Hot Sugar: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  WHAT?

  My eyes goggle, cheeks blowing up in protest. But no words can come out, he’s stuffed me full in anticipation.

  He smirks again.

  “That’s right,” he croons, blue eyes gleaming. “Get up here and stuff that pretty anus full.”

  I contemplate running. I contemplate dashing for the door and screaming my head off. But what would I say? This man owns my all, money was exchanged.

  So slowly, my body creeps forward, levering itself onto the bed until I’m on my hands and knees, waiting for him.

  But Mason shakes his head.

  “Naw pretty baby. Like I said, you gotta put this in yourself. But here, I’ll help,” he says magnanimously. “I’ll get it lubed up for you.”

  And without missing a beat, the billionaire picks up the butt plug in one hand and puts it right under his fuckshaft. Slowly squeezing that massive pole, a little squirt of semen jets out, coating the toy. Oh my god. The lube we’re using is his DNA? That’s all? Oh my god, oh my god.

  But Mason’s a motherfucker, and he grins knowingly.

  “Don’t worry sweet thing. This is more than enough. Here, I’ll rub it in for you.”

  And that big hand strokes over the plug, getting it shiny and oiled up, the rubber warm and soft.

  “You ready sweet thing?” he asks. “You ready for this?”

  No, I’m not ready. But somehow my chin nods.

  And taking one small hand in his, he puts the butt plug in my palm.

  “Push it in,” he grinds out, smiling at me lasciviously. “Let Daddy watch you do the insertion.”

  My boobs are trembling. My pussy’s dripping with fluids, dying to be penetrated. But he wants my ass, and I have to obey.

  So slowly shifting, I sit on the bed facing him, legs sprawled. Oh god. This is such an embarrassing position, so revealing, my sweet slit pulled wide on its own.

  And Mason’s staring, eating up that slick wetness, chest rising heavily as he breathes in, then out.

  “Fuck baby,” is his pant. “Fuck you’re so gorgeous.”

  And that gives me the courage to begin. Leaning back so that my anus rolls forward, I start the insertion. Pressing the toy against my back end, my eyes close as I moan.

  “Unnnh,” comes the guttural sound. “Unnnh, unnnh.”

  But it’s not enough. My pleats are tense, they’re not letting anything in. So reaching my other hand around, I start working a nipple, pulling at the hard nub before corkscrewing off with an audible pop.

  “Unnh!” comes my delighted shriek. “Mmmph!”

  That helps a little. This time, as I press against my anus again, the toy slips in a little, breaching my dark hole.

  “Mmmph!” I scream out around the panties, mouth stuffed full. “Mmmph!”

  But it’s not enough. The billionaire leans forward then, trailing a big finger over my stomach.

  “Sweet thing, how about if I help?” he rasps, eyes all over my curves.

  There’s nothing I want more than for Mason to push the plug in for me. Wouldn’t that make things easier? Wouldn’t the insertion go down smoother?

  But no, he wants me to do it. He wants the virgin to violate her own ass with a toy, taking her own anal cherry like the dirty girl she is. So instead of helping me push it in, instead that big finger trails downwards to my clit, niggling it before softly stroking along the bottom.

  “Unnnh,” I moan, head tilting back, eyes closed. “Unnnh.”

  Oh god, oh god. This is so wrong. I’m spreading my legs for the billionaire, ramming a butt plug up my own anus as he toys with my love nub. Oh god, how did this happen? How did I get so slutty?

  But the thing is, Mason knows what he’s doing. And as he rubs my nub, circling around it before giving it a stiff pinch, my ass loosens. The plug inches inside, slowly, smoothly, until it’s fully stuffed up there, my rectal walls clamping tight around the shaft.

  “Ohhhh,” is my delighted moan, head tilted back as my body savors the penetration. “Ohhh.”

  And the big man growls approvingly, eyes trailing fire over my curves.

  “That’s it, sweet thing. Now fuck yourself with it. Get that big ass stretched out.”

  And I do as ordered. Slowly, I pull the plug out, both of us watching as that rubber head reappears. It’s shiny and black, coated with a mixture of my anal sweat and his bubbly jism. It’s disgusting, and yet such a turn-on at once.

  Because with another smooth stroke, I push it in again, and this time it goes in so much easier. The slide is delicious, reaching all the way up my spine and I shiver uncontrollably.

  Mason chuckles deep in his chest.

  “Baby likes getting her butt fucked hmm? You’re an anal slut at heart, aren’t you? Well, well, who knew?”

  And I can’t deny it. I won’t. I love being here with him, indulging in the depraved and dirty. I love the vistas he opens, beckoning me to come and play. So with another deep slide, I shove the plug into my ass again, this time stirring it deliciously in my chamber, working my rectal walls.

  “Unnh!” comes my helpless shriek. “Unnh, unnh!”

  And the scene drives Mason closer and closer to the edge. Because suddenly that big dick is by my mouth, dripping onto my lips.

  “Suck it,” he rasps. “I need to be in you.”

  And obediently, my lips open, taking the monster down my throat even as I continue fucking my butt down below.

  But Mason’s never gonna be satisfied with oral when there are two perfectly good holes down below. So in a flash, he’s out, and this time he takes control.

  Pulling the butt plug out with an audible pop, he inspects my anal gape.

  “Still small,” he rasps, eyeing the tiny brown pucker, now slightly pink from stretching. “But it’s gonna have to do.”

  And with that, he pummels my ass. Yeah, in one forceful thrust the huge monster is all the way into my anus, sliding up my rectal chamber and making me scream.

  “Unnnh!” is my helpless shout. “Unnh, unnnh!”

  But Mason’s a man on a mission and can’t be stopped. He pulls back, watching as that shiny length reappears from between my ass cheeks before pushing back in with another forceful thrust.

  “Unnnnh!” I scream this time, fucked so hard yet loving it. “Unnh! Unnh!”

  And the billionaire growls as his chest pants and heaves.

  “That’s right,” he grunts. “That’s right, baby’s butt was meant for fucking.”

  And oh god, but it’s so fast and hard then that my boobs jiggle, bottom reamed thoroughly. I never thought it’d be like this. I always thought my first time would be delicious yes, but also slow and sensual, a man easing something up my bottom centimeter by centimeter.

  Not this. Not a giant dong ramming the daylights out of me as I scream with pleasure.

  Because it’s so good. Everything with this man is mindblowing, and even as I yelp with terror, delight’s mixed into the brew. The hard drills send shivers up my spine, pussy clenching and clamping even as my butt’s pounded.

  “Ahh!” is my helpless cry. “Ah ah!”

  And then it happens. With nothing but his cock in my anus, I come. He hasn’t touched my clit again, pussy totally empty. It’s the billionaire himself, massive form looming over my frame as I accept his hardness like a champ.

  And Mason loses it too. As my rectum spasms uncontrollably on his cock, milking it hard, the alpha emits a roar, so loud that my eardrums almost burst.

  “FUUUUCK!” is that conquering cry. “FUCK!”

  And jism blasts hotly then, rope after rope of sticky cum coating my anal walls. It’s so dirty, the hot liquid flooding my insides.

  “Mmmm,” is my delicious moan. “Mmm.”

  And oh god, but the pumping goes on for a couple minutes. Both the alpha and I are lost, coasting on the waves together, riding with ecstasy as that big dong releases in my back end. And I just want more. There are no regrets, no doubts, nothing but pleasure and gratitude.

 
; Because this man saved me. We met through a dirty site for sugar babies and sugar daddies. But Mason’s gone out of his way to make me happy. He rescued me from my parents. He helped me find an apartment. He’s paid for countless items, not just clothes and jewelry.

  And most of all, he’s kind to me and my sister, tolerating Nicole even when she’s a thorn in his side. Because the billionaire doesn’t have to do anything, this is a transaction after all. But Mason’s actions, his gestures, and those long looks tell me that something’s in the air … and I only hope it’s love.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Mason

  “I’ve made it clear – we need an international and a national campaign. They’re focusing on New York media, when all of Paris is out of the loop,” protests Tim, our burly head of marketing.

  Kim, his associate, nods in agreement.

  “Exactly,” she whispers sibilantly, eyeing the ad agency guys with suspicion. “Paris is where we need to focus.”

  Bored, I yawn, not even bothering to hide it. Because I checked out of this fight a while ago. That’s what money does right? I pay these folks to sweat the small stuff, leaving me to focus on the bigger picture.

  Besides, how can I think about business after last night? It was incredible. I thought sexual performance peaked at eighteen for men, but at forty-five I’m still goin’ strong. Oh yeah, I took Carrie’s sweet little butt last night, dong in anus style, and it was fucking amazing.

  Because outside the bedroom, she’s as sweet as a kitten. You’d never know, looking into those big brown eyes, the soft whisper of her voice. But in private, it’s all different. All the holds are off, and the female goes wild. Soft whispers? Please. Full on screams is more like it, boobies jiggling, cunt wet. And oh shit, that ass. I reamed her so hard, the gape afterwards was fucking obscene, all that jism dripping out.

  But it was good. Real good. Better than that in fact, fucking perfect. Because Carrie answers to my animal within, while also satisfying my need for a good girl. I can’t go about parading some slut on my arm, it’d be too embarrassing.

  So yeah, this female is the best of both worlds, and the realization jolts me to my bones.

  “Alright gentlemen,” I nod, waving as they stand. “That’s enough. Let’s discuss this later.”

  Immediately, people rise to their feet, grabbing papers before filing out. But I don’t get up. Not when I’ve got a rock-hard stiffie under the marble table top.

  And the second I’m alone, I call Carrie. WTF? Neglecting my empire to tend to a sweet girl? But it’s worth it, and it’s what I want.

  “Hi,” she answers excitedly on the first ring.

  “How’s it going?” I try to sound casual, even as my body hardens at those sweet tones.

  “It’s going great, really great. Nicole just got here, so she’s decorating her bedroom and I’m letting her help with the living room too,” she chirps, excitement clear in her voice.

  “Everything’s on rush order, right?” I growl.

  She giggles.

  “Yeah, everything we’re picking will be here today. It’s all in house, so they don’t have to get it from a third party provider,” she explains.

  I pause for a moment.

  “Make sure they know there’s no budget,” I say bluntly.

  She gasps.

  “Thank you,” she says softly. “I appreciate it so much.”

  And I smile then. Because Carrie deserves it. After the hard life she’s had, she deserves a little luxury, and it’s easy enough for me to give it to her. A snap of my fingers, and it’s hers. But then Carrie interrupts.

  “What are you doing?” she speaks softly into the phone.

  “Just finished a meeting,” is my reply. “Boring, as usual.”

  She pauses for a moment, soft breathing audible on the phone.

  “I miss you,” comes her whisper, and my eyes close at the need in her voice, knowing she wants me as badly as I want her.

  And the truth is, I miss her too. Even though we’ve only been apart for a few hours, already my body hums with need, my mind reaching to her over the wide expanse.

  Her voice jolts me from my reverie.

  “Did you hear me?” she whispers again.

  Ah, so Baby wants to play.

  “What do you miss about me, sweetheart?” I tease roughly.

  But she’s so innocent, so giving.

  “I miss your smell, Mason, the feel of your hair between my fingers. The way you look at me, how you always check to see if I’m okay or if I need anything. I miss feeling your arms wrapped around me, making me feel tiny. I just miss you,” she admits shyly.

  Holy shit. Her sincerity rocks me to the bones. Fuck. I’ve never heard those words from a woman before. Usually, it’s more along the lines of, “Can you buy me this?” or “How about that one then?”

  Carrie’s words are the opposite.

  Absolutely mindblowing.

  Enough to make my heart pump like a machine.

  But I put a lid on it.

  Acting casual, my reply is nonchalant.

  “I’m just up the street, sweetheart,” I chuckle. “Not so far away.”

  And the moment passes.

  “Okay, you’re making fun of me,” she sighs. “Again.”

  But I’m not, I’m really not.

  “No, sweetheart, it’s all good. I really am up the street.”

  I can almost hear her roll her eyes.

  “What are you doing?” she says, switching topics abruptly.

  Hmm, what am I doing? Thinking of you, sweetheart, what else? But my lips form another answer.

  “I’m gonna grab lunch,” I say, glancing up at the clock. “And then there’s a meeting at three, another one at four, and shit, another one at five.”

  Yep, that’s how my days go.

  “Well, they start at three,” she says suggestively. “You could come and visit if you want. You did say you’re just up the block.”

  That’s true. I could go to her, and not the other way around.

  “Yeah, sure,” I say, thinking about that luscious form. “I can swing by for a little bit. Maybe we’ll grab some lunch.”

  “Oh really?” she squeals excitedly like a little girl who’s received an unexpected gift. “That’d be awesome Mason. We’re in the middle of decorating, and I’d love to get your opinion on some things.”

  Ugh. Decorating. Really, I’d rather not. But there’s no point in saying the words.

  “I’ll be there shortly,” is my rough promise before ending the call.

  And grabbing my jacket, I stand, striding out into the reception area.

  “Rach, what’s the itinerary for Paris like?”

  My assistant’s head swivels around, a jack plugged into her ear.

  “Mr. Channing!” she says, surprised at seeing my big form appear out of thin air. “Just the regular – private jet into CDG, private car to the venue. You’re there for four days, and then it’s back to New York.”

  Okay, that’s pretty standard.

  “Why, is there something you wanted to do in Paris?” Rachel asks curiously. “I can make arrangements.”

  Shit, there is something I want to do. Or someone, more accurately.

  And like that, the decision’s made.

  “Add a plus one,” are my curt words. “I’m bringing a guest.”

  Rachel’s mouth almost falls open, but then it snaps shut. She’s too professional to show her surprise.

  “Of course,” she nods. “Can I get your guest’s name?”

  And here it comes.

  “Carrie Newman,” is my smooth reply. “The same young lady who accompanied me to the gala last week.”

  Rachel nods, still scribbling onto her pad.

  “Got it,” she says. “One plus one for the Paris trip.”

  And like that, it’s done. On the one hand, it’s no big deal. Other executives bring their wives and girlfriends all the time. You practically need it at some of these functions.
/>
  But there’s a big difference with Carrie. Because she’s not exactly a wife or girlfriend. She’s a sugar baby, the kind rich men pay.

  Shit.

  What am I doing?

  Am I really thinking of bringing her to Paris?

  Fuck.

  But it feels right, and shrugging my shoulders, I go with it.

  Because I’ve learned to trust my instincts. Two decades ago, the decision was made. I was marrying my career. So women to me are mistresses only, my one true attachment the Channing empire. Obviously, boundaries are needed. You can’t have your mistress busting in while you’re with your wife. And as a result, the sugar baby set-up is perfect. The females need money, I want sex on call, so it’s a match made in heaven.

  Typically, I pay an allowance, drill a girl once or twice a week, and go on about my business. There’s never been cuddles or even conversation. But now I’m considering going on vacation with Carrie. That means a full five days in her presence, that sweet form lying against mine, her beautiful sighs filling my nights.

  Shit.

  I don’t even know who I am anymore.

  She’s just so perfect.

  So sweet and sincere, without a mean bone in her body.

  What are the chances?

  Against all odds, I found an amazing woman on a mercenary site like Sugar Babiez.

  None of it makes sense, but sometimes, you just gotta roll with it. Like I said, I’ve learned to trust my instincts. Too much thinking will fuck up a good thing, and right now, I’m ready to take it up a notch. Carrie deserves to be on my arm. She deserves more than that. She deserves everything.

  Thoughts racing, I step into the apartment.

  And shit, but a tempting sight greets my eyes. Holding her index finger to her mouth, my sweet brunette’s lost in concentration, poking her hip out while looking over two swatches of cloth.

  Tiny jean shorts hug her curves perfectly, and her breasts look practically edible. But then the brunette looks up, and time stops.

  Literally stops.

  Our eyes meet and everything else disappears.

  “Hi,” she greets me melodically. I’m not sure that anyone else can hear the words but me.

  But shit, there are other people here. Gina the realtor for one. Interior designers. Nicole.