Page 39 of His Sugar Baby


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I’m woken up by Grant’s kiss on my temple as he says my name. “Hey, sleepyhead. I’m going to order some much needed dinner from downstairs, any requests?”

“Mmm...” I run a hand over his cheek, needing to touch him. “Steak and a baked potato and something green, a salad we can share.”

“Sounds good, the bath is running. Go have a soak. I’ll come and get you when the food gets here.”

“Okay.”

While we eat, Grant is careful to steer the conversation away from what he said. Instead, he focuses on the campus visit. “You’ve had the tour. You talked to everyone there was to talk to. What are you thinking about for your next career?”

I throw a fry I’ve stolen at him. “I love how you ask as if you already didn’t know. If I can make it work, then yes. I want to do photography.

“Kenny, the guy you were giving killing glares to and who is gay, by the way, talked about how he creates covers for all these independent authors. He said he can barely keep up with the demand. Right now, he has a few models he works with and is trying to get more. He’s created his own set of stock photos of models to use for the covers but he’s already running through them.

“The more we got to talking the more I was thinking about the stock photo websites you were talking about and thinking about making one of my own. Kenny said there’s a niche he had overlooked when he did his first stock photos, covers with plus sized women like me. He was crazy enough to ask me if I would be a model at the next shoot he’s planning at the end of the month.”

“Well, you sure as fuck aren’t doing any modeling. I’m not having you posing for some guy half-naked. I don’t care if he’s gay or not, he was staring at your breasts like he wasn’t. I think it’s a great idea. You’ll be creating a steady income stream with the site. You can still spend time shooting the city and who knows, maybe more.

“You spent a lot more time in the women’s center than I thought you would. Was there something there that interested you?”

I shrug. I’m still surprised, myself, at the thoughts I had in the center. “It was all fascinating, the way they want to educate women and help women. The way they talked about the advances they’ve made helping women with fertility problems. I... it was the first time I wondered about maybe one day having another baby.”

Wondering if I made a mistake admitting it, the look on his face has me exhaling in relief. After Thomas died I believed I would never have another child. In my mind, I was unwilling to replace Thomas with another. Then gradually, as I lived a normal life, hearing my co-workers brag, complain, a

nd moan, about their children, I envied them. Yet, not once had I considered or wondered about having another baby until today. When I thought about it I imagined the baby a miniature of Grant.

Smiling widely, his eyes glowing. Grant picks me up, setting me down on the kitchen table, pulling off the shirt he had put on me when I got out of the bath. A hand runs over my stomach, “I want that, a baby, our baby. You and me, I want that very badly.”

His words thrill me. Even as he’s entering me I’m already close to orgasm at the idea. It’s clear I’m not the only one, as Grant doesn’t take nearly as long as he usually does before sending us both over the edge into our climax.

The rest of the day is spent in a sleepy haze of making love. We end the night in a bath together, before going back to bed. I’m very sore, but happily so, I assure him. Grant wraps me in his arms, pressing a kiss to my temple he whispers, “I love you, sweetheart.”

Unlike earlier today, the words don’t scare me. They comfort me as I fall asleep in his arms.

Over the next two weeks Grant and I explore every inch of Chicago together. He tells me he loves me often. Sometimes he says it with a laugh as I surprise him, other times it’s casual when he kisses me before heading into his office, or I leave the house. He says it most often when he’s making love to me. I can tell the difference now, between the very lust-filled fucking we did in the beginning and the way he touches me now.

One night I whisper I miss being fucked and Grant delivers in spectacular fashion. Then as I cling to him, listening to the pounding of his heart, he whispers he loves me and I answer him with a kiss to his pounding heart.

Our visit to the School of the Art Institute is everything I thought it would be, down to our first argument since the Northwestern visit. “I don’t want you paying my tuition. It should really go without saying.”

“No, it doesn’t go without saying. I’ve said it before, this is another way of taking care of you. If it means covering tuition for school then that’s what it means.”

“This is different. Who knows if I’ll even get in. The guy couldn’t have made it clearer he thought I was wasting his time. Okay, fine, I should have maybe known what a book was but not every single person knows what a damned book is. What if he takes a look at my book and thinks it’s crap?”

I land on the oversized fluffy chair with a thump. In time to see a look ripple across Grant’s face before it’s gone. I’m up again in a flash. “What did you do?” He shakes his head as he tries to walk away. I block his way out of the room. “Grant, tell me what you did.”

His hand runs through his hair. Oh fuck, I’m not going to like this. “You’ve already been admitted into the program. I wrote a check, it’s done.”

“You wrote a check?” Fighting the desire to start screaming I want all the facts before I lose it.

“The same way I wrote a check to Northwestern for the visit and Connie pointing us to Norman. It went to the women’s center by the way. I would have written a bigger check to ensure you got in.

“I wrote a check when I made the appointment three days ago, it’s already cashed. Don’t, don’t make this bigger than it is. This is the way things happen. Do you seriously think all those rich kids have what it takes to get into Harvard or Yale? Fuck no, their fathers cut a check and buy a new library or swimming pool or whatever it takes to get their precious where they want to go.”

Even as I don’t want to know I ask. “How much? How big was the check for?”

Grant shakes his head. “I’m not telling you because it doesn’t matter. If they had wanted twice what I wrote it for I wouldn’t have blinked. This is about making sure you have everything you need to succeed. If you need to go to the school to get the skills you need to become the best, then it’s what you’re going to get.”

“But I didn’t earn my place there. Oh, no wait, I did. I earned it by giving you the best blow job you’ve ever had.” As last words go I’m not proud of them. I move to find a room to hide in until I can make sense of all the crazy emotions I’m feeling.

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