All Chapters of BEE Sugar Baby: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

My wardrobe is stocked with different types of clothes, already being categorised accordingly by Drey to ease me in choosing one without getting confused. Casual wear-home, casual wear-dates, casual wear-family, casual wear-friends, oh God how many categories are there for casual wear alone? Then there are nightgowns, workwear, brunch dresses, lunch dresses, tea dresses, dinner dresses, Goddd there are so many categories I'm beginning to wonder how committed Drey is with his job for being thisss particular, on top of the extensive training he put me on for two months straight. Today is my first weekend with Honey, and if my memory serves, we're going to have a picnic later. I'm not sure when will it be but for now, I need to worry on what to wear between his coffee at 7 and brunch at 11- assuming we're really having a picnic brunch later- so what should I wear when I'm home with him? Yeah yeah, I have this entire section dedicated for ‘casual wear-home’ but which one should I choo

First weekend was a success. Though all we did was build that ridiculously huge Lego set and eat take-out. We stayed up until 5am and the next morning when I prepared him coffee at 7, he didn't even come down. He could've told me he'll be sleeping in, hmph. I took my revenge by cooking myself a big breakfast. Not those lame fruits but eggs in three ways; scrambled, omelette, and deviled. As if I hadn't rebelled enough, I drank a cup of coffee and went back to sleep until late afternoon. When I came down around 3, he was sitting at the same spot where we built the lego yesterday, dealing with some that we couldn't managed to finish. It's compelling, really, to watch him so immersed in building those. We ordered another take out for what seemed to be late-lunch-cum-early-dinner, and continued building that thing until around 10 when we finally go to bed feeling accomplished seeing that majestic Lego set sitting proudly next to the couch. The next five days was pretty boring as I go

[ Where's my I love you 😡🤬 ]He calls me immediately once I shot that petty message. A rumble of deep laughter fills the speaker, "I love you B." I grin, "Okay now you can go." Also, were you mad when I said no to your proposal? I'm sure if I'm not as religious as I am -and I really ain't that religious- I would've said yes to that. He's sexy, he's nice, and I'm truly comfortable being with him. I would've said yes. But yeah, I'm not willing to sacrifice my belief. God forbids sex before marriage so no, I choose to please Him than him. The call ends with another I-love-you, and a promise he'd knock on my door once he's home to claim his goodnight kiss. "Hey." I answer Drey's videocall after ordering Uber Eat for dinner."Collins told me about your little meeting today." He looks at me smugly, perhaps for being able to get that info as fast as this. "And...?" I ask as I release my hair from the bun. "Why won't you?" I totally get what he meant but I'm just gonna drag him fur

"I think you don't get it." I can't believe she's even willing to come to my office building just to discuss about the same old thing. We're sitting at a nearby cafe during my lunch break after I told her I can't go to her office this week, made up an excuse about work and deadlines. There's no way in my sane mind I'm going there to discuss about having sex out of marriage. "I do," she looks at me in pity, "I really do. And I think he does too. That's why he did what he did." "What do you mean? What did he do?""You told me the price was a real marriage." Nooo she did not tell him that. Is that why he was all weird at Paris yesterday? "No no no, I don't think you guys really get it. I didn't say real marriage, YOU concluded that. For God sake, even if what you concluded was right, there is no way we can have real marriage. I'm a Muslim. I need Islamic marriage more than real marriage. Doesn't matter if he's willing to register the marriage at the court house, I don't care about i

"If I kiss you," he whispers when his lips are still attached to my head, "I don't think I'll be able to stop." ...but he's kissing me right now, isn't he? I'm trying to fool myself but who am I kidding, lame dirty jokes are my muse. So I understand exactly what he meant by the last words. "We have a dinner to get to," he continues in his normal voice while creating a tiny space between us. I can feel the thick tension in the air and pray for the elevator to be here, to which God answers my prayer. And just like that I step into it as he follows me inside. I don't think I'll be able to get those words off my mind the entire night, because it keeps being replayed like a broken record- If I kiss you, I don't think I'll be able to stop. If I kiss you. Kiss you. You... don't think. Able to stop. Able...to stop. Kiss. Stop. Able. Able to kiss. Stop. Stop kiss. Able. Stop. Kiss. "Fuck it," he groans as he appears in front of me, tilting my chin so I'd meet his face. Before my mind can