

I have no idea what he wants from me.

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