Sugar Daddies Page 3

  Carl raised an eyebrow. “But you’re not going to?”

  “No. I’m not going to.” I kept my eyes steady. Determined. He wasn’t the only one who had steel.

  I breathed in relief as he looked away. “I do admire those who know what they want out of life.”

  Rick laughed. “Carl doesn’t tolerate indecision easily.” I filed that away for future reference. He dug in his pocket, pulled out some rolling tobacco. “Going to head out for a smoke,” he said. His eyes sparkled, full of meaning. “Do you?”

  I placed my wine on the counter. “I’ll come for some fresh air.”

  Carl didn’t move, not even a muscle, and I was glad. He held up his mobile as we made our way outside. “I’ll just check my emails.”

  The garden was impressive, like the rest of the pad. A big wooden table with chairs, and two of those chiminea burners. There was a covered area for smoking, the whole place edged with a classy rock garden. It was as swish as the interior. Impressive and imposing. Rick rolled his cigarette as his eyes weighed me up.

  “He’s difficult, but he’s really cool when you get to know him.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “No, he’s fine.”

  Rick smirked, placing his roll up between his lips. “He’s difficult. He knows it, too. He can’t help himself.”

  “Really, he’s fine.” I smiled, and hoped I appeared genuine. In reality the guy intimidated the shit out of me, enough to set my nerves alight. A healthy thousand in my bank account made it a lot easier to stay put, but the thought of fucking the guy was enough to bring me out in a cold sweat. Rick on the other hand, Rick I’d do for fun.

  His smile was so easy. “I’m glad you came.”

  “Thanks, me too.”

  “Some don’t,” he admitted. “For some it’s all talk. I hoped you’d show.”

  “I’m serious about this,” I said. “The idea suits me.”

  “How so?”

  I let myself relax in his presence, catching the scent of him on the breeze. “I don’t get much chance for dating. University, two jobs, horse to look after.”

  “But university’s over.”

  “Just frees me up for more stable time.”

  “Priorities, I get it.” He leaned against the wall. “You’re nicer than I hoped. Your smile is cuter.”

  “Thanks.” I leaned beside him. “You’re nicer than I hoped. Taller.”

  “Seriously, don’t mind Carl,” he said. “He’s really something when you get to know him.”

  “I’m sold,” I laughed. “Don’t worry, I can handle it.”

  “I really hope so.” He reached for my hand, pulled me into him, until I could smell beer and smoke, and him. “You don’t need to rush, by the way. Neither of us expect anything, not tonight.”

  But I did want something. I wanted him. The mess of his hair was perfect, the lean lines of him pleasing to the eye. His tattoos were hot, patterns and hearts and stars over tight muscle. He wet his lips, and I caught sight of chrome. A tongue bar. I wondered how it would feel against my clit, and the thought shocked me. The extent of my attraction to Rick shocked me.

  “You said you had piercings, you didn’t say which.”

  He poked his tongue out, showing it in its full glory. “Tongue, nipples.” He paused. “Cock.”

  Excitement fizzed. “You have your cock pierced?”

  He grinned. “You could say that.”

  I forced my mind back to Carl. No favouritism, as per the rules. “And Carl, does he?”

  He shook his head. “No, he’s a blank canvas, not even a hint of a piercing. How about you?”

  “Only my ears.”

  I couldn’t stop thinking about Rick’s cock. About the piercings, and the tats, and the glint of chrome in his mouth.

  He stubbed his cigarette in the ashtray. “Better go back in.”

  I nodded, but took his wrist as he made to pass. “How many times have you done this?”

  “Women?” He stared at me. “Five from Sugar Daddy. A few before it.”

  Wow! “None of them worked out?”

  “Some.” He looked through the window, checking for Carl. “One we really liked. It’s a long story.” He moved his hand, took my fingers in his. “None of them worked out, no.” He smiled and moved closer, and my breath stopped as his mouth paused just an inch from mine. “I’m pleased they didn’t, though, to be honest.”

  “You are?”

  His body touched to mine, fingers trailing up my back, and it was scorching. Chemistry. Fucking chemistry.

  “I’m really pleased they didn’t,” he said. “Because not one of them made me feel half as excited as you have since you walked through our door.”

  I willed him to kiss me, just to feel the warmth of his mouth on mine, just to see. Just to feel. Just to squash the nerves, and the tension and the excitement. But he didn’t.

  “Carl will be waiting,” he said.

  I could see them through the window. Enough of them to know Rick had the hots for Little Miss Horsey.

  It made me smirk to myself. Rick, with his heart on his sleeve. Literally as well as figuratively. His tattoos were full of them. Hearts and stars and weird patterns.

  I wondered if he’d kissed her yet.

  The flush on their faces as they came back inside made me consider it, but no. We have boundaries, and Rick sticks to them.

  Trust.

  It means everything.

  I refilled Katie’s glass, and she chugged another load back as though it wasn’t vintage. I liked that about her already. She lacked any kind of pretence. She was spirited, and free. Classy, without being stuck up.

  A body to fucking die for.

  And a sparkle in her eyes that made it clear she wanted this.

  Correction. A sparkle in her eyes that made it clear she wanted Rick. They always wanted Rick. Rick is fun, and sexy, and puts people at ease. Me not so much.

  I could live with that. I didn’t give a shit about that. But I did give a shit about time. Six months was too long to wait, six months was wasted time, a stupid dance that could lead to a fat pile of frustration.

  Six months was unacceptable.

  I needed to know she could deliver, and I needed to know a fuck of a lot quicker than six bastard months.

  Rick wiggled his eyebrows at me, and Katie was attached to him, her hand in his. They’d be fucking already if I wasn’t here, and I knew it.

  “Have you eaten?” I asked, and she nodded.

  “I grabbed something before I came over.”

  “Do you need to call anyone, let them know you’re still in one piece?”

  She shook her head. “I’m all good. Mum’s at work. I’m a big girl, she doesn’t worry about me.”

  “She’s your mother. Mothers worry.” I raised an eyebrow.

  “I’ve never given her cause to worry,” she said. “This is way above my usual level of crazy.”

  “You’re quite safe,” I said. “A risk that paid off.”

  “Yeah.” She smiled, but her eyes were on Rick. “It did.”

  Drink always makes conversation so much easier. I kept my head, holding back on the wine while Rick knocked back the beers, and Katie loosened up on a couple of glasses of red. I let them talk, and I watched. I always watch.

  Rick told her about graphic design, and made her laugh about some of his clients. Only Rick can make work funny like that. He asked her about her uni course, and her friends, and her horse.

  She showed him a thousand pictures, but only showed me one.

  She asked him a thousand questions, but only asked me a couple.

  She touched his arm a hundred times, but kept her body an ocean away from mine.

  Yet her eyes kept finding me, and kept staring, and there were nerves there, intoxicating nerves that tempted me to say fuck it, and grab hold of her tight little body and pound the fuck out of her over the kitchen island. I did nothing, just watched.

  I checked my watch when they went out for another ci
garette, and the time was getting on. Midnight called, and the stakes were getting higher. To fuck or not to fuck.

  Her choice, and I couldn’t call it.

  She was under his arm when they came back in this time, his fingers trailing the soft skin of her forearm. She was resting against him easily, her smile bright and body relaxed. It made me feel surprisingly irritated, an outcast in my own kitchen, even though I knew the idea was ludicrous.

  Rick’s eyes told me the idea was ludicrous.

  He grabbed another beer from the fridge and this time he came to my side, pressed his body against mine, his hands on my waist. Katie watched, and her pupils were big, the wine making her openly curious.

  She was picturing us fucking, I could tell. I could practically see us behind her eyeballs. No doubt I’d be on top, Rick squirming under me while I pounded his hot little asshole.

  She’d have that much right.

  On cue she crossed her legs, and I watched the press of her thighs as she clenched.

  She’d be wet. Wet and tight. Nervous and needy.

  We should take her. Fuck her until she squealed like a wanton little bitch and earned her thousand.

  Rick’s breath was in my ear. “Bedtime soon?”

  I nodded. “Definitely soon.” I stared at Katie, loving the way she blushed with wine and self-consciousness. “Will you be wanting the spare room?”

  She twiddled her hair in her fingers, and it wasn’t meant to be provocative, I’m certain of it, just absent-minded, but I felt it right the way through my cock. “I think so,” she said. “If that’s alright? I mean, I’ll stay with you, just, the first night is…”

  “It’s cool,” Rick said. “We get it. Spare room is fine.”

  I didn’t say a word, and there was no point.

  We’d put her in the spare room, and she’d wriggle her way under the covers and pretend that’s where she wanted to be, and maybe it would be.

  But not for long.

  She was too curious, and too excited, and her body wanted Rick too fucking much to stay put.

  I’d put money on it. Much more than a measly fucking grand.

  Time to check out my predictions. I squeezed Rick’s neck, my fingers massaging his throat. “Let’s call it a night.”

  Katie drank her wine back, placed the glass on the side. “I’ll get my bag,” she said.

  I watched Rick walk her out, saw the huddle of them by her car. A big fucking thing for such a dainty looking girl.

  “I’ll show Katie up,” he said as they stepped back inside, but I shrugged.

  “No need, I’m coming up, too. We’ll all go up.”

  I led the way, purposefully opening the guest room right next to ours. I pointed out the en suite, the tumbler and mineral water on the dressing table, and then I left her there, backing Rick out of the door with me.

  Her eyes followed us until I closed the door.

  And Rick was pissed at me. His breath was in my ear, all hissy and angry.

  “You could have at least let me kiss her.”

  “Chill the fuck out, loverboy,” I said, pacing through to our own room.

  “Jesus, Carl. I could have warmed her up to the idea.”

  “She’s fucking wet for it,” I said, my voice low. “She’s like a bitch on heat over the idea of your cock in her tight little snatch. You’d have to be blind not to see that.”

  “Both of us,” he said. “She wants both of us.”

  I laughed. “Like fuck she does.” My eyes met his. “But she will.”

  He pulled the bedroom door shut, but I shook my head and threw it wide. And then I unbuttoned my shirt while he watched, and his eyes were hooded, the swell of his cock plain as day in his fucking jeans.

  “Now get naked and get on that fucking bed,” I said. “And I’ll prove my theory about Little Miss Tight Snatch next door.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief once my bedroom door was closed. Just me. Alone and in one piece. Albeit one slightly inebriated piece. Carl may be curt, and blunt, and really fucking intimidating, but he could sure pick a decent wine. I chalked up a point on his virtual scoreboard.

  So far it went a little like this…

  Rick. Score: 879. Hair, smile, tats, tongue bar, artistic, funny, nice chest, good hugs. Cool shoes. Dimples. Nerdy-chic. I opened my overnight bag and pulled out my satin slip. Tongue bar. That was worth at least a hundred points on its own.

  Carl. Score: 001. Good wine picker.

  Scrap that.

  Carl. Score: 002. Good wine picker. Scary hot.

  Is scary hot even a thing? I pictured Carl’s looming muscular frame, his hard jaw. Chiselled from steel and softened to perfection with goat’s milk and the tears of young virgins. That’s how I imagined him. Yes, scary hot was a thing.

  Rick, hot. Carl, scary hot.

  Katie. Score: 1000.

  I checked my mobile banking app again just to be sure, and the balance made me smile. Three grand a fucking month. Nice work, Katie, well played.

  It seemed all so easy now there was a closed door between us.

  I cast aside my heels, dress and push-up bra — and hell, what a relief. On closer inspection of my bedtime attire, I decided to stick with my slut-knickers — a scrap of lace that was more frill than substance — as much as anything because I didn’t feel my regular bedtime panties were deserving of the opulence of this place. The room was more like a posh hotel gig than someone’s spare. Another point for Rick, his interior decor skills were faultless. This room was cream and black, stark and striking, with a huge white bed and black scatter cushions. Shabby chic furniture, but the uber-expensive kind. I mean, I even had a bottle of mineral water on the dresser for Christ’s sake. Who even does that?

  I poured some out and glugged it back, then slipped my skimpy satin slip over my head. I’d never wear this crap at home, but it felt right here. I caught sight of myself in the mirror and it barely skimmed my arse, plunging down into a truly indecent v at my cleavage, too. I teased the knots from my hair, then struck a pose. Escort Katie looked confident as she stared back at me. Baby-doll satin and wine, a winning combination.

  My confidence shrivelled faster than a piece of Rick’s dehydrated tofu when I heard footsteps on the landing outside. In a panic I flicked off the light and dived into bed, burrowing under the sheets as though they had the power to render me invisible. I listened until my ears were ringing, but there was no more movement. The faint orange glow disappeared from beneath the door as the landing light went out.

  I caught my breath, tossing back the bedcovers enough to feel the cool of the air.

  It seemed I really had escaped a night of double-fucking. The thought was both a relief and a disappointment, but mostly a relief. There was a niggle, though, under the surface. The niggle that it would be so much harder next time around after having baulked and opted for the spare at the first opportunity. Maybe I should have fucked them, broken the ice and earned my money. I’d shaved and everything, and show me a single girl who wants to go to all the bother of shaving her bits for a non-event. Not this one.

  I shuffled down into the mattress, and it was comfortable. Much better than my one at home.

  Fuck, how I wished I was fucking Rick. Just Rick. His hot tatted body over mine.

  But Carl.

  Shit.

  There was fear lurking under the bravado and I wished I couldn’t feel it. Bravado was good, bravado kept you safe and happy and smiling, confident in the face of a world that wants to judge you and tear you down at every opportunity. Everyone loves the smiling, confident, happy-go-lucky girl, and mainly that was me. Mainly. But here I felt out of my depth, galloping into the unknown for the sake of a small-time dream nobody in the world except me took seriously.

  I rolled onto my side, my knees to my chest, snuggling down into the pillows and heading for sleep.

  Until the noises came.

  Just one at first, and it was him, Rick. My heart did a little flutter.

  His groan
was loud and guttural, and slightly pained, followed by another that was even more pained. Sex noises are always so unmistakeable. They churned in my stomach, and made me feel guilty, and awkward, and… horny. My breath was shallow as I listened for more. Low, deep grunts in a staccato rhythm, and I couldn’t stop my mind chasing them, wondering what was happening through the wall, even though the pulse between my thighs already knew. Oh God, I knew.

  And oh my fucking God, how I wanted to see.

  There was still enough wine in my system to urge me on, and my thighs fell open, fingers slipping inside my lacy thong. I wondered if Rick was pinned, held tight to the bed as Carl’s steely body took him. I wondered how much it was hurting, if it really was as rough as it sounded, but soon his groans turned from pained to desperate, and altogether more frantic. I strained my ears for more, hoping for the sound of flesh slapping flesh. Hoping for the sound of Carl, too. Maybe he was whispering, maybe his mouth was on Rick’s ear, telling him how good it felt, how tight he was. Maybe he was talking about me.

  Maybe he was talking about what he was going to make me do for my three grand a month.

  Maybe next time it would be me grunting in pain as Carl slammed me into the bed.

  The idea set me on fire, and I could hardly think, hardly breathe, lost to everything but the dirty need to take two men. Those two men. I’d wanted Rick on sight, probably more than I’d ever wanted anyone in my life. The genuine confidence in his swagger, his ease in his own skin, the way he flicked his tongue piercing when he knew I was staring at his mouth. But here, safe in the room next door, I wanted Carl, too. I wanted him in a way that scared me, right from the depths of my seedy fantasies. I wanted to be nervous of him, I wanted him to intimidate me, and use me and make me take it all. I wanted to cry out like Rick had as he forced his way inside me.

  My clit was on fire under my fingers, my pussy so needy as I slipped two inside, but the noises quietened too soon and left me bereft. I held my breath and listened hard to catch the faintest sound, but there was only a series of quiet groans. The promise of a louder volume was enough to get me out of bed, tiptoeing to the wall. I pressed my ear to the brickwork, and they were still going at it. I could hear the noises from their bed, the thump of wood against brick as a headboard hit against the wall. And Carl, I heard Carl, but his voice was too low to make out any words. It was a no brainer. I drained the last of the water from my glass and placed it against the wall, my ear gently to it.