Sugar Daddy (6 page)

I lay absolutely still, contemplating my next move.

The sun rose about twenty minutes ago and I came fully awake, understanding that I was in Beck North’s hotel bed.

He’s on his back, one arm above his head on the pillow, the other resting across his lower stomach. He’s utterly gorgeous lying there totally nude, as the covers and sheets got kicked to the carpet hours ago. His mouth is slightly parted while he sleeps, and I remember in vivid detail what those lips did to me last night.

I lift my head and take a moment for the unfettered access I have to look at his body. My prior sexual experiences have been hurried and mostly with my eyes closed. There was usually a lot of fumbling in between hot kisses before falling to the bed, so with my foreplay experience there wasn’t a whole lot to see. Afterward, I never looked at my partner’s body. Didn’t have any interest, really, and I always covered myself up after the heat of passion cooled.

But Beck?

I’m totally dying of curiosity so I give in to it while he sleeps.

His body is perfect. He’s well built but isn’t overly muscular. His skin is a tanned a light golden color. There’s a smattering of dark brown hair on his chest, and another trail that starts from under his belly button and travels downward. He clearly takes care of himself, because the hair all around his penis is trimmed very short. Even though his hands are large and masculine, they are well manicured, and his hair looks rumpled perfectly…as if it were styled to look that great while still being a mess.

I look at his dick. I expect it might be overtired from last night. Right now it lays softly nestled in between his legs, still quite thick and long even in its rest.

I know exactly how thick and long it gets when it’s swollen to capacity as he fucked me no less than three times last night, in between handing me out orgasms as if they were treats from an ice cream truck.

Gently, I lay my head back down on the pillow and consider that.

A man gave me an orgasm.

Multiple orgasms.

With his mouth, with his fingers. Once, just with the pounding of his cock within me. It’s like once I started, my body was making up for years and years of having no sexual gratification.

That first one…oh God…it scared the shit out of me. I never knew anything could feel that good. Sure, I’d given myself the “O” before, but it was a mild quaking of pleasure that brought a soft smile to my face.

When Beck made me come that first time?

It was felt like the force of a nuclear explosion went off inside of me, and it shredded me from the inside out. It was so powerful that it rendered me nearly blind and deaf for a few moments. My brain was still trying to play catch-up with what it all meant before he pulled me to the end of the bed and put his mouth to me again.

The second time he made me come, tears leaked from my eyes from not only the joy of such perfect pleasure, but for the years wasted that I never felt such a thing before.

I have no clue why it happened and why he was the one to do it, but clearly Beck North simply doesn’t have a problem pulling them from me. I’m not sure if he’s magic or just so damned dedicated to the cause, but it was effortless on his part. I’m betting he could probably just look at me a certain way and I might explode.

My lips curve upward in a fulfilled smile, and for the first time I wonder if perhaps I’m not completely broken. I know I’m fucked up about a million different ways, but perhaps my ability to truly appreciate sex as something pleasurable was just lying dormant and wasn’t completely obliterated when I was raped.

Turning my head on the pillow, I look back at Beck. I don’t think either one of us expected to fall asleep, and I’m almost betting he’s not the type who likes awkward conversation the next morning. If I were a kinder, gentler Sela Halstead, I’d do the guy a favor and slip out of bed quietly, then slip even more quietly out of his life.

But I’m not kind or gentle.

I am, however, thankful and I want to thank this man for what he helped me achieve.

I push up, straight to my knees, and inch down the bed. I have no hesitation when I take his softened penis in my hand and gently squeeze it. At first, I get no reaction, but when I squeeze it again, it starts to expand against my palm. Gently I start to stroke it, watching in fascination as it lengthens and the tiny wrinkles of the loose skin start to disappear as blood fills his shaft. I’ve never watched a man get hard before and it’s fascinating.

“Sela,” I hear Beck murmur, and I tilt my head to look at him. His eyes are closed but there’s a smile on his face. “What are you doing?”

I don’t answer him.

I merely show him.

I bend over and take him into my mouth, straight back to my throat.

“Fuck,” Beck groans, and he pushes the fingers of one hand into my hair and grasps the back of my head. “Feels good.”

I moan my understanding and agreement against him, pulling up and down on his cock with hollowed cheeks and a swirling tongue. Beck, in turn, grunts and huffs out strangled sounds from deep in his throat. His fingers grip my hair but not hard, just enough to encourage my motions.

I’m relentless with him, bringing my free hand to his balls, which I gently roll between my fingers. My other hand follows my mouth up and down his cock, squeezing him in such a way that he curses and begs me to go faster.

So I do.

“Goddamn…Sela,” Beck mutters as he punches his hips up. I take him deep and that impresses him. “Fuck that’s good.”

Up and down, up and down I go. Savoring his taste and the satiny texture of his skin against my tongue. I pause at the top and scrape my teeth over the tip before taking him down deep again.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, and his hand pulls on my hair. “Pull off…I’m going to come.”

Swallow it.

All of it.

My head spins from the unwanted memory as I suck hard on my way up, let him pop free of my mouth, and then I jack him vigorously.

One, two, three…four times and he starts jetting semen over my hand and onto his stomach. I continue to stroke him as I watch pleasure contort his face and the cords of muscle in his neck contract from the force of his orgasm. I stroke him softly as he starts to come down, and finally he hisses out a long breath of relief.

His eyes open and he looks at me. “That was amazing.”

I give him a smile as I wipe my hand off on the sheet next to his hip. Shrugging, I merely say, “I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Beck’s brows furrow inward as he contemplates the return of a favor. “Did you enjoy doing that the way I enjoyed having my mouth between your legs last night?”

I refuse to blush and hold his eyes. “Yes. Very much.”

And that’s the truth. Up until the very end when past and present started to blur, what I liked most about that experience was in listening to Beck make all those sexy sounds. Knowing that I was responsible for so much pleasure was a turn-on itself.

“Then it’s not a return of a favor,” Beck says.

“What’s not?” I ask, now lost in the conversation.

“You said you were doing me a favor. That would have bruised my ego badly if you only did that as a return gesture.”

I nod in understanding. “Gotcha. I did that because I wanted to show you my appreciation, but I also very much enjoyed doing that to you.”

Neither one of us mentions the fact that I didn’t swallow and I wonder how important that is to him.

It’s not something I ever do for men, having my first experience forced upon me, but for some reason I think I would with Beck. If he hadn’t have pulled me off, I was so lost in the experience I might have swallowed, and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have been wigged out about it.

“Listen,” Beck says as he sits up, leaning his weight on one hand planted in the mattress. “I’m going to take a shower.”

And, here it comes.

The brush-off.

He may not have kicked me out last night after our last round, but I suspect it’s because he was too tired. But now Beck is reiterating the point he made to me last night and that I readily agreed to.

This was a one-night stand and nothing more would ever come of it.

I start to roll out of the bed, intent on finding my purse and my clothes, when he stops me dead. “Want to join me?”

Looking over my shoulder at him, I raise an eyebrow. “In the shower?”

“Well, yeah,” he says with a smirk. “We’ll shower, we’ll fuck…then I’ll even take you to breakfast.”

I blink at him slowly, wondering what the hell is going on here. He’s looking at me as if he doesn’t want to let me go.

And for the first time since I left the party with Beck last night, I have an attack of conscience. From what I’ve read and observed so far, he’s seemingly a good guy, and here I am using him. He showed me unbelievable pleasure last night, made me feel semi-normal as a woman, and apparently wants to take me out for pancakes.

It’s not computing.

“Um…I need to check the messages on my phone, but I’ll be there in a moment,” I tell him, needing a few minutes to collect myself. I’ve got too many emotions swirling and competing for supremacy. I have got to get my head back on straight and remember why in the hell I’m even here.

I turn away from Beck and swing my legs out of the bed. I’m not even self-conscious in my nakedness, merely walking out of the bedroom and into the main living area of the suite. Beck calls after me, “Will you grab me a bottle of water from the fridge?”

“Sure,” I say over my shoulder, and I can hear him turn on the shower.

I walk to the mini-refrigerator that’s part of a built-in liquor cabinet and pull out a bottle of water. What in the hell should I do?

Beck North wasn’t on my radar yesterday. Now I’ve spent an unbelievable night with him, and he still has apparent interest in me. While I don’t presume to think he’s going to enter into a sugarship with me, I’m definitely not getting kicked out onto the street. Now I just have to figure out how to play this.

Walk out that door right now and be done with this? Figure some other way to get at JT, which will take longer, though?

Or do I try to hook Beck even further, draw him closer into my web, and use him to get in close enough to strike? No guarantee that will work. I mean, for all I know, he’s going to fuck me again, buy me breakfast, and then cut me loose forever.

My fingers fiddle with the label of the bottle in my hands, contemplating which route I should take. Either one will still put me on a path to my goal. One will be easier, although I’ll be sacrificing some of what few principles I have left to use Beck in that fashion.

The upside is more time with Beck. A little bit more time with a man who makes me feel like a real woman…whole, undamaged, and full of potential. That’s a benefit I never would have expected, and I’m a little ashamed that it’s something that I’m even considering as important.

But fuck it…I like how he made me feel last night.

Decision made, I ignore my pile of clothes on the floor and head back into the bedroom. I lay the bottle of water on the edge of the mattress and pad silently toward the bathroom. A billow of steam wafts out the door, and in the mirror over the large vanity I can see the naked form of Beck as he tilts his head back under the stream of water while one of his hands rubs a bar of soap over his chest. Then down his stomach and right in between his legs, where he glides it around the base of his cock, over his balls, and back up his stomach again.

God, that’s so hot.

Then he turns around and I realize I’m going to get to look at his ass, something I haven’t had the pleasure of yet. The minute he turns, I get just a peek of those tight twin globes paler than the rest of his tan skin, but then my breath catches as I look at his back. My hand reaches out, grabs hold of the doorjamb for balance, and I look at Beck with narrowed eyes.

On his right shoulder blade, taking up no more than five inches or so, a tattoo.

A red phoenix taking flight with wings and tail of flame.

Oh holy fuck.

Red bird on a rib cage.

Red bird on a wrist.

Red bird on a shoulder.

Red birds fucking everywhere, closing in on me.

A surge of terror mixed with adrenaline punches into my stomach and I spin from the doorway, stumble but catch myself, before running through the bedroom and out into the living area. I hastily put my dress on, abandoning my thong and heels, which are back in the bedroom. I can’t even imagine how ludicrous I’ll look walking through the lobby to hail a cab in early November with no shoes, but I can’t give that another thought.

I have to get the fuck out of here.

With my heart pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears, I grab my purse from the table by the front door of the suite where I had left it last night and I leave, quietly shutting the door behind me.

I have no clue what that phoenix tattoo means, but I know one thing:

Right now, it scares the piss out of me.

I hang up the phone with my attorney and lean back in my desk chair. His news is not good, but it’s also not unexpected. I cannot force a buyout with JT unless he basically does something illegal regarding the business. And no…snorting coke in your office doesn’t count. The language is clear and it means criminal acts specifically related to the operations of the business and that are detrimental to said business.

But as much as I am bothered by JT’s behavior over the last several months, and it makes me extremely worried going forward, I certainly don’t want to find that he’s done something illegal. That just puts too much liability and risk on me, and I’d rather walk than face the potential of a criminal investigation brought on by a moronic and out-of-control partner.

So I need to either suck it up or break free.

The choice is easy right now…I’m going to have to suck it up and just ride his ass to stay focused. With us preparing to roll out the new Web platform that’s in development, this could mean a 40 percent increase in revenue with virtually no increased overhead, which means a huge chunk of change. I don’t own the proprietary rights to the coding—according to my lawyer—so if I walk right now, I’d be losing out on all of the gains when it launches next year.

So I’ll hold tight and keep a careful eye on my partner.

I have to say, while the news from my lawyer wasn’t good, it was a welcome relief from the multitude of insane thoughts that have been running through my head all day regarding my lovely and apparently skittish companion from the night before last. I’d been in the shower the following morning, soaping myself up, thinking of the way she worked my cock with her mouth. I got hard again and called out to her to hurry up. I got no response.

So I called out again.

Still nothing.

Curiosity got the better of me, so I turned the water off and got out of the shower. With a towel around my waist, I walked around the suite three times before I’d convinced myself she actually had left. It made no sense, especially because she left her shoes and panties. Panties I could understand, but leaving shoes behind in early November?

No way.

So she left in a hurry and I have to wonder what caused her to run.

Can’t believe the prospect of a shower with me and breakfast would be scary.

Unless…

Unless she was totally serious about getting close to that Sugar Daddy in Santa Clara. Maybe she really just wanted a one-night stand and had her sights set elsewhere. And not that this guy would be a better catch than me, but considering I told her unequivocally that I didn’t do relationships and not even to bother fantasizing about it, maybe that’s exactly why she jetted out of the hotel without even a goodbye.

Honestly, I thought the Santa Clara Sugar Daddy was a bunch of bullshit she threw at me to cover for the fact she really was sniffing around me for a potential sugarship. But now I’m not so sure.

What complicates things even more is the fact that I gave her the first orgasm she ever had with a man. I can’t even begin to describe what that felt like, knowing that I was responsible for bestowing that on her, and then being completely perplexed how a woman as beautiful as that went so long without finding a real man to pleasure her. Her past experiences must have been horrid, and just thinking that last night sent me into a mindless frenzy to make her come over and over again.

Sela called my name out many times and even cursed me when she said she couldn’t give me one more. I then proved her wrong and accepted two more from her. It was the hottest night of my life, showing that beautiful woman all the joys of some really fantastic fucking. And I stayed purely vanilla with her too, and it makes me hard just thinking about some of the ways I could make her scream.

Fuck.

I have got to stop thinking about her.

It’s over.

Done.

She left.

No way to find her.

Except…that’s not true. I fucking created The Sugar Bowl website. If she’s a Sugar Baby, with a few keystrokes I can access the database and have her house pinpointed in moments.

Drumming my fingers on my desk, I stare at my computer screen and ponder the merits of doing just such a thing. I mean, what would be the purpose? Just to fuck her again?

That actually sounds like a fantastic reason.

Lurching forward in my seat, I grab my keyboard and pull it toward me. I navigate my way into the internal database of Sugar Babies, as of this month totaling over 1.6 million registered from all over the world. That’s nothing compared to the almost five million registered Sugar Daddies who pay a flat thousand dollars to join, autorenewed each year. Do the math…you can figure out what that means. While our money comes from the Daddies, our current marketing efforts are aimed at trying to build up with more Babies. The bigger our pool of Babies, the more Daddies will join.

I type in
Sela Halstead,
and I’m surprised when actually three women come up by that name. I immediately rule out two of them, as they reside in Texas and Georgia. The third Sela Halstead has an Oakland address, so I choose that profile.

I’m immediately rewarded when a picture of her appears on my screen. Yes, that’s the gorgeous woman I fucked my dick raw with the other night, but the picture doesn’t do her justice.

My eyes scan her personal data, of which we don’t require much.

She’s twenty-six and I don’t find that surprising. Her face is definitely more youthful with the freckles and wide, innocent eyes, but there’s a wisdom there within their depths that tells me she’s got a few more years under her belt than your average Baby. Enrolled at Golden Gate University and rents a small apartment in Oakland. It appears she works part-time at a diner to help fund her tuition. No criminal record. Not even a speeding ticket. She’s the classic Sugar Baby.

I look at the Comm button and consider snooping further. The Comm button will lead me to the encrypted messages that Babies and Daddies use to communicate. I’m not doing anything illegal, as our terms of service include all members’ agreement that we are allowed to monitor activity to ensure no fraudulent or criminal activities are being carried out.

But do I really want to know just how far entrenched into a potential sugarship she’s delved? Or should I just close out the screen and get the fuck back to work?

Images of Sela’s back arched off the bed and the muscles in her pussy clamping down hard on my fingers the first time she came flash through my brain and I click on the button without another moment’s hesitation.

Scanning through the messages, I can see several potential Daddies have reached out to her. She’s responded to a few, but nothing more than a polite decline that she’s not interested. And then I see a long history of exchanges dating almost two weeks back with a man in Santa Clara, California.

Frank Webert.

And fuck…lame-ass name aside, he’s practically a perfect catch for her. He’s on the younger side at age forty-two, reasonably fit and attractive, and made his money in robotics. That means he’s super-fucking filthy rich.

I read the messages and he comes on strong with Sela. While there is no overt solicitation or request for sex, there’s enough innuendo in his messages to her that he expects it. Her responses are flirtatiously vague but promising, and she did agree to meet with him this upcoming weekend.

My bet is that he’ll have an agreement signed with her by Sunday.

I think about how that makes me feel.

I wonder if he can make her come the way I did.

I wonder if she’ll suck his cock like—

Surging up out of my chair, I grab my keys and phone off my desk. I look at her home address one more time and commit it to memory before logging off my computer.

I walk out of my office and tell Linda in passing, “I’m going to be out for the rest of the day. I’ll return calls tomorrow.”

“No problem,” she says with an affectionate smile. “Need me to do anything while you’re gone?”

I stop and look back at her, wondering if I’ve gone temporarily insane. “Yeah…as a matter of fact…print me out a blank sugar agreement.”

Linda blinks at me in surprise, momentarily stunned to inaction. I raise my eyebrows and lift my chin toward the printer that sits on the corner of her desk. She immediately jumps to it, taps her fingers on her keyboard a few times, and then the printer starts spitting out the document.

She pulls it off, staples the two pages together, and hands it to me with wide eyes. “Are you going to sign that?”

“I have no clue what I’m fucking doing,” I mutter as I walk down the hall toward the main door.

I check my watch for about the twentieth time and glance down Nineteenth Street. No sign of Sela yet.

I’ve been parked outside her Oakland apartment at the corner of Twelfth and Nineteenth, not sure what direction she’d be coming from. I’m taking a guess she’s using BART to get to and from school, so I expect to see her walking down Nineteenth from the train station. It’s all supposition, and for all I know she’s got a car that gets her back and forth, but I doubt it. That’s a chunk of change to pay for gas and parking over at Golden Gate, and if she’s in the market for a Sugar Daddy I’m guessing she’s a BART girl.

It’s nearing five p.m., starting to get dark, and I’m about ready to give up for the day. I’ve been sitting in my car nearly two hours and my ass is numb. I’m also starving, as I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I can always try again tomorrow. Or hell, maybe I should just call her. I have her phone number from the database.

Just as my hand reaches for the ignition, I see Sela heading straight toward me. The sidewalk isn’t overly crowded, although there are several people walking in both directions, but regardless…I recognize her immediately. I spent so much time touching and licking that body, I’d recognize it anywhere.

She’s dressed a far cry from her sexy dress of last night. Today she’s got on faded jeans that are ripped in one knee, black Converse tennis shoes, and a faded Raiders sweatshirt to ward off the chill. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail and she has a heavy-looking backpack slung over her right shoulder as she trudges toward her apartment building.

I hop out of my car and lock it, hoping it will remain safe enough in this neighborhood. While it’s not the worst, it’s certainly not the best, and I’ve heard Audis are popular cars to boost.

Heading toward the front door of the building, I lengthen my stride and make it there about a second before she does. I grab the door, open it, and her head raises up as she says, “Thanks.”

Her eyes flare large with worried surprise and she takes a step back from me. “What are you doing here?”

My hand shoots out and pulls the backpack from her shoulder, and fuck…that’s heavy. “Came to see you. You left without saying goodbye.”

“Wasn’t any need,” she says smoothly. “It was a one-night stand, right?”

“That’s right,” I say with an agreeable smile. “But I have to say, you had me worried when you left without even bothering to get your shoes. That tells me you were running, and I want to know why.”

For a moment, I think she might tell me to go to hell, but her shoulders sag. With a small sigh, she steps past me into her building and says over her shoulder, “Might as well come up and we can talk about it.”

Now that surprises me. I figured I’d have a bit more of a fight on my hands, but I graciously take the offer and follow her inside.