Sugar Daddy (Sugar Bowl #1)

by Sawyer Bennett

  She turned that beautiful face my way, looking at me over her shoulder. Her face was filled with anger and disappointment. She looked at me only a moment before she walked out and slammed the door behind her.

  I spent the morning watching TV. I checked my watch about a thousand times. I made a sandwich for lunch and watched two football games. I made another sandwich for dinner, and still Sela hadn’t returned.

  I then decided to get some work done and locked myself away in my office. It was almost eight o’clock when I heard the condo door open and close.

  Heard her tennis shoes squeaking on the floor as she walked down the hallway to our bedroom.

  I considered following her, testing the waters to see where her head was at. But I didn’t. I worked another two hours, and when I finally decided to go to bed, I found her sleeping on her side of the mattress, breathing deeply. I got undressed, brushed my teeth, and slid in to bed, wanting to pull her into my arms. I debated about it, wondering if it would wake her up. I even considered putting my hand between her legs and forcing her to give me something.

  Instead, I just turned over on my side and watched my bedside clock tick away the time. It was well after midnight before I finally fell asleep.

  When I woke up the next morning with my alarm buzzing at 6:30 a.m., I found Sela’s body wrapped around me. We both lay in the center of the bed, somehow coming together in our sleep. I held her for a bit, relishing this warm woman who was quickly becoming my entire world, and wondering what I could do to fix things between us.

  Apparently it didn’t take much, because Sela stirred in my arms and burrowed her face into my neck.

  “I’m sorry about yesterday,” she said, her voice husky with sleep.

  “Shh,” I said in response, really not needing the apology. I just wanted things to be okay. I just wanted us talking again, and this was a damn good start.

  Sela then surprised me by dropping her hand to my stomach, pushing downward until she found my soft cock. The minute her fingers grasped it, it started thickening and I arched my hips.

  In the gloomy dawn hours, Sela straddled my hips, guided me inside her, and rode me to perfect completion. She was silent as she did so, her hands on my chest and her gaze solemn as she bounced up and down on my dick. The only way I knew it felt good to her was just moments before I came, her nails scored my chest and her head tipped back as she groaned out an unbelievably hard orgasm that left her shaking, and her pussy clamped down hard on me. I followed her immediately, punching my hips up and pulling her down for a long kiss.

  I thought things might be okay. I got out of bed and showered. Her eyes followed me around the room as I got dressed, her cheeks flushed pink from that amazing fucking we just did and appreciation of my body. I loved her eyes on me so much.

  Yeah…I thought it would be fine. Except when I went to kiss her goodbye, I asked her if she was interested in decorating the condo tonight when I got home. I thought that might get a renewed smile out of her. She merely shrugged her shoulders and said, “Maybe. Let’s see how I feel.”

  And that made me realize things weren’t good at all.

  Chapter 25

  Sela

  It took no more than two minutes before I heard Beck leave the condo before I was up out of bed and getting my day started. I took a quick shower. I didn’t bother with makeup but gave my teeth a good brushing before twisting and clipping my wet hair to the back of my head.

  In ten minutes, I was dressed and had my first cup of tea. I even took the time to make toast with butter and jam and eat it.

  Then I walked into our bathroom, grabbed my makeup bag, and pulled out the key to Beck’s office.

  I slid it in the lock and it turned as easily as cutting through butter with a warm knife. I opened the door and took stock of my feelings. Not an ounce of guilt possessed me.

  Nothing but raw determination.

  While I might have hesitated before in making this move, I did so back when my feelings for Beck were solid. But after Saturday night, when I saw just how easy Beck was letting JT back into his life, and with Beck just yesterday defending that lecherous bastard to me, I knew I couldn’t let those feelings interfere anymore.

  Yes, there are feelings. Deep, abiding, overwhelming feelings I have for Beck. But they are now tempered with bitter hatred that resurfaced toward JT Saturday night. It might not have been so bad just suffering JT’s slights and innuendos. I probably could have handled that.

  But I felt something grow cold inside of me when I watched Beck and JT hugging it out all bro style outside the restaurant. I saw renewed respect in Beck’s eyes, and happiness to be in JT’s presence. I watched all through dinner as they told war stories and shared memories of growing up together, and it filled me with such bitterness I had to choke down my meal.

  While I loved Beck inside me this morning, I rode him with a slight hardening of my heart, instead focusing on just the bodily pleasures we could bestow on each other. I had Beck and I wasn’t prepared to give him up, but I wasn’t prepared to give up myself either.

  And to be true to myself, I have accepted that I’m going to have to make JT suffer for what he did. I’m going to obliterate him from this earth, and not only will that avenge the atrocities he dealt me, it will free Beck from that monster as well. I consider this a mission of liberation for us both, and if there’s something in this office that can help me, I’m going to utilize it.

  Infiltrate.

  Murder.

  Repeat.

  Very simple.

  I look around and take in Beck’s office. It’s sparse and utilitarian, holding nothing but a desk with a computer and two monitors, as well as a four-drawer filing cabinet in the corner. I don’t give the computer another glance, knowing that I’ll never be able to break into it past Beck’s password. He’s too savvy to ever be that stupid.

  Instead I walk around the desk, sit in the mesh Herman Miller chair and pull open the first drawer on the right. It contains hanging file folders and I pull them all out, roughly ten, stuffed full of papers. I open the top one and see bank statements with reconciliations stapled to the front. Flipping through, it looks like all of Beck’s personal banking accounts. Two checking and three money markets. The balances within are hefty but that doesn’t impress me. I know Beck’s rich.

  The next folder holds a thick document entitled “The Beckett W. North, Jr., Trust and Pour-Over Will.” I scan it briefly and it essentially leaves everything to Caroline, including his ownership of Townsend-North Holdings, with it going to Ally if Caroline dies first. The next folder contains a separate trust for Ally that he set up and apparently contributes a percentage of his profits to monthly.

  The next folder holds paperwork for a 529 plan for Ally. Her college is completely funded.

  I set that aside and open the next folder, finding my original Sugar agreement that I signed with Beck along with receipts for the monies he paid me and to Golden Gate for my tuition. Paid in full is scrawled in blue ink on the agreement

  Looks like I’m a paid Sugar Baby after all, I think bitterly.

  I set that folder aside and flip through the others. His lease agreement for the Audi; the closing documents for the condo he bought two years ago; another folder with a mutual fund portfolio. All stuff that’s completely uninteresting to me and doesn’t tell me a damn thing about Jonathon Townsend.

  I complete my perusal, growing more frustrated by the second. Still, I take the time to carefully put them back in the drawer as best I can remember they were arranged.

  My eyes then drift to the four-drawer filing cabinet.

  I push out of the chair and walk up to it, opening the top drawer. I’m immediately rewarded with a folder labeled townsend-north holdings. I pull it out and remove a thick document entitled “Partnership Agreement.” On the first page, I see introductory language regarding the formation of a partnership between Jonathon Townsend and Beckett North, with both of their home addresses following right behind.


  Bingo.

  I at least have one solid piece of information.

  I know where JT lives now.

  Don’t think me a fool. I’ve tried desperately to find his home address, but that’s some supersecret shit that the wealthy and famous alike can hide to protect their anonymity. I’m sure I could have found it before now with the help of a private investigator, but I didn’t have the funds for that. This little tidbit saves me the trouble of following him home from work one night, which I was more than willing to do.

  I scramble back to Beck’s desk, open the top middle drawer, and find a square pad of yellow paper. I pull it out with a pen and scribble down the address before tucking it into my back pocket. I flip through the pages of the agreement and don’t see anything that will help me further, so I tuck it back into the folder.

  I then put my fingers on the next one behind it, but pause when I see the writing on the tab: Schaefer—criminal investigation.

  Confused beyond measure, I reach for the folder, intent on discovering what secrets Beck is hiding. My fingers grasp onto a thick sheaf of papers inside, and just as I pull them out, a shadow falls across me.

  I turn my face slowly toward the door, and see Beck standing there, his eyes wide and condemning.

  “What in the fuck are you doing?” he asks slowly through gritted teeth as he walks into the office, his face contorting with rage.

  I’m so stunned to see him there I can’t even force out an explanation. He stalks up to me, pulls the folder from my hand, and throws it sideways across the room, where it smacks against the wall of windows and the papers come loose, spilling to the floor.

  “Beck,” I manage to croak out, holding my arms out in front of me defensively.

  His hand shoots out, grabs me above my elbow. He leans his face in and snarls, “You fucking broke into my office?”

  He’s furious, and tiny bits of spittle hit my cheek. I reach my free hand up to wipe it away but he’s dragging me out of the office, so I just flail for balance.

  “Jesus Christ,” he snarls as he pulls me into the hallway. “Who the fuck are you? What’s your goddamn game, Sela?”

  “Beck,” I implore as he manhandles me into the living room. “Just wait…”

  “I fucking trusted you,” he yells in his rampage, refusing to look at me. “I brought you into my home, into my bed…and you’ve been doing nothing but lying to me, sneaking behind my back. Are you a fucking spy for another company? What’s the game, Sela?”

  His fingers are digging into my arm so hard my bone aches. My free hand comes up and tries to peel his fingers back to give me respite. He’s holding me so tightly, though, I can’t make any headway. I dig down the heels of my tennis shoes and they catch on the hardwood floor, except Beck is pulling me so hard I go flying face forward and fall to my knees. Beck pauses…gives me a moment to stand up, and the minute I’m upright, he starts pulling me forward again.

  “I want you out of my fucking condo,” he snarls, and I see he’s heading for the front door.

  I redouble my efforts trying to dig my heels in again, but Beck doesn’t even pause. He jerks on my arm, causing me to stumble, and reaches for the doorknob.

  “Beck, no…wait,” I plead with him. “Please give me a chance to explain.”

  “What’s to explain?” he asks with a bitter laugh as he releases his hold and spins on me. “You know…that day you lied to me about taking my car. I knew something was up then. My gut told me there was something you were hiding.”

  “It’s not what you think,” I say as I shake my head in denial at him.

  “Broke into my office, and looking for shit on me,” he spits out at me with disgust.

  “No…I swear to you,” I say in a half sob, and finally blurt out, “It’s about JT.”

  Beck throws his head back and gives a sarcastic, bitter bark of a laugh. His eyes shine with malice as he grabs my purse off the foyer table and shoves it right into my chest. My hands come up automatically to catch it as he releases, and I hug it to me. “Don’t even go there, Sela. You’ve had a hard-on for him for some reason, but I’ve known him forever. I’ve known you for a few weeks. What you and I have can never compare to the bond I have with him. Who the fuck do you think I’m going to believe?”

  “I swear to God, Beck…this is about JT,” I say as tears now spring to my eyes, fill them to the brim, and with just one slight blink of my lids, go spilling over.

  “Save it,” he growls, and his hand shoots back out to latch on to my upper arm now. He gives me a hard jerk, and I go stumbling forward again. He grabs the doorknob, wrenches it open, and starts pushing me through. “I want you out of here now. I’ll pack your shit up and have it delivered to your apartment, but you get the fuck out of my home and out of my life right this very minute and don’t look backward.”

  “Beck,” I wail, dropping my purse on the foyer floor as I reach out to him, desperately trying to get him to listen to me. “I swear I’m not trying to hurt you.”

  His blue eyes fill with darkness and his eyes narrow at me with something I would put akin to hatred. His hand shoots out and he catches me around the front of my neck, pulling me in slowly and up onto my tiptoes until he’s almost nose to nose with me. For the first time since he caught me in his office, his tone is calm but still rippling with rage and menace. “You’re no better than all the other girls, Sela. All looking to get ahead at some man’s expense. What were you doing? Searching my financials? Hoping to blackmail me with something? Looking to steal from me?”

  With each question he asks, his grip on my throat tightens but not enough to cut off my air. Only enough to keep my attention and so I don’t forget he’s in control of this situation right now. With each question, his fury seems to increase, as if my inability to answer is an admission to each accusation.

  He pulls me in a fraction of an inch closer and whispers, “I don’t care what the reason. I just want you fucking gone.”

  Beck pushes me through the door and I have no choice but to walk backward from the force of his grip on me. My hands fly out, grab on to each side of the doorjamb, and dig in hard.

  “Let go, Sela,” he snarls at me, releasing his hand on my throat and capturing both my wrists tightly with his hands. He peels them loose.

  “No, wait,” I cry out, trying to launch myself back into the doorway.

  “Get the fuck out,” he bellows at me with so much rage it feels like a sonic boom reverberating in my ears.

  Beck pushes me hard, lets go of my wrists, and I stumble backward, falling to my butt with a jarring impact. He kicks at my purse, sending it hurtling through the door where the contents spill out all over the floor. That doesn’t stop me though. I immediately lurch forward to my hands and knees, crawling toward Beck standing in the door.

  “Please listen to me, Beck,” I implore, my eyes begging him for just a few moments of his mercy.

  He glares down at me, complete and utter disgust holding every inch of his beautiful face hostage. I crawl faster as he starts to shut the door, reaching one hand out in a pitiful attempt for a single, fucking bit of leniency from this man. He looks down at me like he wants to spit on me.

  “Beck,” I say with a sob.

  The door is halfway closed and I take a desperate look at his face, knowing that it’s the last time I’ll ever see it again. I’ll never know pleasure and joy like he’s given me, and although I know I’ve betrayed him and I can’t blame him for his actions right now, I throw all caution to the wind and I bare my soul to him. “JT…he raped me.”

  The door comes to an immediate halt and Beck’s eyes go round with surprise. His mouth slackens and he pales for a moment as he looks down at me, his head tilted in confusion. I think perhaps he may even reach a hand out toward me…help me to my feet…pull me into his embrace and tell me it’s all going to be okay.

  I even go so far as to reach my hand upward to him.

  Instead, his eyes go cold, his lips flatten out, and he shake
s his head at me in disgust. “Yet another lie, Sela.”

  Then he slams the door in my face.

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  Author’s Note

  I hope you enjoyed the sexy, thrilling ride of Sugar Daddy. This novel is different from anything I’ve written before. Find out what happens between Beck and Sela in Sugar Rush and the conclusion to their story, Sugar Free, both coming in 2016.

  To Sue Grimshaw and Gina Wachtel. For believing in me.

  To Lisa, Darlene, Janett, Karen, and Beth. Best beta readers in the whole damn world. I couldn’t do this without you.

  BY SAWYER BENNETT

  Sugar Bowl Series

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