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Craving Sugar

Page 1

by Elena M. Reyes




  Table of Contents

  EPILOGUE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  By: Elena M. Reyes

  Summary:

  Earn extra cash by becoming a high-class companion.

  Travel, eat, and have your every expense taken care of.

  The catch: I’ll be someone’s sugar baby for a year. Paid to be a private escort.

  Beau Carter is young, beautiful, and with a bright future ahead of her. Her dreams of becoming the first woman in her family to graduate from college are just within her grasp, when the financial aid runs out. Up to her eyeballs in debt, she works night and day to make ends meet, but even that can only last for so long.

  Hendrix Parker lost it all four years ago. Angry at the world, he’s become an asshole—a bitter shell of the man his family once loved. A recluse, he is now forced to leave his sanctuary in the Florida Keys and become an active member of the real estate developer community he now dominates.

  Problem is he’s all alone and needs a buffer. Someone to draw attention away from him.

  “I bought you to be my whore.”

  Craving Sugar written by Elena M. Reyes

  Copyright 2017© Elena M. Reyes

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This work is copyrighted. All rights are reserved. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without prior written permission of the author.

  Cover image licensed by: @Aliaksei Volat

  Cover design by: Coquette Graphics

  Editor:

  Marti Lynch

  Publication Date: October 27th 2017

  Genre: FICTION/Romance/Erotica

  Copyright © 2017 Elena M. Reyes

  All rights reserved.

  Contents

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  EPILOGUE

  My heart bleeds at your hands.

  For you.

  Because I chose to love a man incapable of letting go of a past that’s slowly taking away his humanity. His need for basic human comfort and emotions.

  You’ve broken a part of me and yet, I still chose you.

  To forgive.

  To love.

  I had no choice, but to be yours.

  ONE

  Hendrix

  “I’m not hiring a whore,” I all but snarled, pissed at the idiot in front of me. I was tired and stressed; lacked the basic urge to be an understanding individual,

  much less give the asshole in front of me the benefit of doubt.

  Jax, my closest friend since college, had caught me off guard—something that never happened these days.

  Nothing surprised me anymore, not since that night four years ago. The night my entire world stopped.

  Fuck. Focus on the here and now.

  “Why?” he asked, bringing me away from that dark path filled with memories—moments frozen in time that never failed to haunt me. “Answer me.”

  The jerk sounded amused—a pit bull with a bone. He wasn’t going to let it go.

  Rubbing a hand down my face, I bit back a tired groan. “No.”

  Of all the moronic crap he could have spewed, I had not been expecting this; for me to hire someone to play the role of my girlfriend for the next few months.

  “Think about it, Hendrix. It’s legal, safe...” he ticked each reason off with his fingers “...and, she must sign an NDA to enter into this kind of an agreement. No one will know.”

  Slamming back the shot of whiskey in my glass, I leveled him with a glare. “Get the fuck out.”

  “Speak up, man. Your staff went home.” Holding his now-empty tumbler out in front of him, he twirled the glass atop my desk. “There’s no one here to judge you. That prim and proper act you put on can be turned off.”

  “Is all this a joke to you?” I hissed out from between clenched teeth. “Am I your amusement for the evening?”

  “Come off it, Parker. I came here to see the asshole I know, my friend, not this...” he waved his hand absentmindedly in my direction. “To be honest, I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

  “Then leave.”

  “No. Enough with the hiding. Emptiness—”

  I slammed my hand down; the cup of pens close to me tipped over from the impact. “Don’t go there, Jax. Just get up and walk out. Quit pushing.”

  “Jesus, man, what the hell is holding you back? A memory? Ghost?”

  “Enough.”

  “Dammit, Hendrix.” He pushed his chair back and stood to pace the length of my office. Ran a hand roughly through his blonde hair in agitation. “This...” he pointed a finger between us “... is an intervention. You’re young, successful, rich—own the real estate game in South Florida. Known as an asshole, a shark in the business arena, and that’s gained you quite a desired reputation.” Stopping by the window on the far right, Jax turned and glared. “You have that whole tall, dark, and handsome shit going on with your over six-foot-two stature and brooding charm. People respect you, but fuck, man, that’s not enough when you’ve forgotten what it’s like to live.”

  “I’m content enough.”

  Jax scoffed at my response, his hands placed on the window ledge in front of him. “Content is the equivalent of blah. My friend, you need to rediscover the feel of a woman beneath you. The passion. The heat between her legs.”

  Ignoring his spiel, I shut my laptop off and stored it. “Still a no on hiring someone just to appease you.”

  No matter how desperate I was to pull the pressure off my persona.

  No matter how long it’d been since I dipped my dick into something tight...wet.

  Smirk firmly in place, he walked back over and grabbed the bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label on my desk. “Prude much, Parker?” He poured himself another fifth and then sipped slowly, all the while studying me with a cocked brow. “And I never once mentioned hiring a whore.”

  Pushing my glass toward him, I sat back. “What’s the difference? Both are paid to keep you company.”

  “Sugar babies are where it’s at, my friend. A m
utual exchange of benefits.”

  “Answer me this...” Jax nodded “...is money exchanged?”

  “It can be if—”

  Holding a hand up, I halted his pathetic excuse. “And you don’t call that prostitution?”

  “Would you say my girlfriend Crystal is a prostitute?” What would the young woman I met on his boat a few weeks back have to do with anything? “That she’s easy and out to make a quick buck?”

  The hell?

  “She’s...?” I asked, because Jesus. Was this man really sitting here in my office telling me he had a live-in play toy? That he bought her? “What kind of barbaric shit is this? How could you do that? What if word gets out, you idiot.”

  “And if it did, so what? I’m not ashamed of her or us.” His jaw was set tight, and his blue eyes dared me to say anything negative about her. Jax, my easygoing friend, was pissed. Fuming, if the way his hands were clenched was anything to go by.

  “I meant no offense to her, but couldn’t you meet someone through a more traditional route? Someone who cares about more than just the zeros that decorate your bank balance?” This entire conversation was giving me a headache, and I rubbed my temples. I was too tired to continue trying to make sense of this confession.

  “And I’ll counter that question with one of my own.” My mouth opened to protest, but he shook his head before taking another sip of whiskey. His eyes were on mine, unwavering. Looking for something. “Wouldn’t you rather meet someone and know their intentions up front? No games or playing pretend. A mutual and even exchange.”

  Headache now pounding, I pushed back my seat as if I were standing to leave. “Still not interested—”

  Not taking the bait, Jax leaned over the table, a mischievous look in his eye. “Then let me paint a better picture for you, Parker.” He was about to drop some knowledge on me, and I knew it. Should’ve seen it coming for miles. “You have two months to find a date for the few events honoring your pompous ass this fall. And before you say that you’ll decline and hide away on your boat in the Keys, it’s not going to happen. The mayor will not take no for an answer...he and his wife live for these events. To mingle with the rich and arrogant.”

  “Would you stop worrying about my life? I’ll be fine.” Absentmindedly, I ran my fingers across my short beard. My mind still reeled from his admission.

  I’d spoken to Crystal that day and was impressed. In school, and working toward her master’s in psychology, she seemed to have a good head on her shoulders.

  Didn’t hurt one bit that the body attached to the head was downright sexy.

  His laughter pulled my attention away from the memory of the tiny auburn-haired beauty in a bikini. “Admit it, Hendrix, you’re curious.” Tone smug, he had a gloating gleam in his eye.

  “Not in the least.”

  “So, if I informed you that the account was already made and you have some hits, you wouldn’t care? I should just shut everything down?”

  My fists clenched in anger. “Are you serious? Do you have any idea what that could do to my reputation—”

  “Let me stop you right there.” Holding out a hand toward me, Jax dug into his laptop bag on the chair beside him. From inside he pulled out a plain manila folder and pushed it across toward me. “This is all the information you’ll need: contract, company NDA that I signed for you, health screening information, and what you’ll need to submit. Read it. Sleep on it. Check out the website and the girls’ files available for possible match.”

  “I don’t have time for this.”

  “Too late. It’s already done.”

  Beau

  “I’m so screwed,” I whined from my place, head down on the coffee shop’s table. I’d just turned in my finals paper in this semester’s Special Education: Behavioral Intervention course and was fried.

  Well, if you could call individual lesson planning that would benefit two kids the age of nine assigned to me a paper. It was more of a teaching assessment. Different needs—IEPs that were set at two different places of the spectrum.

  It was my dream to work with autistic children, and it all stemmed from my older sister’s daughter being diagnosed with autism. Four years old and a total cutie, Aubrey was the light of the family. Loved her as if she were my own, and I needed to help out.

  To learn what I could and give back to a community full of vibrant children.

  A dream that now seemed millions of miles away.

  Tired. Exhausted. Plain old freaking the hell out, I was drowning.

  From my view point, there was no escaping the dead weight I carried. The responsibilities.

  Other people’s expectations.

  My family’s demands.

  Do what my pregnant, out-of-high-school sister couldn’t: earn a degree.

  “Talk to Victor, Beau.” My friend Ruby placed a hand on my shoulder. It was meant to be a comforting gesture, but now, it made things worse. I didn’t want to be pitied. “I’m sure he could give you a few extra shifts here or there at Carmencita’s.”

  “With school being out and everyone heading home, the small bar’s hours will slow. I’ll be lucky to get twenty-eight hours max waiting tables. I’m going to need another job, Ruby. Something with a more permanent schedule.”

  “Shit. That’s true.” She pursed her lips and tapped the puckered flesh with the tip of her manicured finger. “Well, you could take mine this weekend and if all goes well, next too. I sort of...kind of...have plans and told Victor you would cover for me.”

  No sense in telling her that I was not her maid; the girl was impossible when she heard the word no. So, I chose which battles were worth picking, and this was not one of them.

  My forehead left the table, and I arched a brow. “Who’s the lucky asshole this week?” Loved Rubes to pieces, but the girl was truly working her way through this university’s male student body.

  “Stop being a prude, chick. Max and I—”

  “Max?” Now this had my total attention. Sitting back, I appraised her with a calculating stare.

  “Stop it.” She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder.

  Blush: check.

  Wide smile: check.

  Twinkle in her blue eyes: holy hell, check.

  “Are we talking about basketball Max? Dated-him-for-three-months-a-year-ago Max?”

  “Yes,” she hissed out, nose turned up in the air. “He wants us to clear the air, and I said yes. Will you cover for me?”

  Shrugging, I sighed. “For your in-love butt, why not. I’m sure I could schedule sleep in once I’m dead.”

  “That’s the spirit!” Ruby clapped her hands, and a group of girls beside our table looked over. Two seemed annoyed, while the third looked at me with surprise. Her dark eyes stayed on mine while she twirled a piece of burgundy hair, a contemplative look on her face.

  I’d seen them around campus a time or two. A tight-knit group that dressed to the nines and only socialized with each other. You’d never see them at bars near our school or parties thrown by the different fraternities.

  “...anyways, it’ll come in handy. I know you’re freaking out with next semester’s tuition looming over your head. That must be so hard. I don’t know if I could deal with all that pressure.”

  Taking my eyes off the other group’s table, I looked back at Ruby. “I don’t want to think about that.”

  “Still think you should just tell your parents what’s going on. They’ll help, Beau. Stop being so prideful.”

  “Not pride, Ruby. Trust me, they can’t help.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared me down. “Why not?”

  “Because Aubrey’s dad is a douchebag, and my sister needs help.” Ruby’s mouth opened, but before she could say a word I continued. “Dad pays for her medical care, and before you say why not apply for Medicaid, they already denied her. The sperm donor’s family is well-off. Though, one wouldn’t guess it since what he pays in child support is a joke. Between that, and my sister’s earnings, she’s
over the threshold by ten bucks at best. They won’t, or can’t, help.”

  “Jesus.” Finally, it was dawning on her just how against the wall I was. Even working a full-time job didn’t cover me.

  “Yup.” I’d have to drop off for a semester or two until I could save up the funds needed. That, or rob a bank.

  “Then get a bank loan.”

  “That’s my next step. Maybe I’ll be lucky enough and get approved for a personal one.” Optimism wasn’t my strongest point at the moment, and she grimaced. “Just need enough to get the ball rolling for next semester, and I’ll keep working like crazy. I hate amounting all this debt, but I have no choice.”

  “Talk to your parents, chick. Your dad’s raise is drowning you, and maybe they can help.” Taking a sip from her latte, she paused. Mulled things over in her head. “Couldn’t they co-sign a loan with you? Of course, you’d be responsible for paying it back, but having them on it would help you get the approval needed.”

  Her pleading almost made me divulge the truth. It was more than his raise holding me back. The lawyer getting my sister out of her mess caused this domino effect. Gloria loved the asshole donor, and I was getting burned because she refused to ask for more.

  My ex-brother in law, Xavier, had money. Or more importantly, his father did. Owned a few gas stations up north and in Miami. No one in that family was hurting financially, and yet, my niece received two hundred and fifty dollars every two weeks.

  All because they had him listed as unemployed while his “dad” footed the bill. Bullshit.

  “Fuck, it’s my mom. Give me a minute, Beau.” I hadn’t even noticed that Ruby’s phone had gone off. She stepped away from our table and walked out into the midday sun. From my vantage point, I could just make out the exaggerated hand movements of her arms as they talked.

  My stomach rumbled then.

  I was hungry.

  Realized that I had not eaten properly in the last twenty-four hours. Just a snack here or there.

  Digging inside my wristlet, I pulled out my last twenty before payday and stood. Was about to walk toward the shop’s counter when my path was blocked and a card pushed into my hands...

 

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