I'm trying really hard to focus on organizing my class schedule, but gifts keep arriving.
It has been a week since my first time with Tristan. Since then, we've been meeting at the suite every night at nine o'clock…and I've never been so happy. So cherished and safe and excited to wake up in the morning. My body is sated and sore. My heart is blooming with new love and appreciation for the man who is now my sugar daddy.
The man I want to be so much more.
Soon.
Every time we're together, we become closer.
It's not just about the raw, filthy sex. Or the fact that we're addicting to giving and receiving pleasure from one another. No, it's also about the quiet moments afterwards when he holds me and we talk. About silly things and important ones. Problems that arose during our day apart. Our favorite foods and places in the city and movies.
We are twenty-seven years apart and have different personalities. He's quiet, stern and I'm outgoing, bubbly. He has a ten-year plan and I barely have a ten-minute plan. But we also have a lot in common. We both love classic seventies rock and even play songs while lying in bed together occasionally. Our favorite place to visit is Barcelona, though we've never been there together. And we both have secretly sensitive sides that we keep to ourselves. We share them with each other, though.Tristan doesn't hide from me and I don't hide from him.
Well.
Except for a couple of major secrets I'm keeping. But I don't plan to keep them much longer. Just a little while more. Just until I'm confident he won't freak out when I tell him I want to be with him. Forever. Without being paid. Without him sending me gift after gift.
Speaking of…
I push back from the desk in my bedroom and flit across the cushy white rug. Sunlight glints off the Olympic-sized swimming pool in the backyard and pours into my room, warming me in my belted robe as I make my way out into the hallway and down the stairs, so I can answer the front door. As recently as a year ago, one of the maids would have answered and informed me of the guest, but they've all been released because my father can no longer afford to pay them. I can't have Eric or any of my friends over—they would notice the lack of help immediately. But compared to our staff losing their income, it's not a serious hardship, so I don't complain about not being able to entertain. Besides, if I wasn't home alone right now, there would be a lot of questions regarding the suited messenger on my front porch holding a shopping bag from Cartier.
"Thank you," I say, shaking my head while accepting the silver-and-white bag. I'm smiling all the same, though, because I love knowing Tristan is thinking about me.
Over the course of the last week, he's showered me in jewelry and designer clothing.
Just yesterday, a man arrived with a box containing two sets of keys. One to a Rolls Royce and one to a penthouse apartment, both of which are waiting for me near my college campus. It's as though I'm right on the cusp of true adulthood and a new life is waiting for me to step into. I don't want to wait. If possible, I would move out of my parents' house today, but I have another month before I'm scheduled to move out. Eventually, I'll have to answer questions about my new lifestyle, but I'd like to delay that as long as possible. There's no way I want to rock the boat when everything is so perfect. When my evenings belong to Tristan, just like I've been dreaming about for so long.
I bring the Cartier bag into my bedroom and close the door, pulling out boxes one by one and gasping over the contents. A sapphire necklace, a diamond choker, an array of tennis bracelets and cocktail rings that must have cost him a small fortune.
I've just finished closing the final box when my phone rings.
It's him. Tristan.
Just like that, my body turns to molten liquid, my erogenous zones pulsing at the memory of how he took me last night, my palms flat on the panoramic window, dressed in nothing but five-inch heels while he grunted and groaned, thrusting ferociously into me from behind, the force of his drives lifting me off the ground.
Now, I roll over onto my back and let the silk material of my robe fall open. "Big Daddy," I whisper into the receiver. "I miss you."
His breath is unsteady in my ear. "I miss you, too, baby. Did you get your presents?"
"Yes. Thank you, Tristan, they're beautiful. My favorite is the emerald cocktail ring. I'm already wearing it." I look down at the hand resting on my belly, the huge rock on top. "It matches my panties today."
"Does it?" Was that the sound of him gulping? "Josie, I don't think…" His footsteps signal that he's starting to pace. "I don't think I can wait until tonight to see you."
Slowly, I sit up.
This is a first.
Tristan works like a machine during the day, taking endless meetings and phone calls, making large-scale decisions. The fact that he's stopping in the middle of his work day to call me is unusual in itself, but wanting to see me? That's definitely unexpected.
And my heart is fluttering up into my throat.
Does this mean his feelings for me are…expanding? Getting more serious?
Don't make a big deal out of it. "I can bring you lunch, if you want. I'm working on my class schedule, but I still have a few days to finalize. I need every minute of them," I mutter, wrinkling my nose in the direction of my desk.
"You need help with it?" Tristan asks, then continues briskly. "Bring it with you. We'll work on it."
Okay, I can't just let this go without comment. "You are going to cease conquering the universe in the middle of a weekday to help me with my class schedule?"
"Of course I am." He pauses for an extended moment. "Lia…I am aching."
My lips part on a silent moan, thighs cinching together. "I ache, too, Big Daddy."
His breath begins to rattle in my ear. "I'm not just talking about my cock. I'm aching everywhere. My chest, my gut. You've…done something to me. I can't describe it. Since we agreed on you being mine, my world looks different. I'm less cynical. Less impatient with people. I…it's you, Lia. You're having this effect on me. And I want to see your beautiful face in the daylight. I want to hold you, make you smile. Do I sound ridiculous?"
"What?" I say breathlessly, my hand pressed to my racing heart. "No. No, you don't sound ridiculous. You've done something to me, too—"
My words are interrupted by a loud knock in the background.
"Goddammit," says Tristan. "That's my eleven o'clock meeting." His voice lowers to a rasp. "You'll be here at lunchtime?"
"Of course."
"Thank God. I'm sending a car."
We hang up and all I can do for several seconds is stare straight ahead, processing everything that just occurred. Everything Tristan said. And then I'm launching myself up off the bed with a squeal and turning in wild circles, arms thrown out at my sides.
It's starting to happen.
His feelings are beginning to match mine.
I'm his sugar baby, he's my sugar daddy…but we can be more.
This is proof that he's starting to want something real with me.
With a happy pinch in my throat, I rush to my closet to find the right outfit for visiting…my future boyfriend? At his office. Something sexy, but shows maturity. Something a wife would wear to have a respectable lunch with her husband, while still wanting to make him salivate. When I spy the black, skintight pencil skirt, I take it off the hanger and match it with black stilettos. A silk, champagne-colored crop top that tucks into the high waisted skirt.
Meeting my eyes in the full-length mirror, I'm surprised to find that, despite my happiness and excitement over the recent developments with Tristan, there's a line of concern between my brows. Immediately, I know it's my guilt beginning to weigh on me. Tristan has been so open with me, especially just now on the phone, but I'm keeping important secrets from him? No. I can't do it anymore. Today, I'll come clean about everything. My father being broke, the truth behind the email he was sent, my feelings for him.
I'm going to lay all of my cards out on the table.