Hot Sugar

Always an optimist, even with losers like her parents.

Because I’m drawn to the female in more ways than one. She’s magnetic, entrancing, and oh so sweet, rolled into a beautifully curvy package.

And suddenly realization burst to the fore of my brain like an explosion gone mad.

She was more than a sugar baby.

The woman was more than a plaything, a fuck toy that I used and abused.

Sure, I pay the brunette, but what’s wrong with that? It’s not like wives don’t get paid. They do, it’s just sanctioned by society in that case.

And suddenly, realization clomped down on my head like a load of bricks.

I love Carrie.

Absolutely, one hundred percent, balls to the wall.

That type of love.

And suddenly, the plane couldn’t fly fast enough.

Bolting in my seat, I lean forwards.

“I have to see her,” are my furious words, eyes blazing. “I need to talk to her.”

And one of the benefits of being a billionaire is that there’s an in-flight phone. Immediately, the blocky piece of plastic was in my hand, fingers fumbling as they dialed.

Oh shit, oh shit.

What do I say?

I didn’t mean it, baby.

I didn’t mean to be so crass and cruel, to cut you off like you were nothing.

I didn’t mean to shut you out like you’re worth zero.

You’re not worth nothing, pretty girl.

You’re worth everything to me.

And I’m coming home … because we belong together.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Carrie

I stare straight ahead, seeing nothing.

Because there’s nothing.

Nothing to life.

Two weeks ago, Mason said goodbye.

He hasn’t kicked me out of this apartment. He hasn’t asked me for any clothes or jewelry back.

But I know it’s coming.

He’s been in Paris, too busy to deal.

But it’s coming.

Because he’s a businessman, and he put a bet on me.

But it went sour.

The sugar baby who was his kept woman? Now the press is painting me as a helpless victim.

And my parents have been on TV, saying all sorts of nasty things.

Our daughter was whisked off her feet by an older man.

She didn’t know.

She’s too young to know.

She might have been a minor.

Mason Channing must have drugged her, it’s the only way.

But it’s not true. I was always eighteen. And no, there were no drugs. No cocaine, no pot, no date-night drug.

Just him.

That dominating masculinity.

The harsh blue gaze that made my skin sizzle.

And that giant dong.

Oh god, it felt good inside, and even now, my pussy aches from emptiness.

But it shouldn’t be like this.

I shouldn’t have fallen in love.

That’s the cardinal rule of being a sugar baby. Do not develop feelings.

But it happened anyways.

Oh god, oh god.

How did things get so fucked up?

A knock sounds softly on my door.

I don’t answer at first, and then the knock comes again, more insistent this time.

“Carrie?” comes my sister’s voice. “Carrie? I have some soda for you.”

I sigh, sitting limply on the bed.

“Come,” is my listless murmur.

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.