But I soothe her.
“Come on, it’s okay. I know him. Besides, where else are we gonna go? It’s just me and you kiddo, just like always.”
And nodding, that blonde head lowers to look at the floor for a moment. But then she raises her face once again, tears in those cornflower eyes.
“Thank you, Carrie,” she says in a whisper. “Thank you. You’ve always protected me. You’ve always done what’s best for me, even if it meant putting yourself in danger.”
I catch her small form to my frame, hugging her tight. Tears course down my cheeks as well.
“We’re gonna be okay,” is my fierce whisper. “You hear? We’re gonna be okay.”
And within a few seconds, we’re into Mason’s car, the billionaire’s face grim as his eyes stare ahead.
“Let’s go,” he grunts. “We need to get you girls safe.”
With that, the Maserati fishtails out of the parking lot, his sure hands powerful on the gears, foot pumping the brake and gas masterfully.
I look back at the apartment, just once. The sagging roof. The broken down steps, the railing that’s splintered through with termites. And like a wraith, my mom appears in the doorway, wailing and waving one arm.
“You’ll never be free of us!” she screams as exhaust clouds her face. “We’re your only flesh and blood! You’ll never get away.”
Turning back resolutely in my seat, I stare forwards, seeing nothing. Because is that true? Other than Nicole, Jim and Rhonda are all I have in the world. They didn’t do a good job taking care of us, but they are my parents, the blood of my blood. I don’t have anyone else. Except now … maybe Mason?
And like he can hear, the billionaire jerks his head my way, blue eyes fierce even as his hands guide the car masterfully through the trash-strewn streets of the Bronx.
“I gotcha, baby girl,” is that stirring rumble. “You can count on me, sweetheart.”
And the tears start for real then. They run down my cheeks in hot trails, even as I try not to make a sound. Because they’re not tears of sadness. They’re tears of joy. I have someone on my side that I can trust. Someone who cares about me. No longer do I need to bear the weight of the world on my own, Mason will help me shoulder the burden. And so with a strangled half-cry, half-sob, I reach over the center console and grab one big hand in mine. It’s warm and calloused, his fingers swallowing my small ones entirely.
“Thank you,” comes my soft breath. “Thank you.”
And something in his eyes flash then. I’m not sure what it is exactly, but if I had to guess, I’d think that the alpha was falling in love. It’s not supposed to be this way, I know. He’s a sugar daddy, and I’m his sugar baby. People in our situation don’t fall in love, that kind of stuff is for fairy tales. But all the same, my heart leaps as my gaze meets Mason’s crystal clear blue eyes. Because even if the billionaire hasn’t fallen in love … I definitely have.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mason
The office is fucking boring after the morning I just had. Oh shit. I did shit to Jim that no human deserves. I beat that man to a pulp until he was moaning incoherently, in a fetal position on the floor. I shoulda gone easier. I shoulda just struck him once and then left off.
But the sight of the loser manhandling my girl made me go ballistic. The blood rushed to my face, every muscle in my body straining. Because when I burst in, Carrie was struggling with her hands pinned behind her back, that curvy body unable to move, face white with fear.
So yeah, it touched off the caveman inside. And like a fucking beast, I ripped that man right off her body. So what if he’s her dad? So what if he’s sixty and weighs about ninety pounds, wasted and gaunt? He was hurting my girl and that was that. Eat dirt, fuckface. Eat it and weep.
Meanwhile, Carrie’s mom wasn’t much better. The woman was ransacking her daughter’s purse, can you believe it? Like a drug addict, she was literally going through everything in my sweet girl’s bag, searching for scraps of what, I have no idea.
So I was tempted to hit her as well. But the civilized man inside took over for an instant, and I merely raised my hand with a threatening expression. The blow never came as the woman fell to her knees before me, tears streaming down her face.
“I just need a little cash!” she bawled. “Just a little moolah!”
By this point, Carrie and Nicole were outside, standing safely in the parking lot. I was tempted to kick this woman in the face, because seriously? After being caught red-handed stealing from her daughter, she was now begging me for dough?
And with a disgusted snort, I gave in. Fuck these fuckers. If that’s what they wanted then fine. Money was all too easy for me. So whipping my wallet out, I made it rain. Oh yeah, I didn’t write a check, nice and easy. Instead, I threw the hundred dollar bills into the air, the green blur like a winter’s snow.
And Jim and Rhonda went berserk. Literally berserk. You would think that they were starving people and I’d just thrown them some crumbs. Because they began scrambling for the money on their hands and knees, stuffing the Benjamins into their pockets, greedily squealing.
“We’re rich!” Rhonda screamed. “Rich rich rich!”
Oh god. Was two thousand dollars in greenbacks enough to make someone rich? Not in my book. But if it got these fuckers off my best girl’s back, then so be it.
And spinning on my heel, I stalked out of that shithole. What a fucking dump. The place had rats, I could smell pesticide mixed with mouse droppings. There was a dead cockroach lying face up in a corner, scrawny legs bent towards the sky.
Fuck. Carrie lived here? Oh shit. She deserved so much better, this hovel was fit for pigs only.
So jumping into the Maserati, I pressed the pedal to the metal. We flew out of there light speed, and not a moment too soon. And then the damndest thing happened. My sweet girl started crying in the front seat. Those big brown eyes, which hadn’t shown an ounce of fear during that ordeal, began to water and huge teardrops rolled down those sweet cheeks.
“Baby,” I said helplessly, still driving the car, one hand fumbling towards hers. “Baby, what can I do?”
She laughed a little through her tears, wiping futilely at that beautiful face.
“Mason,” she managed with a teary smile. “You’ve already done so much. Thank you.”
And oh shit, but my heart started pumping fast, almost beating right out of my chest. Because shit, I wanted her. If I had to do it all over again, I would. I’d beat the crap out of Jim, and beat the crap out of Rhonda too. I’d give them my fortune, put them in rehab, if that’s what made my baby happy.
But it’s not supposed to be this way.
This is a transaction.
I’m paying her to be my fake girlfriend, one that I fuck with gusto.
So yeah, these feelings were so fucked up.
But I couldn’t think about it now. Right now, it was all about taking care of Carrie and Nicole. So pulling up to the Mandarin Oriental, I threw the keys to the valet.
“Same,” was my clipped order.
The freckled-face boy nodded, scampering to do my bidding.
And within twenty minutes, Carrie and Nicole were ensconced in a luxury suite with giant floor to ceiling windows overlooking Central Park.
But the two women were too stunned to appreciate the view. Instead, Nicole sat trembling on the couch, staring as Carrie paced the room.
“I have to get our birth certificates,” the curvy brunette murmured, thinking out loud. “I have to get that, as well as our social security cards, as well as,” she paused, turning to her sister. “What do you need Nicole? Is there anything you need?”
The blonde shook her head slightly, eyes afraid.
“No I’m good Carrie. I got everything, thanks,” she said, patting the small duffel at her side.
I almost guffawed. That bag was no bigger than a knapsack, there couldn’t be more than a couple things in there.
But Carrie nodded her head jerkily.
“Good. Because I only want to go back once, and do a clean sweep. Are you sure there isn’t anything else?” she asks sharply.
And this is where I had to step in.
“Sweetheart,” is my low rasp. “You’re not going back there. Ever.”
The brunette turned to look at me.
“Mason, I have to,” she said, small shoulders straight. “I have to, there are important documents, someone’s got to clean up, there are so many things to do.”
But I cut her off.
“Naw honey. That’s not your job anymore. I have a staff. They’ll take care of it.”
Both girls’ jaws dropped then.
“A staff?” whispered Nicole. “You have people working for you?”
But it was Carrie’s reaction that made my chest go tight.
“You would do that for me?” she asked quietly. “For us, Mason?”
Because shit. All of a sudden, I realized I’d do that and more. I’d take the brunette to the moon. I’d buy her anything she wanted. I’d buy her a new set of parents if that was possible.
But unfortunately, Jim and Rhonda are her biological relatives, and no amount of money can change that. But there are other things.
“Just tell me what you need, honey, and I’ll make it happen. There’s nothing too big or too small.”
And with that, Carrie flew into my arms. That sweetly heaving form pressed into my hardness, making my dick jerk even during this sad situation.
Because that’s what the female does to me. With her little sister sitting not ten feet away, I wanted to weigh those boobies in my hands. I wanted to stroke her creamy cunt, to make the woman gasp with pleasure and forget the ugliness that had happened.
Because she’s mine.
Bought and paid for.
Five thousand a month.
The problem is suddenly this isn’t just about the money anymore.
It’s about something else.
Something real.
Something wild.
And shit … but I can’t wait.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Mason
My secretary’s voice bleeps from the intercom.
“Mr. Channing, it’s Miss Newman on the line,” Rachel chirps. Her voice jolts me from my reverie, and I grab the phone off the hook.
“Sweetheart?” I growl. “How are you?”
“Hi Mason,” is Carrie’s soft reply. “Good. How are you?”
My head falls back just hearing her soft voice, the tension rolling off my back. Shit. How does one small girl do this to me?
“I’m good,” comes my growl. “How are you and Nicole holding up?”
She sighs gently into the receiver.
“I’m worried about Nicole,” she admits. “My sister takes these things hard, so we’ve been talking a lot. I’ve been telling her that Rhonda and Jim can clean up,” she says.
“No they can’t,” I state flatly. “People like that are out of control.” Of course, Carrie didn’t see how her parents became wild animals at the prospect of money, and there’s no need to tell her.
The brunette takes a deep breath.
“I know Mason,” she says softly. “I know Jim and Rhonda aren’t model citizens, not by a long shot. But they’re also our parents, and I can’t badmouth them too much. It’s just not the right thing to do,” she says firmly.
And I have to respect her for that. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Your family is your family, no matter what happens.
“Okay,” I say smoothly. “But that’s Nicole. How are you sweet thing? How are you holding up?”
She sighs into the receiver before giggling lightly.
“Thank you for the hotel, Mason. You didn’t have to. The Mandarin Oriental is a five star place, and you know me and Nicole. We’d be fine with a budget motel, just any small space somewhere.”
A growl escapes from my throat.
“You deserve the best,” are my protective words. “You deserve it, sweetheart, and I’m gonna make sure you have it.”
I can almost hear her smile through the line.
“Thank you Mason, that’s very generous. But we need somewhere to stay permanently, each night must be so expensive. We have to move out, sooner rather than later.”
The Mandarin’s costing me four figures a night, but I don’t tell her that.
“Where are you thinking, sweetheart? Where are you thinking of moving?”
There’s a hesitant pause.
“Well, I’m going to see some places,” she begins. “I only spent a little of what you gave me, so first and last month’s rent aren’t a problem. There’s a guy I know who said he could show me some apartments.”
What?
What guy?
The housing market in the city is beyond predatory, and I don’t trust this clown whoever he is.
“A guy where?” I ask.
Carrie hesitates for a moment.
“Okay, I found him online. He has places in Queens, and –” she begins before I cut her off.
“You’re not moving to Queens,” is my flat reply.
She sighs again.
“Trust me, Mason. It’s fine. Queens is a really nice borough. There are a lot of bungalows, and Forest Hills is really diverse too. I think Nicole would like it. There’s lots of low-rises, plenty of sunshine, and plenty of friendly folks. My sister needs the stability after all this chaos.”
“Plus,” the girl adds in a small voice. “I can’t afford too much more.”
I can’t even believe she’s thinking about money after what happened last night. The woman should just relax and reflect, but instead, Carrie’s in survival mode still. And I have to admire her for it. My girl is alert with a can-do attitude, she’s going to take things into her own hands. Most females would be crying until I agreed to fix everything, whining and wailing to the heavens.
But still.
Queens?
There’s a fucking river between me and Queens.
No way in hell.
I need the girl with me.
So I growl.
“I get it, baby, I really do. But you’re not moving to Queens,” is my flat statement.
The brunette gets sassy then.
“Mason, Queens is nice,” she protests. “There’s air and light and …”
I cut her off.
“Let me have my realtor show you some places,” is my growl. “Trust me, I have a really great broker.”
Carrie laughs breathlessly for a moment.
“Mason, I don’t think your realtor can find any places in my budget.”
My head shakes. Does the girl still not know me? Does she still think that I’m going to let her stay in some shithole forty minutes away because of money?
“You’re not paying for your place,” is my definitive statement. “I am.”
And there’s a long pause on the other end of the phone. I can hear her breathing deeply, collecting her thoughts.
“Mason, that’s very generous,” she says before pausing again.
“But?” I anticipate the second half of her statement.
“But this isn’t in the contract,” she says firmly. “You don’t have to do this. We decided it was going to be a social contract, that I’d go out with you, spend time with you, even sleep in your bed. You don’t have to pay for my housing.”
That’s where she has it wrong.
“No baby, I do,” are my silky words. “I need you in my bed, and the sooner the better. If you’re coming in through the Midtown Tunnel, that’s too long. I need easy access to that pussy, sweetheart. 24/7. So we’ll be meeting with my broker,” are my flat words.
“But Mason,” she whispers again, slightly breathless. That’s right, sweetheart. I need that pussy and ass bad, and ain’t nothing gonna stand in my way.
“No,” is my flat statement. “Don’t argue.”
And for once, Carrie gives up. I can see it already. That little chin stuck out, lips trembling. But final is final.
“Okay,�
� she says softly. “And thank you.”
I grunt.
“You know exactly how to thank me, honey. Later. But for now, let’s look at some apartments.”
I can imagine the blush in her cheeks, how that pussy’s already starting to cream.
“I will thank you,” she almost purrs into the phone. “You’ll like it, I promise.”
Aw shit. Those words have my dick standing on end, desperate to be in her again. But shit, shit, shit! I’m at work. The urge to rub one out, right here in my office is strong. I want to get her on a Skype call and do some serious video sex, my stiffie needs it that bad.
But she purrs again.
“Later tonight, big guy,” is her dulcet promise. “You’ll like it.”
And fuck, but it only makes things worse. Because my dick jerks, a wet spot appearing at my crotch, growing larger with every second. Fuck fuck fuck! I’m gonna have to change, this is so fucking obscene.
And I’m just about to tell her to strip down and show me that pussy over the computer when suddenly a loud bang sounds from her side.
“Don’t slam the door, Nicole,” is Carrie’s exasperated sigh. Again, my girl’s ability to go from innocent to whore is amazing. Because right now, she sounds like a bossy mom, complete with annoyed scowl. My erection fades like some, but that’s the least of my worries.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, eyebrow arched.
The brunette sighs again.
“Nicole wanted to go back and get some clothes, although I told her not to,” she says the last part louder, obviously wanting her sister to hear.
Oh shit. Oh shit shit.
“Did they hurt her?” I spit the words through my clenched teeth, my hand balling into a fist.
“No,” says Carrie flatly. “Rhonda and Jim are sober now, lucid once more. But they sold Nicole’s new clothes for money,” she says in a frigid voice. “They’re heartless, selling their little girl’s things. Nicole, I’ll buy it for you again, it’s not that big of a deal.” She speaks softly to her sister as a mother would.
And suddenly, resolve fills my big frame. I stand, looming tall in the office.
“Are you dressed?” are my clipped words.
Hot Sugar: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance Page 10
