Page 38 of Sugar Baby
Sugar
Asoft knock at the bedroom door forces my eyes open. I’m snuggled up in my nest of pillows and blankets on the floor by the open window. I need the air because I still feel on the verge of an asthma attack. I reach for the inhaler, making sure it’s within sight, just in case. I think it’s been two days since my heat blew up, but I think it’s dying down again.
I don’t bother to answer because I’m still locked in, so whoever it is will open it anyway and come inside.
Unsurprisingly, it’s Trent. His sweet face pops around the door after he opens it a crack. “Can I come in?”
“You here for a bonk?”
He snorts and shakes his head. “Not unless you’re up for one?”
“I think I'm okay right now.”
He has been the best alpha in the world, servicing me numerous times a day during my heat. My uncle has stayed well clear. I don’t know if he knows or suspects about Trent and me, but if he does, I wouldn’t know.
“You’re coming out of your heat already,” Trent says, closing the door behind him.
“I know. I don’t feel so knot-ravenous. I thought it would last longer, though.”
He shrugs. “Not an expert. My rut is fading. My body is reacting to yours, I think. Uhm, can we talk?”
Blinking slowly, I don’t answer right away. I’ve never been dumped before, mostly because I’ve never been in a proper relationship before, but I watch TV, and those words are never a good sign. He is here to tell me that the sex was great, but I’m not the omega for him.
I’m not sure how I feel about that.
My primary emotion is embarrassment because I’m wearing his black t-shirt from the other day. I needed it on me to breathe in his scent, and now I feel like a fucking idiot. I shove my hair out of my face and sit up.
“Sure,” I murmur, eventually.
He strides over to stare out of the window, his hands behind his back. “I have to go away,” he states suddenly. “It will be for a week or so, depending. But there are some things I need clarity on before I go. We should’ve had this conversation before, but we got swept up, and then it was too late, but now I need to say the words. Are you worried you might be pregnant?”
He doesn’t look at me, which makes me feel horrible. Dirty and slightly used.
“Worried? No, not at all,” I say steadily. “I wasn’t even sure I would ever have a heat, let alone have children. This is all brand new, and the thought of conceiving a baby doesn’t make me worried. It makes me happy. I’m not saying that you need to be involved if it comes to that if that’s whatyou’reworried about.” My tone has gone icy.
He hears it and acknowledges it with a sad smile.
“That’s not what I’m worried about. I’m concerned about you. My job is one that takes me away often and for extended periods sometimes. I feel like I have let you down by being a complete prick about this. I’m sorry. Mating and babies weren’t on my agenda…”
“Then leave,” I interrupt him before he can make me feel any worse than he already has. Tears prick my eyes as I’d hoped we could continue to see each other after this, but I’m a big girl. I knew what I was doing when I leapt at him. I didn’t bring any of this up, either.
His expression turns desperate. “No, Sugar, I don’t want to leave, not like this. Hear me out, please?”
I glare at him to continue, crossing my arms tightly.
“We can both agree that we got caught up in the heat and rut. I don’t regret that at all. If anything, it has made me want to re-evaluate things, but what I’m trying to get out, badly, I’ll admit, is that firstly, I’m sorry I didn’t consider your feelings about a pregnancy before we slept together, and secondly that if you do become pregnant, then I’ll be happy about it. Even if you don’t, I want us to spend time together, to get to know each other without the frenzy of the heat. Would you like that?” His tentative question catches me off-guard.
This whole conversation has left me feeling confused and slightly shaky.
“You want to date?” I ask.
He nods slowly as if he isn’t quite sure about that.
“Okay,” I say anyway because I don't know what elsetosay.
“I’ve fucked this up, haven’t I?” he asks after a few seconds.
“Little bit,” I murmur.
