Chapter 4
Zachary
Sunday
Ablack luxury car pulls up to my place and my heart surges with excitement. The door opens and Emilie appears. I quickly step up to her, offering my hand, which she takes as she delicately steps out of the vehicle.
She’s so beautiful.
Her pink strawberry sweater is cut low, revealing the swell of her full breasts. Her shiny brown hair drapes down the middle of her back. Tonight, she’s wearing a short white skirt with pink stockings that lead down to pink stilettos so high, I almost don’t have to lean down to kiss her. Almost.
Work has been stressful this week. Meetings with lawyers and budget analysts asking me to review spreadsheets I have no interest in. Now that she’s here, though, that all fades away.
I wrap my arms around her and those omega pheromones hit my brain like electricity before relaxing every part of me. Sure, any omega would probably have that effect on most alphas, but with her, it’s different. She does something to my soul.
I don’t even kiss her right away. I just bury my nose into her temple and breathe deep, wondering for the thousandth time what her real scent is. Ignoring that irritating voice in the back of my head telling me I might never know.
Emilie has made it quite clear that she loves her job as a sugar baby and I’ll take as little or as much of her as she’ll give me.
Sunday nights are always my favorite, but there never seems to be enough time with her.
I kiss her forehead and she lets out a happy sigh, leaning into my touch.
I break away, giving enough space for her soft lips to find mine.
Fireworks go off in my chest at her taste, her essence.
She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer.
I like to imagine that she feels what I do about us, but I know what this is.
Still, it’s easier to pretend.
We step back for a breath and I slip her hand into mine as we pass through the lobby. The gothic-inspired architecture of the building is a stunning sight and she loves gazing up at the details while we head to my penthouse. The elevator door closes behind us after I swipe my fob.
She wears less makeup than she normally does. There’s a tiredness to her eyes, like she hasn’t slept well this weekend.
“Hey, are you alright?” I ask, hoping nothing is wrong that I can’t fix.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Her smile is pleasant but not genuine. I recognize what it is, let’s not talk about it or worry about me. Not exactly something I’m able to do, but if she doesn’t want to open up, then I’m not going to press it. Yet.
“I’ve already scheduled our dinner delivery, it should be here by eight.”
She hums with appreciation. “Sounds perfect, thank you.”
“Plenty of time for fun.”
She wiggles her eyebrows. “What type of fun?”
“Well, it’s going to take both of us.”
“Yeah?” She steps into my arms, playing along with me.
“It’s gonna be hard,” I say, kissing her cheek.
“Ooooh.”
“And big,” I whisper, kissing her neck.
“Just the way I like it.”
“It will take all night.”
“It better,” she says with a breathy sigh.
“It’s a dragon.” I trail my nose to her ear.
“Baby, don’t I know it,” she coos.
“We need to get to the sanctum and fight the dragon to get to the amulet so I can boost my spell casting, ’cause everyone in our party keeps dying.”
Emilie lets out a dramatic and over-the-top fake moan that echoes around us before she joins me in a burst of laughter.
When our amusement finally ends, I ask, “How was your weekend?”
She’s always vague about how she spends her time.
“It was good, tried a new restaurant, got some shopping done. So what’s this surprise you have for me?
” she asks, more like herself this time, bouncing a little on her feet, and I’m thankful that whatever troubles she’s brought to the door, she can leave them there.
A little laugh escapes me. “You’ll see very soon.”
She fakes a pout for a moment but then says, “How was work this week for you?”
“Good. Very good. I’m working on a collaboration I’m very excited about.
My company is in charge of an app that we anticipate having millions of users within the first month and projected steady growth from there.
We’re working on the last few bugs. The launch will happen in a few weeks if all goes according to plan. ”
Before I can tell her about my closest friends and the pack we are starting, the elevator door opens right into my living room.
My home is a mix of modern and classic decor.
I have a fair amount of cat-safe plants that work well with the dark wood of the massive bookshelf that frames the large TV and the hardwood floors.
Bronze accents on the table and picture frames tie the place together.
I love the large windows that give us great views of the city.
Dreamsicle screams for attention the second Emilie walks in, who immediately picks him up like a baby. She rocks him while giving him chin scratches, telling him what a good boy he is.
Lucky cat.
I didn’t name the chunky orange guy that. Personally, I think it’s a very silly name for a cat, but he was surrendered to the shelter after his elderly owner passed away, and I didn’t have the heart to change it since he had already gone through so much.
So Dreamsicle stuck.
I lead her back into the second largest bedroom, which I have converted into a gaming room and office.
A large TV is on one end with a green velvet L-shaped couch in front of it.
Behind that is my massive gaming setup. Multiple screens, the best office entertainment chair money can buy.
Before this weekend, the long desk was in the middle of the wall, but I moved it over to make room for her gift.
“Zachary!” she exclaims.
She now has an identical desk and setup as I do. While mine is matte black, hers is white and pink, matching the chair. There’s a desk in between us, going out towards the TV, so we have a place to eat or put drinks safely away from our electronics.
“Now we can play together and you don’t have to use your laptop.”
Above her new computer and second monitor, I framed a few of my photos of us when I’ve taken her on business trips to Seoul and London, along with some prints by an artist I know she loves.
Some painter named Harper. There’s even a tiny shelf where I picked up a few new novels from my favorite local independent bookstore I know she will like.
A bouquet of red roses sits at the end of the desk, next to an electric kettle with an assortment of imported teas.
I pull her close. “I know we only spend one night a week together, but I wanted to give you a special gift since we have been seeing each other for a year.”
“That is incredibly thoughtful, thank you.” Her lips are on mine and I’m greedy for her kiss until she pulls away, taking me with her to the desk.
She sits in the chair and puts on the puffy headphones with little wings above the ears.
Damn, she’s so cute. I’d been thinking of this for a while, hoping she would want to come over more, or stay longer.
I have a recurring fantasy that she wants to have her heat here.
That I take care of her and we recover in this room, relaxing and having fun while she heals.
The place came with a small nest, but it’s been empty this whole time.
Maybe one day it won’t be. I need for her to see me as more than just a client for that to happen.
She sets up her desk how she wants, adjusting the chair and screen placement before logging into the game we love to play together. It’s a role-playing game set in the universe of Dungeons & Dragons, where we get to shape the story.
We play for a few hours until dinner arrives, enjoying pad see ew, panang curry with braised beef, pad thai, cashew chicken, and ending the meal with mango sticky rice. After we take our dishes to the sink and wash our hands, she leads me back to our room.
Just her presence here calms me. The stress of work fades away, until it’s only her and I.
I want her here every day, to be able to touch her and kiss her at any moment.
It keeps me up at night that I don’t know where she lives.
If she needed something, I couldn’t find her.
If something ever were to go wrong, I couldn’t protect her.
She’s the only sugar baby and omega I’ve ever been with.
I thought it was going to be a simple transactional relationship, but she has this warmth to her, and I’ve never once felt like a client.
It always felt real and special—almost magical in a way I can’t explain.
Scent matches are rare, and yet I can’t help wondering if we are one. Would it be strange to pay her to get off her scent blockers? Even if we aren’t, I have a desperate need to know her real scent.
I expect her to go back to her desk so we can continue our campaign, but she has me sit down in my chair while she perches on my desk, slightly above me.
Excitement floods me. I love when she’s so close. My heart stops when she slowly opens her legs to reveal she wasn’t wearing anything underneath that skirt all night, exposing her silky pink center.
That’s the thing about sugar babies, sex or physical contact of any kind is never a requirement or guarantee. Her time is exchanged for money, but sugar babies make it very clear sex is only offered out of pure desire for the alpha. Knowing she wants me as bad as I want her is intoxicating.
I slide my chair towards her, pulling her into my lap.
She unbuttons her fuzzy sweater until her perfect breasts are free.
It's the dessert I needed. I cup one while I take the light-brown bud to my lips and suck. Swirling my tongue around her perfect point, my left hand lightly pinches the other peak. My dick throbs in my pants, but I need to focus on her. She arches into me, the happy noises she makes like music to me. She grinds against my hardness and I’ll wear that wet spot she’s making like a badge of honor.