Page 20 of His Sugar Baby


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My phone rings, I answer to find my staff is unable to handle the bug issue on their own. I have to go into the office. I hate going into my office. I hit the intercom to let Alice know, and ask her to tell Anne for me. She tells me that Anne is taking a nap. She’ll tell Anne when she wakes up.

Opening the door to the bedroom, the plan is to grab some shoes and head for the door. It’s the plan, until I see her. My body takes me to the bed. Fuck, she’s beautiful. She’s deep in sleep with the covers tucked under her small chin. I pull back the covers, needing to see more of her.

My cock aches, her body is a wet dream, full heavy breasts tipped with sweet pink nipples that are extremely responsive. I love the curve of her stomach, love how soft she felt against me. Fighting the urge to touch her, I stare at her bare, sweet, sweet pussy that I can still taste on my tongue. She fit me in a way no one ever has. Never have I wanted to sink inside a woman and never leave, with Anne it’s all I want.

This morning I truly lost track of time while I was inside her. The feel of the wet silk of her shockingly tight pussy around my cock was a heaven I never wanted to stop. Watching her, hearing her breathy little sighs as I moved inside her made it obvious she was feeling the same way. I hadn’t lied this morning, her body is addictive, like nothing I’ve ever known.

After so many women I’ve lost track, and after so many years, it’s something I’m still trying to wrap my head around. I know Anne feels the same, knew it in the way her body shook at my touch.

It shocked her, the way she responded to me. I could see it in her eyes, every emotion was clear in them. I love how she hadn’t allowed it to inhibit her. She was giving herself freely to me. Anne isn’t holding anything back, and that’s as erotic as her body.

The moment in the closet when she had pleaded to watch me jack off. Her eyes fixed on my cock, the way she squirmed on the counter. I don’t know how I held off coming as long as I did. Then she almost sent me to my knees when she stuck her hand down my jeans. Her touch was gentle as she explored me. Touching me turned her on, her breasts swelling and heavy her nipples turning into thick cherries she pressed against my chest. After the men in her past, how was she so taken with my cock? How was it as if it were the first cock she ever had? I’ll find out soon. For now, she’ll get all of my cock she wants, any way she wants it.

“Are you just going to look? You know you can touch.” Anne’s voice is soft in the room as she parts her legs in invitation.

“I can smell your pussy, sweetheart, you want me to touch you.” She nods, opening her legs wider and moans my name. “I can’t. I have to go to work. If I touch you I won’t make it out of this room.”

Her sleepy eyes go from light grey to cloud filled instantly, as she closes her legs. She whispers, “Okay.”

“I can’t touch you but I want to watch you touch yourself. Open your legs wide for me to see your pussy.” Her nipples harden at my words. She opens her legs. “Come for me, sweetheart. I want to watch you come.”

Her hand covers her pussy. She takes a breath so deep her breasts sway. Her middle finger slides down the lips that are glistening with her need. Up and down her finger runs, before slipping inside with a moan.

“That’s not enough, sweetheart. I want you to tell me. What are you thinking about? What makes you wet and come, tell me.” She blushes. “Anything, anyone, I want to know.” My jaw clenches at what I have opened myself up to.

“You, you make me wet when you look at me as if you want to devour me. As if you can’t wait to fuck me on the nearest flat surface. No one has ever looked at me like that before, it makes me want to be devoured.” Her fingers disappear deep inside her until she’s panting.

“I want you to take me, bend me over and fuck me from behind, deep, so deep all I know is the feel of you inside me.” Her free hand comes up to her breast rolling and tugging at the tight nub. She moans, her eyes flutter closed.

“Look at me, Anne.” Her moan comes from deep inside her as our eyes meet. “Good girl. Now come, sweetheart, come for me.”

Her whole body tenses as I see her fingers move faster inside her, and then she’s moaning my name as all the air leaves her lungs. She gives in to the need of her body and her eyes close. Her body shudders, her tight nipples sway with the movement that overtakes her. Her sleepy sigh of my name makes me so hard I ache.

How I keep from coming myself simply from watching her, I have no idea. Nothing I’ve seen compares to watching her. My phone rings, pulling us both from the hazy moment. Fuck.

Pulling the covers back over her I let them fall. “Now that you’ve turned my cock to stone, I’m off to the office. I have no idea how long I’ll be, but I will be home tonight in time to tuck you into bed.”

I leave before I can’t.

The office is a fucking mess. My secretary, Glenda, has been with me from the start here in Chicago, going on fifteen years now. She does what she can, but she manages paperwork not people. Terry Shaunessy, the man I picked to run the day to day operations of my company is making me regret my two year old decision. Although mine is a billion dollar company, it’s a small one. For what I do it doesn’t need to be bigger.

I write programs and software. My stuff does everything from pinpointing the spread of disease in a city to writing an insurance policy. While I spend my days writing code, I write at a broad level. My employees write the code to build around the core I’ve written. Basically, they make it pretty.

I made my first million selling, in my eyes at sixteen, the neatest thing I’d ever made; it was designed to discover patterns for recurrent illnesses. I sold it to a medical company for one million three hundred thousand dollars and I soared high for weeks. Believing it was going to something for a good reason, I learned later they used it to figure out how to market to men with erectile dysfunction and that brought me down to earth with a thump.

It pissed me off, causing me to decide to be more informed of how my software was being used. While noble it was ultimately a self-defeating exercise. After years of frustration, I just write the backbone and leave it to m

y programmers to clean up the code and make it presentable. What happens to it when I am done isn’t something I can think about.

My company is comprised of seventy programmers working different projects, then running beta testing. There were usually about three, but I’ve gotten as large as having five projects at a time. I have a small inhouse team to measure goals, package a complete product, and then find buyers. The admin staff only totals ten or so, depending on any given project. We have the whole floor and only use about half for cubicles that are much larger than the norm, per staff demands I was more than happy to agree to. The remaining floor houses a break room with two of every small appliance known to man, free snacks—of them healthy, most of them not. There’s also an air hockey table, pool table, and three arcade games that revolve once a quarter.

Eyes rolled at the demands and suggestions of the air hockey table, and all the other extras but it worked. My programmers were happy and turnover was so low I only have three people for human resources. Having to be at the office meant Terry had pissed off most of my programmers. They were now saying fuck it and playing World of Warcraft rather than trying to figure out where the supposed bug was, and how to fix it. In the last two years, this was the second time Terry had pushed my programmers past their point of willing to deal. It’s also the last time.

Walking into the office on the twentieth floor of a building on Van Buren, I’m met by Terry. He’s talking as he walks toward me, I don’t hear a word.

“You’re fired, get your shit. You aren’t cut out to manage a fucking boy scout group. Your last check will be mailed, don’t put me down as a reference if you want a job. Security is on the next elevator up.”

Glenda hands me files before I ask. It’s exactly what I want. A file of my top five programmers who would make a good replacement for Terry. I’m still pissed at the person Terry had to replace. I pick up the phone to tell her that. She answers on the second ring.

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