Sugar Daddies (15 page)

“Needs to know what?”

He looked so awkward, so uncharacteristically unsure. He stared at me, and I willed him, willed him just to spit it out.

“It’s important, like I said.” He looked at the ceiling. “It’s a sensitive situation… something you need to know about…”

“Tell me,” I said. “Just tell me…”

Rick’s eyes were dark and horny, his breath still fast as he prepared to answer my question. “Carl needs…”

But another voice told me. It boomed from the hallway. “Lunch,” it said. “Carl needs his fucking lunch.”

I stared open-mouthed at the doorway, and Rick did, too. And my cheeks were burning, just like Rick’s were.

“Carl,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d be coming. You never come.”

I untangled myself entirely from Rick, smoothed down my t-shirt, praying he wasn’t angry,
praying I wasn’t about to be turfed out with my dreams in tatters.

I expected questions, and jealousy, and maybe a bit of outrage, but there was nothing of the sort. Just a sly smirk on Carl’s face.

“I hope you didn’t eat it all up without me
,” he said. “I’m fucking ravenous.”

You’ve got to love walking in on people unexpectedly. The guilt was written all over their faces, dishevelled yet fully clothed, Rick all ready to spill the big condition. Maybe I should have let him, hung back in the hallway and listened to the drama unfold, watched our sweet little pony girl make her excuses and bail on us, just like those before her.

I should have let it happen, and then we could have moved on to plan B. Only plan B sucked donkey balls, and as much as I argued the point when Rick told me so, I thought it, too.

Maybe cute little Katie Serena would surprise me. Her baby blues looked me up and down, her smile nervous and apprehensive as she watched me walk through to the kitchen. Barbeque chicken. Rick really did have it bad.

I was pulling apart a chicken thigh when they joined me, and Rick shot me a look. A
what the fuck
look.

They stood close, shoulder to shoulder, the tension between them smoking and spluttering while I ate my lunch.

“Good day?” Rick asked.

I shrugged. “Busy.”

I fixed my eyes on Katie, and she looked away with a blush. “I thought I should be here to finalise the plans.”

Rick raised an eyebrow. “The plans?”

“The weekend. Brighton. I guess you haven’t finished asking Katie if she’ll join us.”

Katie looked from Rick to me and back again. “Brighton?”

Rick’s eyes were full of questions, his shrug almost unperceivable. “Ice breaker,” he said. “Night out. Cocktails, tunes, dancing.”

“Sex,” I said.

She didn’t flinch. “Sounds great.”

Good girl.

I forked up a token piece of tomato. “We’ll leave Saturday morning, nine sharp. Return Sunday evening.”

She nodded. “Sure.” She turned to Rick. “I’d better go, got a shift this evening.”

“I’ll see you out.”

Of course he would. I smirked. “Bye, Katie, I’ll be seeing you.” I let the words hang heavy, wishing I was close enough to feel her heartbeat as it thumped in her chest.

“Bye, Carl.” Her smile was warm and sweet, despite her apprehension, and there was a pang of familiarity in my stomach. I couldn’t place it, and it made no sense, and yet this girl, this sweet little
package of blonde and freckles and tight ass, was already under my skin.

And she was already well, well under Rick’s. He led her out by her hand, and there was a tenderness there. He had it bad alright
. Sap.

I cleared
the rest of the chicken, and was already in the hallway with my keys in my hand when Rick came back inside.

“What was that?” he said. “I was all fucking set.”

I stared past him, listening to Katie’s rust bucket of a car chug from the drive. “A few weeks,” I said. “We’ll give her a chance.”

“A few weeks? What good will a few fucking weeks do, Carl?”

And I didn’t know. I really didn’t know.

He took hold of my hand, lifted it to his mouth, and sucked in my sticky fingers, scraping the barbecue sauce off with his teeth. My nostrils flared, a flourish of tingles through my balls.

His eyes never left mine as he sucked on my thumb, sucked hard until it was clean.

He stepped back, “I’m sure I heard your cock twitch,” he said, passing me a tea towel. “I’m already hard.”

“I’d noticed,” I said, wiping my hands and discarding the towel.

“I want to fuck you,” he said and grimaced at my raised eyebrow.

I pulled him to me, pressed my lips to his. He tasted of her, and that my made cock twitch even more. Then he was hugging me, tight. I hugged him back.

“I’ve got to go,” I said. “I’m presenting at three.”

He blew out a sigh. “Yeah, whatever.”

“You could have fucked her.”

“I wanted to.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No.”

He pulled away. “Why are you here? I thought you couldn’t make it?”

“Saturday,” I said. “We’ll really get her measure on Saturday.”

He didn’t reply, not until I was in the doorway, the Range bleeping as I pressed unlock.

“You like her, don’t you? Fucking hell, Carl, you really like
her. That’s why you’re here.”

I gave him a wink before I pulled the door shut.

Not nervous, not nervous, not nervous. Definitely not nervous. No way.

I’d packed too many clothes for a night away, virtually the entire passable collection from my wardrobe, but what was a girl to do? A night out in Brighton could mean anything. Posh dinner? Ballroom dancing? A basement rave? Partying on the beach?

Should have packed those glittery pumps. They’d pass for beach party attire. Crap.

Rick smiled across at me, and I wished I could see his eyes through
his shades. “Not too long now.” He turned the music up a notch, but Carl tapped the back of his seat.

“I’m expecting a call,” he said, gruffly, and Rick turned it back down. He shook his head at me, and I laughed. My neck prickled as Carl leaned forward, his chiselled face appearing so close, right between our seats. “Some of us have to work,” he said, and then his phone started up.

He’d been in the back seat the whole journey, his laptop on his lap and his phone beeping and whizzing. I didn’t mind. I liked it up front with Rick. I liked it a lot.

Maybe I even liked the guy in the back seat a little, too.

I relaxed into the leather of the seat, the sun hitting my skin through the window as the world outside passed me by. I could do this. Carl, I mean. Maybe not do him do him. The thought of fucking him still brought me out in a cold sweat, but this, being with him. This I was getting used to.

His humour was dry, and he was uptight, and snarky, and a mega workaholic, but he was alright.

I was surviving Carl Brooks.

I was loving Rick Warner.

And I had three lovely fucking grand in my bank account.

Three!

Three lovely grand in my bank account, two fat dicks in my pussy later, and an industrial bottle of lube in my suitcase. Lube and paracetamol. And sanitary pads, for the internal bleeding I couldn’t imagine avoiding as Carl’s monster
dick tore into me. Not really, I didn’t have room in my case for non-essential toiletries. I smiled at the surrealism of my predicament, and Rick smiled back, put a hand on my knee. I put mine on top and squeezed, and I knew then I’d be alright.

I’d never been to Brighton. It was taller than I was expecting, a string of big hotels on the front, and the sea to my right. I pressed my face to the window and my heart jumped as we passed the bustle of the pier. I should have definitely brought my glittery pumps. Rick pulled into the underground parking of a grand looking hotel just a short way beyond, prime position, and Carl groaned as his mobile signal cut out.

“Fuck,” he said.

We parked up, and got out, and Carl was already wandering away, his phone in his hand as he stared at the screen and angled it for signal. Rick touched a hand to my elbow and winked at me, and then he leapt after Carl, sneaking behind him to whip the phone from his fingers. He pranced away as Carl rushed after him, and I laughed as they played a stand-off, Rick poised on one side of the Range Rover as Carl came after him.

“Prick,” Carl said. “I need that.”

“Nah,” Rick laughed. “Not this weekend.”

“Yes, this fucking weekend!”

“No way!” Rick made a dash for it, and I laughed as Carl charged after him, and then there was a shake down and in a beat Rick had shoved the phone down the front of his jeans, and he was smirking, hip thrusting as Carl tried to get a grip on his belt.

“You think that’s going to fucking stop me? I’ll have your pants round your fucking ankles, I don’t give a shit.”

A family of four approached from the stairwell and stood mute by their Mercedes, and I laughed, oh hell how I laughed, hard enough to double over as Rick got close enough to the exit that Carl’s phone started ringing in his pants. He gyrated his crotch, jumping about, his face a picture as the handset chimed and buzzed against his dick.

“That’s important!” Carl growled, and I had to cover my face with my arm, laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe. Rick handed it back with a grin once the call had rung out, and Carl jabbed his arm. “You’re such a fucking idiot, Richard. Such a fucking dick.”

But even Carl was smiling. He dropped the smile as he saw me laughing.

“Glad my professional humiliation is amusing you, Katie,” he said. But he was playing, I saw it in his eyes. He looked from me to Rick and back again and then he groaned and pressed the off button. “Fine. I’m done for the weekend.”