Hot Sugar

by Cassandra Dee

  And slowly, the door swings open to reveal Nicole, eyes worried, her figure barely visible.

  Because I’ve been sitting in the dark in my room. It’s light out, but the shades are drawn, and I haven’t left this space for a while now. Maybe two days. Three days. Maybe more, I don’t know, I lost count.

  “Hi,” comes my tired greeting. “How are you?”

  Nicole slips inside like a wraith, taking a seat on the bed next to me.

  “I’m okay,” she says softly. “But how are you?”

  My eyes look off into the distance at nothing.

  “Good,” is my barely audible reply. “Good.”

  Nicole shoots me a long look before taking my hand.

  “You and I both know that’s not true,” she says softly. “You’re not okay Carrie. You’ve been in this room for a week now.”

  Oh my god.

  Has it really been a week? A week locked in this darkness, without seeing a soul? A week where I can’t get out of bed, where even the energy to roll over seems too much?

  I smile wanly at her, running a hand over my curls. They’re tangled and sticky. I must have forgotten to shower.

  “Sorry,” I say. “I’m gonna come out. I promise. Everything okay out there?”

  But Nicole shakes her head.

  “Carrie,” she says softly. “You have to snap out of this. This isn’t healthy. I’m worried. For you. For me. But especially for you.”

  My hand grips hers tighter, fingers cold.

  “Thanks Nicole,” are my toneless words. “But I’m gonna be okay. Just let me take a shower and get cleaned up. I’ll be right out.”

  But both she and I know that’s a lie.

  Because I’m not going anywhere.

  I’m going to sit here on my bed, soul crushed, heart broken until the end of time.

  I’ll never be the same.

  They’ll carry me out feet first, that’s where this is heading.

  And Nicole squeezes my hand worriedly again.

  “Carrie,” she says urgently. “It’s not that bad. I promise it’s not that bad.”

  Slowly, my head turns to look at her, and I see my sister for the first time during this conversation. I see the big blue eyes, filled with worry. I see the crease between her eyebrows, how her chin trembles.

  So summoning some strength, I reach a hand out to caress her smooth cheek.

  “Oh Nicole,” I say. “This isn’t just a break-up. It’s so much more than that.”

  My little sister’s silent for a moment. But then she takes a big breath and speaks.

  “Carrie,” she says tentatively. “I always knew what you were doing. I knew you signed up on the site the day you did it. I knew that you had money because you were sleeping with someone. I didn’t know it was Mason at first, but I figured it out.”

  My head snaps towards her.

  “How did you know?” is my low voice. “How did you figure it out?”

  Nicole looks down first, but then meets my gaze straight on.

  “I logged on as you,” she says simply. “We were sharing a laptop, and I know your password. I’ve known it for ages,” she admits. “So I logged on as you and saw what you were doing. But it’s okay,” she adds quickly. “You were doing it for us.”

  The realization strikes me to the heart. So all this time, my baby sister’s known about my whorish ways? She knows that I’ve been slutting myself out for money? Selling my body so that we’d have a place to stay?

  And like she can read my mind, Nicole nods.

  “Yes, I knew. But I don’t see it that way. I don’t see it like you were doing anything illegal or wrong or bad. I saw it as my big, brave older sister doing what she needed to do so that we could survive. You’ve done so much Carrie,” she says with a lump in her throat. “I’ve never told you thank you.”

  Tears begin to form in my eyes. Because I didn’t want my sister exposed to this. There’s an innocence and naiveté to Nicole that needs to be preserved, and I didn’t want her to be dragged into this. But the mess is too big now. Santa doesn’t exist, and the truth is out of the closet.

  “I’m sorry,” I say in a low voice. “I suspected you knew, but I didn’t know how to talk to you about it. Like an ostrich with its head in the sand you know?” I say, my voice trembling. “I sort of knew, but didn’t want to believe.”

  And Nicole takes a deep breath before looking at me squarely.

  “You don’t have to do it anymore,” she says in a steady voice. “Not for me. Not for us. And not for you, either.”

  I look at her blankly.

  “What do you mean?”

  My sister takes another deep breath.

  “I’m old enough Carrie. I’m almost sixteen now. I can take care of myself, you don’t have to worry.”

  My head shakes slowly with disbelief.

  “That’s it sweetheart,” are my soft words. “You’re not even sixteen. You’re not old enough. You don’t know.”

  But Nicole shakes her head resolutely.

  “I am,” she says in a firm tone. And then she fixes me with a wavery yet stern glare. “When you were sixteen Carrie, you already had two jobs. You were already going to school, working part-time afterwards, and then getting up early to put in a shift at the bakery before classes. You did all that so that I could be in Girl Scouts, so that I could have a uniform like everyone else. You did all that because Mom and Dad didn’t have any money, and we needed cash. So I can do it too,” she finishes in a rush. “I can do it too.”

  But I shake my head.

  “No. You’re my baby, and I don’t want you to go through that like I did. Do you know how tired I was every night? How I could barely keep my eyes open during class? I don’t want that for you. You’re college bound, and you need to study.”

  But Nicole shakes her head.

  “I already got a job,” she says softly. “It doesn’t pay that much, but they said I can study while I’m working.”

  My head shakes.

  “What job is that?”

  In my experience, an employer pays for your time and wants your full attention. Like Mason.

  “At the library,” Nicole says firmly. “I’m going to work the circulation desk. But when no one needs help, they said I could study.”

  And cocking my head, I think. That doesn’t sound so bad. It’s safe for sure, and the library is generally quiet and peaceful. Nicole should be able to get a lot done.

  So I nod.

  “Okay,” I say slowly. “Okay, but let’s see how it goes first. Just take a few shifts a week, and then let’s re-consider.”

  She nods happily.

  “I’m glad you approve,” are her delighted words. But then the smile falls from her face. “But Carrie, I didn’t want to talk about me. I wanted to talk about you, and all this,” she says, waving her hand in a vague circle.

  “All what?” are my words, suddenly flat.

  Nicole gulps.

  “You know, all this,” she replies helplessly, still gesturing. “This apartment. This life we live. And Mason.”

  Her words practically die on the word Mason. Like she’s afraid to say the name, afraid to open Pandora’s box, releasing the furies.

  But instead, there’s just silence. Dead air.

  “What about it?” are my tuneless words.

  Nicole tries again, eyes getting desperate.

  “You don’t have to do this anymore,” she says in a brave voice. “I have a job. You can get another job. Don’t put yourself through this anymore.”

  But Nicole has it all wrong.

  “Are you worried about the money?” I say carefully. “Are you worried that we’ll be out on the street?”

  And eyes swirling with emotion, my sister nods.

  “We’ll find a way, I promise,” she says softly. “I’ve researched hostels, even apartments on Staten Island. If we scrimp and save, we can make it work. It won’t be anything like this,” she says, gesturing to the king bed and floor-leng
th mirror, “But I’m okay with that. I just don’t want you to be like this,” she adds in a small voice.

  And suddenly, I burst into laughter. Maniacal, crazy-woman laughter that makes my sister sit up with a jerk.

  “What?” she asks. “What’s going on?”

  But again, Nicole’s got it all wrong.

  “I don’t care about our surroundings. I don’t care about this apartment or the clothes or the jewelry. You know that, missy,” I say with a sad smile.

  Nicole nods.

  “Yes, but what else could it be? All that stuff with Jim and Rhonda, and what they said about Mason,” she starts in a quavery voice. “He’s going to kick us out.”

  I nod slowly.

  “Yes, but that’s not what has me down.”

  My sister’s stumped.

  “But then what it is? I thought that’s why you were on the sugar baby site,” her voice breaks a little. “Money for … well, you know,” she flushes, embarrassed.

  I smile gently at her.

  “It started that way, sure,” are my soft words. “But it grew into something more. I’m not sad because we’re leaving this place, or that we have to live on Staten Island. I’m not sad that we’ll be eating cheese sandwiches and stale white bread. I’m sad because I fell in love with Mason,” are my soft words. “I fell in love with my sugar daddy, and that’s the ultimate no-no.”

  Nicole’s stunned, at a loss for words.

  “Really?” she asks in a hushed voice. “So you love him?”

  And slowly, my head nods.

  “Really, really,” I say in a sad voice. “I fell in love, and that’s not what you do in this line of business. I really messed up Nicole. So that’s why I’ve been in this room for a week now,” are my sad words. “That’s why I’ve been locked up, unable to move.”

  Nicole takes my hand, squeezing it gently.

  “It’s not so bad,” my sister says softly. “There are worse things than falling in love.”

  I choke back a sob.

  “Not when he doesn’t love you back,” are my unhappy words. “Not when –“

  But suddenly there’s a growl at the door.

  I look up and oh god, but Mason’s there, massive form looming, casting shadow upon shadow.

  How long has he been standing there?

  How long has he been watching us?

  Did he hear what I said?

  Did he hear my admission?

  Suddenly, my cheeks flush bright pink, everything going hot.

  Because I just declared myself. He must have overheard.

  And sensing the electricity in the air, Nicole mumbles and excuses herself.

  “I’ll just be in my room,” she says hurriedly, zipping her hoodie before dashing out of the room. “You know where to find me.”

  And then the door closes.

  Silence, heavy and thick.

  Me and Mason alone in the room together.

  The air pulsing, sizzling with energy.

  Oh god, I must look a mess. My hair hasn’t seen a comb in ages, and my face is a mess of tears. Self-consciously, I raise my hands to my curls, trying to pat them into some sort of shape. Big help that is, the rat’s nest can’t be tamed that fast. Plus, my nightie is dirty and stained after a week straight in bed.

  But the alpha doesn’t see it. Because Mr. Channing drops to his knee by my side, eyes penetrating, voice hoarse.

  “Did you just say that, sweetheart?” he rasps, big hand grasping mine. “Did you say that you love me?”

  My face flushes, and I squirm, hotly embarrassed. But there’s no denying it. Because what’s done is done. He heard everything, every word that came out of my mouth, every confession from the bottom of my heart.

  And what use is it denying it now, anyways? The billionaire’s done with me. He doesn’t care. All he wants is for this to end smoothly, to send me on my way with a minimum of tears and recriminations.

  So I nod, taking a deep breath.

  “I do love you Mason, but it’s okay if you don’t love me back. It wasn’t part of our deal to begin with, and I don’t expect ---“

  But then the billionaire’s mouth slams down on mine, hard, hot and hungry, like a ravenous man who can’t get enough.

  “Mas--?” is my helpless cry. “M--?”

  But he’s not stopping. The alpha’s relentless, tasting and touching, his hands already beginning to wrench the nightie over my head.

  “Mas--?” I pant this time between hungry kisses, unable to believe what’s happening. “Mason?”

  And finally, he stops for a moment, blue eyes seizing mine.

  “I love you, Carrie Newman,” he growls, gaze on fire. “I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.”

  My body’s still with shock. Wha--? How? Why?

  But the billionaire shakes his head again.

  “Ever since the moment I met you,” he repeats. “You were nothing like a regular sugar baby. Those girls are trash, females that you keep in a seedy hotel, feeding them cash. But you were different from the very beginning. Your caring nature, your sweetness.”

  I interrupt, grabbing at his hand.

  “Mason,” I say breathlessly. “What do you mean?”

  And the billionaire throws his head back and laughs then, more of a harsh bark than real humor.

  “From the very beginning,” he says slowly. “I wanted to parade you around. I wanted to show you off to my friends, my coworkers, fuck, even my employees. I was proud to have you on my arm and branded as my woman. I wanted people to know that you were mine.”

  I’m speechless, gaping at him. But the dark man seizes my face in those big palms then.

  “I fucking fought your parents for you. I beat Jim to a pulp, and almost did the same to Rhonda,” he says fiercely. “Because you were mine, and they were abusing my property. They treated you like a ragdoll to be thrown around, worth nothing. I couldn’t take it, so I moved you out next to me.”

  That was true. This penthouse was just down the street from Mason’s apartment. But still, there were so many unanswered questions.

  “But what about Jim and Rhonda?” I ask slowly. “My parents have called you a ch- child molester.” The word stutters on my tongue, like poison making me choke.

  But Mr. Channing just laughs again.

  “I don’t give a shit about them. Because you know what? You were never underage, and the world will know the truth soon. You were a sweet thing who entered into a relationship with a much older man, but that’s not illegal.”

  I nod.

  “But what about your company?” is my agonized whisper. “What about the hotel opening in Paris? Didn’t I embarrass you? And why didn’t you call me these last two weeks?”

  My final question is so humiliating, the words squeezed from my throat, eyes beginning to well with tears. But I can’t help it. Because Mason left me dangling, hung from a pole out to dry. Maybe the pain doesn’t sear anymore, but the memory stings like a slap that won’t go away.

  He fixes me with a fierce look.

  “Channing Corp. is fine without me,” he growls. “That was my mistake sweetheart. I thought that the company couldn’t function without me, but it’s not true. I haven’t been doing shit for years now,” he says wryly. “And they’re totally fine.”

  I stare at him.

  “But you go to work every day ….”

  He smiles wryly again, only half his mouth pulling up.

  “Doesn’t mean I’m doing anything while I’m there. But it doesn’t matter,” he growls again. “Channing Corp. is fine. Investors and employees know that I’m not the company, and the company’s not me. We’re separate entities, and I won’t devote my life to it anymore. It’s time for something new.”

  I shake my head, confused.

  “But I thought you were the face of the conglomerate,” are my dazed words. “I thought you were their public persona, your name on the door.”

  He nods sharply.

  “And it’s time for th
at to change. It’s time for all that bullshit to stop. Because you know what? One day I’m gonna die, and I want the corporation to go on without me. My time on Earth is limited, but that doesn’t mean that operations have to grind to a halt.”

  And slowly I nod.

  “Corporations aren’t people,” are my soft words. “So yes, the company can last for years and years, an eternity even.” Then my voice breaks. “But what does that mean for us, Mr. Channing? What does that mean for us?”

  The billionaire swoops down to gather me in his arms again. And for the first time in two weeks I feel protected. My form slumps against that hard chest, relaxing into the aura of strength. Because this is where I belong, with my man, under his guidance.

  “What it means,” he growls in my ear. “Is that you and I should be together. It doesn’t have to be the company or you. It doesn’t have to be business or love. I can have both. And if I can’t,” he says, punctuating the words with a kiss. “Then I choose you.”

  My eyes fly open, alert.

  “What?” I gasp. “What do you mean?”

  But Mason isn’t fazed, those broad shoulders shrugging.

  “All it means is that I choose you,” he says simply. “There are some people who can have it all, and I’m one of those guys,” he growls, pressing another kiss to my forehead. “But in the event that I can’t, then I want you.”

  I pull back a little, eyes stunned.

  “You mean … you’re giving up the CEO position? Everything you worked for?” My mouth gapes. This is beyond my wildest dreams, my craziest fantasies.

  Mason shrugs again before pulling me back against that hard warmth. And oh god, even during this heartfelt conversation, I feel a stiffness against my bottom. His cock, huge and hung, tempting me, making my pussy moisten as we reveal our deepest desires.

  But Mason is a businessman always, relentless and dominating.

  “That’s right, sweetheart. If I have to give up the CEO title, then I will. I’ve been in the top spot for a long time, sweetheart. It was getting boring anyways.”

  I grab at his chest.

  “But I don’t want you to,” are my choked words. “Not for me.”

  And the billionaire turns to me then, clasping my face between his hands before pressing a soft kiss to my lips.

  “Not for you,” he repeats, making my heart thud hard for a moment. “But for us. I want you, Carrie Newman. You, through and through, nothing held back, all the way.”