I exhale as I step out of the black SUV, smoothing the ruffles on my sky-blue, high-waist, school-girl skirt. I flip my hair as I look up at the black onyx building emblazoned with the words Hemsworth Holdings. I whip out a small mirror I always carry about with and check my mascara, making sure my French-braided pigtails don’t have any hair sticking out, and nod, satisfied with it.
“I can’t take you enough for the ride,” I call out to the driver as he pulls away. When there’s a pedestrian break, I walk across the sidewalk toward the tall, imposing building. Where my presence has been gruffly requested.
Of course I have an idea why.
It’s the email I sent from that burner account.
I can’t believe my insane luck. Tristan really clicked on that link. I know him to be the strict disciplinarian who didn’t trust the unknown, nor had any ti for these little shenanigans no matter what. I was busy in the spa, thinking up a million other ways to get the website in his radar, when he called .
I look up at the sky and see the heavens smiling down at .
Judging by his steely tone on the phone, he has definitely seen my profile on the sugar babies website. I filled in an application to get featured on their sweltering hot corner last week, and my profile went live on the section last night. I’ve had over two-hundred friend requests, asking for my contact, and offering to double the amount I needed for my tuition. I didn’t read every single one of them because I wasn’t planning on giving in to any one of those leeches. I have my big daddy in mind, so I won’t give in to anything unless I fail at convincing Tristan to co for . To give us what we both desperately need.
What we should’ve given ourselves a long ti ago.
Please let him say yes and fuck .
Please don’t let him scold and throw out without anything happening between us.
It has been two weeks since I had his hands on and I feel like I’m empty, walking around like a zombie. I miss his touch, the scrape of his rough palms, and the gruff, manly rasp of his breath. I’ve lost count of the number of tis I’ve spent sitting on my water closet with my legs spread open and two of my fingers stuffed in my clit, my eyes closed and my head thrown back in ecstasy as I replayed those monts in the kitchen when our lips t. Even now, walking through the air-conditioned lobby of his office building, heat pools up in between my legs as I think about how close we ca to kissing.
, Lia, and Master Hemsworth.
Kissing.
Could you believe it? It’ll be a dream co true. It’ll an progress.
The elevator arrives and I step inside amidst tall, solid trunks of black suits. I stifle a laugh as I look down at my appearance, shaking my head at how out of place I must seem. I stick out like blue butter icing, surrounded by businessn my father’s age. I face the wall to conceal my stuff nipples, rembering too late that I’m wearing a see-through blouse — the n are drawn like a bear to honey, their eyes roving over hungrily. Two of them, hot, mighty, draw closer to till I’m pressed into a corner of the elevator, my breath accelerated with nerves. Fear.
I need my big daddy.
I won’t even try to deny it. I’m a flirt. Always enjoyed keeping n on their toes. No amount of interest rattles . But only with stupid boys my age who I can easily throw off when they start craving more. I always warn them on ti anyway, so they wouldn’t bla when they eventually fall for .
I’ve never wanted more from them, or anyone.
I’ve only wanted more from one person only.
Tristan Hemsworth.
These n are older, bulky, and have a world of experience in their deeply-set, hard eyes. They’ve been with countless won of all ages and sizes, and are accustod to getting what they want. My father has had guests like this over for brief business etings or dinners sotis. But I’m always careful not to be left alone with them. Not when they make their interest so blatantly obvious when no one is looking. It creeps out.
I’ve got their full attention now, and it’s unsettling. Four of them, I see in the mirrored wall. Their lips are curled in devious smirks. One of them starts unbuckling his belt, letting out a low maniacal chuckle — another about to hit the ergency stop button on the tal panel —
The doors suddenly roll open. And just in ti too.
Tristan appears.
I exhale, slumping against the wall in relief. He steps forward, and with nothing more than a glare directed towards the leeching n, grabs my elbow and starts dragging out of the elevator. Away from them, and directly into his big bear embrace.
I let out a happy sigh, my legs almost giving out at the giddy excitent of being held by Tristan.
My knight-in-shining armour. A ssiah sent from above.
I ride my arms up, hooking them around his neck and inhale the wholeso, beautiful scent of musk and man from his well-presser suit, nearly moaning when he wraps up tight, one arm around my shoulders, one low around the small of my back. When I look back up, I see that he’s still giving the n at the elevator a death glare, baring his teeth at them in a possessively hot way that turns on as much as it gives hope. If he’s possessive over , there’s no way he’ll let be on the sugar babies website, right?
Right?
He’ll have no choice but to put an end to all these and finally claim .
The elevator doors draw to a close, taking away the sea of dangerous n.
“You just have to give the word, Lia. These n, I caught their faces on cara. I have their details. They’ll be fired with just a snap of a finger. Anything you like. And it won’t end there, they won’t have it rosy in this city anymore. They’ll be fucked, every last one of them,” he lets out a curse. “I was watching the cara feed. I was worried that the cara wouldn’t get here on ti, my sweet girl...”
“But it did, big daddy. Now I’m in your arms...safe,” I whisper into his neck, snuggling into his neck. “Thank you, Big Daddy. You ca through.”
Between our tightly pressed bodies, Tristan becos fully erect. He cussed, swallowing hard, one of his large hands getting lost in the pink ruffles of my skirt. “You naughty, naughty girl. What is this damn outfit you’re wearing? Throw in the pigtails and you look like a seven-year-old school girl.”
“Well, I am a school-girl. I’m your school-girl.”
“Perhaps, I should also treat you as one. Bad girls get punished, and you have been a bad girl. A very, very, bad, bad girl, Lia,” he rasps, dragging his hand up the back of my skirt slowly and kneading my right cheek — just one glorious ti — before he pulls his hand away, disentangling from , letting out a shaking breathing. “Fuck this, Lia. Enough of these mind gas.”
Missing his hands, I revert back to my usual flirtatious routine, placing a hand on my hip and biting my bottom lip hard. “How is it my fault? You’re the one who wanted to see .”
Tristan’s eyes drops to my breasts and heats up. “Yeah. I must have been drunk or sothing,” he mutters thickly, taking by the wrist now. “You’ll do as I say, Lia. Avoid any eye contact with any of the n in the supplent departnt, do you understand?”
“But — ”
“No buts. Co on.”
Smirking, I let him drag out of the deserted marble desert floor and down a spacious hallway with navy-blue walls. At the end of it, there’s a reception desk, a fleetingly, brightly-lit office beyond, packed full of analysts and traders, all paying keen attention to their computers. “Why can’t I make eye contact?”
I yelp when he suddenly whirls around, pressing up against the wall and pinning down with a ferocious, lust-filled gaze. “Because you look like you desperately want to be fucked. Any man you look at automatically takes it as an invitation that you’re into him.”
His big chest and stomach are squashing , but I relish it. “Why should I care? That’s clearly their problem, not mine.”
“Don’t. Look. At. A. Single. One. Of. Them, Lia.” His hand circles my throat, tightening ever so slightly. “I’m in a very bad mood. If one of those musty dickheads show any interest in you, I won’t hesitate to have them fired imdiately. I don’t care. If I have to fire every man that looks at you stupidly, I will.”
“Oh, Big Daddy,” I whine, trailing a finger down his chest. “If you want all to yourself, you can just say it. Stop beating around the bush.”
He’s right on the verge of agreeing with my statent. I can feel it. But at the last second he blows out an unsteady breath and continues leading down the office. You don’t expect to actually listen to him now, do you? I thrive on setting Tristan off, and so I disobey him and make contact with so inconsequential dimwit. Luckily , he doesn’t notice, itching for privacy. I want nothing but to be alone with him to blow my chance too, so I keep my down on the black carpet until we’re safely enclosed in his office.
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