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Salty Sugar Baby 113
When I first came to Maison de Verdue last year, on the day I reported duty as a sugar baby, I had to give the security guard my license for registration and verification. But on the following visits, I didn’t have to do it simply because the car he gave me was already in the list along with a sticker pasted on the front windscreen that would instantly grant me access into the building. After I returned him the car, and I started coming here as a friend with my own car, despite my plat number being on his list of approved visitors, I complained about the hassle of having to hand out my licence to the security guard for verification. He immediately got me a sticker that eased my visits because I then was able to go in and out of the building without having to roll down my driver’s window all the time. Fast forward to the first day I drove here three weeks ago after our official separation, I was surprised despite seeing it coming; my car plat number had been removed from the list of
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I remain at the same spot for some time until I'm absolutely sure he's not coming back. For all the visits I’ve done this past three weeks, it never crossed my mind that one day I would meet him this way. I never thought he’d step foot at this visitor parking space because all his designated parking spots are at another floor, there’s no reason for him to be here so it puzzles me greatly, why was he here then? Did he… know I am here tonight? If not, why did he stand in front of my car that is parked at this corner which is quite far from the entrance to the elevator? It can’t be a coincidence that he was picking up a visitor, he could’ve just waited by the door instead of going all the way to the right, towards the end where my visitor parking was assigned. Trying to calm myself with this disturbing hypothesis, I take a deep breath and decide to stay here for a few more minutes. I need to get rid of this overwhelm feelings, it’s too dangerous to drive home when I can’t seem to focu
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You know what they say, fake it till you make it. I'm lucky he didn't see my surprised face to discover there's a possibility he knows about her. Because for all we know, he could be talking about someone else. Perhaps it's my sister, or my Mom, or even Abby. Maybe he's asking about one of them since today is Thanksgiving Day. You know, Thanksgiving equals family so. "She's good," I grab my handbag and the car key before turning around, forcing myself to act all calm and composed, as if we're indeed talking about Emma/Mom/Abby."Uhmmm," I glance at the watch on my wrist, subtly dropping a hint on how late it is, "I should really go. If you can tap the elevator for me-""You can stay here if you want." That recommendation got my attention as I stop fiddling with the car key that's in my hand, quickly raising my gaze to look at the beautiful face. "It's okay," I grin awkwardly, "I'll just head home."I've been stupid enough to do all sorts of things like sending the text messages and
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I let go of the sleeves while shaking my head, "I'm good." I'll stick with the one I'm wearing because it's not the top I'm looking for, but something to replace this annoyingly loose sweatpants. It's unbelievable how big this man is that even my widening waist is smaller than his pants' waistband. "Come on then, it's already 1. You shouldn't be sleeping this late. Wouldn't want your bad sleeping habit to affect her growth."He never complained about the time I go to bed, suddenly he's becoming territorial because of her? And please, you'll be surprised at how late I sleep these days, all because of your sweet baby girl who thinks it's gym time when 11pm hits, only stopping around 1 to 2am. As of tonight, she stops early, perhaps because she can sense his difficult father is around. Alright, let's call it a night then. I'll stop and get some sleep too, okay. I walk out of the walk-in closet and when I reach at the door frame near the spot he was standing at, he instantly joins m
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"Let's have breakfast, Baby." It’s like I’m dealing with Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde when he suddenly switch from giving that glare and uttered those hurtful words in such sharp tone, into this gentleman, the invitation was softly spoken as if he’s being careful not to break his Baby. "What would you like?” He asks in what seems like a whisper right after kneeling in front of me, directly facing my bump, “Pancakes? Waffles? French toast?”Placing a palm on one side of the bump, he continues asking my stomach, “Or a steak?" then proceeds to chuckle at his own joke. I can’t help but to smile at this silliness because that was indeed a very bad joke but the way he tried to crack one with my tummy, it’s like watching a psychiatric patient talking to a wall.“Come on, let’s go downstairs. I’ll make it a surprise.”He stands up and towers over me, the smiley face is gone the moment he looks at me. Huh, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde indeed. Who knew I’d be living in a famous storybook at the age of 33.
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"You don't need to stab it further, the pig is already dead." He says nonchalantly seeing my fork keeps jabbing at the bacon without actually eating it. I roll my eyes and bring it to my mouth, "It should be the other pig who's dead, not this one."There's a slight twitch at the corner of his lips, acknowledging my statement. But then he continues eating the big breakfast on his plate while I resume playing with my food, not really having an appetite after spending an hour in the morning quarrelling with a pig. Half an hour later, while I'm still moving the food around the plate, the bell rings signalling there's somebody at the door. He stops sipping on the coffee from his mug and stands up, "Finish your breakfast," warning me once again before heading to the entrance. I watch his firm ass juggles with each confident stride, at the same time appreciating his muscled back, somewhat baffled at how confident he is to open the door in that barely-dressed state. But again, if I have a
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I’ve been half-awake for quite some time; refusing to open my eyes eventhough I’m no longer sleeping. Lying on my right side, hugging a pillow close to my chest, a blanket covering my body up to my neck, I don’t think I’ll ever get up because this is a very comfortable position. What’s better is when she kicks, the palm that is resting on my baby bump would immediately rub the spot as to tone down the movement, telling her to take it easy. She would stop for a while, then kicks again, and the same thing repeats itself. I’m not sure how long did I nap but like I said, I’m not going to wake up anytime sooner, simply because I don’t really have anything going on today. For all I care, I can lie on this bed until tomorrow comes. Suddenly I hear a vibration sound that I’m pretty sure originated from his phone because a second later, the palm leaves my body as his deep voice answers the call, “Hmm.” As soon as he takes the palm, another one lands on the spot he left earlier. I’m guessi
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"I'm going back tomorrow night." Let's just say I have accepted my fate about having to spend this long weekend with baby daddy so this is a heads up- he has another thirty hours to make the best of it before I go back to civilisation, where people understands what free-will is and actually respects it. "How about I send you home tomorrow morning?”“Eh?” My head snaps right at him upon hearing the suggestion, verifying if the person in the driver seat next to me is indeed Luca Sinclair, the possessive, super duper territorial Daddy-to-be. “Take what you need, I’ll send the movers to get the rest.”Okay that’s more like it, definitely the intolerable Luca Sinclair talking. Wait, WHAT? ‘I’ll send the movers to get the rest’ ? Is he toying with me? See how far he can push me before I lose my patience and finally have my palm does the justice by touching his cheek, hard? “You're moving in with me." He states without even looking at me eventhough I’ve been sta
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