Sugaring the Billionaire

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I kept my brother's nearly bankrupt, dirt-poor driver as a sugar baby.

He was dead broke, but he had a flawless V-taper physique and a premium ass right out of Chris Evans' playbook. Quiet, he looked like a high-fashion underwear model. In action, he was a relentless beast.

The only downside was his vanity. He constantly bought knock-off luxury goodsthe kind where the authentic versions cost millions.

One day, while I was tying him to the headboard with a Hermes silk scarf for a little dominance game to teach him a lesson, my phone buzzed. It was my brother.

"I thought you were gonna sugar my driver. Why haven't you come to find him?"

I froze.

Then who the hell was the guy I was riding right now?

Chapter 1

My brother, Gunner, struck it rich overnight, going from making viral TikTok dances to being a straight-up nouveau riche millionaire.

Riding his coattails, I crashed the elite socialite circles of New York.

But those old-money plastic bitches constantly mocked me. They said I dressed like a backwoods hillbilly, and that I didn't even have the guts to feel up a ripped guy's abs at an exclusive male strip club.

Furious, I swore I'd find a man whose package put all those strippers to shame and blow everyone's minds.

When I brought it up, Gunner offered his brilliant advice. "Just go for my driver. I caught a glimpse in the restroom once. His size is absolute monster-tier."

If Gunner said it was monster-tier, it was the real deal.

After all, back in our Texas trailer park, the experienced girls all called Gunner "The Anaconda."

Desperate to salvage my reputation, I immediately rushed over to Gunner's company to find this legendary driver.

The second I stepped into the parking garage, my eyes locked onto a top-tier hottie with broad shoulders and miles of legs, leaning against a luxury car.

A well-dressed woman stood right in front of him, crying and tugging at his clothes. "Pierce, it's just adding a girl's number! Why are you resisting this so much?"

Pierce?

That was Gunner's driver!

Gunner had told me Pierce grew up in a violent, poverty-stricken ghetto. His dad was a hardcore junkie, and his mom actually forced him to strip for rich old ladies to pay off their loan shark debts.

Sure enough, I heard Pierce reply coldly. "I said no. I have zero interest in that kind of transaction."

"You're going to drive me to an early grave!" His mother's fists drummed relentlessly against his chest.

My temper flared. Such prime, juicy meathow was I supposed to enjoy him if she bruised him up?

I sprinted over, inserting myself between the hottie and the woman. "Lady, you better stop right there! Now, take this 0-000,000 check and step away from Brynn's man!"

With a sharp flick of my wrist, I slapped the prepared check right onto her outdated Chanel jacket and snapped my fingers, signaling two beefy security guards to escort her out.

His mom was still screaming. "Who dares touch me?! Do you know our family's standing on Wall Street"

I tuned her out. Only the weak resorted to loud, pathetic tantrums.

Having pulled off my flawless boss-babe rescue, I figured Pierce would be melting into a puddle of gratitude right behind me. He'd probably tackle me in a massive bear hug to declare his undying devotion, right?

Turns out, broke men had massive egos.

I spun around, pasting on a bashful, sweet smile, only to slam right into Pierce's icy, sculpted face.

He didn't look touched at all. His thick brows were furrowed, his glare piercing straight through me.

The second our eyes locked, a jolt of electricity zipped down my spine. It tingleda sharp mix of pain and pure thrill.

Suddenly, I understood why those club strippers bored me. Their eyes were too submissive. They killed my desire to conquer.

But him? He looked vicious.

And I was utterly obsessed.

I felt like I could drain him dry until his kidneys gave out.

I cleared my throat, forcing a dignified posture. "Pierce, right? Hi. I'm Gunner's sister."

"Pierce?" His sharp, devastatingly handsome brow dipped. The sheer, suffocating pressure rolling off him made my knees buckle.

What the hell? I was the sugar mommy here! I just dropped a hundred grand!

I tried to puff up my chest, but then my gaze dragged down to his taut, powerful V-taper and that tight, lifted Captain America ass.

My resolve crumbled. I always had a weak spot for a gorgeous face.

"Pierce, you don't have to put up walls around me," I cooed softly. "If you need to cry, just let it out. Seriously. Gunner told me everything about your family situation."

He narrowed his eyes, his gaze freezing over. "What family situation?"

Chapter 2

Ugh, still playing tough.

Watching him force this cool, detached facade, a dull ache tightened my chest at the thought of him secretly crying himself to sleep in the dead of night.

"Didn't your mom just try to force you to give your number to some random woman?" I pressed. "Instead of going to a club to get slept with by crusty old ladies and risking some gross disease, you should just get with me! I'm totally clean, and I can easily polish off a double bacon cheeseburger combo with zero stomach issues. You won't have to be Gunner's driver anymore."

"You you'll just have to take me for a ride in the bedroom. My brother pays you a few grand a month? I'll multiply it. Fifty grand! If being my exclusive sugar baby hurts your pride, we can just tell people we're dating. When our contract is up, you can just say you dumped me."

Honestly, by the time I finished talking, I was practically tearing up at my own generosity.

I wasn't just a sugar mommy; I was Mother Teresa.

But his face only grew colder the longer I spoke. Finally, he just turned around and started to walk away.

That tall, resolute back was identical to the dramatic exit I pulled at flea markets when the vendor wouldn't take my lowball offer.

I knew I was supposed to wait for him to cave and look back first.

But pure thirst steamrolled my logic. I gritted my teeth, lunged forward, and grabbed his hand.

"Eighty grand! Eighty grand, deal? If you walk away now and your mom comes back to harass you, you're on your own!"

At that last threat, his long legs halted.

The sugar contract hadn't even officially started, and my little pet bird was already tugging at my heartstrings.

He slowly turned back around. Long, calloused fingers clamped down on my jaw, tilting my face up as his glacial eyes assessed me.

His gaze was like high-penetration X-rays. So sharp. So vicious. I was absolutely living for it.

My pulse thundered in my ears, my mouth went bone-dry, and a heavy heat pooled in my lower belly.

I swear, if he called me 'baby' right then, I would have slammed him against the wall with bloodshot eyes and signed over my life insurance policy to him.

So this was what true love felt like!

But he only let me ride that high for a brief moment before he dropped his hand. A dark smirk played on his lips as he clicked his tongue. "Deal. Next time my mother shows up to harass me, you handle her."

He agreed!

I immediately whipped out my phone, added his number, and wired the eighty grand sugar fee straight to his account.

His profile picture was infuriatingly gorgeous. He was in a full professional racing suit, leaning casually against a sleek hypercar.

I only needed one glance to know it was Photoshopped.

That specific car was worth tens of millions of dollars. Word on the street was it belonged to the elusive heir of the Zhao financial syndicate that controlled Wall Street.

Gunner had warned me his driver was a decent guy, but incredibly vain, always trying to act like a billionaire.

Sure enough, he didn't instantly accept the eighty grand. He just cast a lazy, indifferent glance at his screen, like it was pocket change beneath his notice.

I had to hand it to him; he played the part perfectly.

But I knew the truth. Being leached dry by his toxic parents, he had probably never seen this much cash in his entire life.

Internally, he had to be screaming with joy.

Testing the waters, I stepped closer and boldly slipped my hand into his.

He didn't pull away. Instead, he stared down at me with an amused glint in his eye. "Nervous?"

"No," I lied, unable to stop myself from swallowing hard.

He let out a low chuckle. "You get the jitters just holding hands, and you're trying to play sugar mommy?"

My jaw dropped. "What the hell are you talking about? Is that how you speak to your boss?"

Pissing off the sugar mommy came with severe consequences.

But my little pet bird clearly hadn't gotten the memo.

For the entire drive back, I kept a cold, furious expression plastered on my face. He just calmly scrolled through his phone, ignoring me.

I silently cursed myself for transferring the money so fast. If I had just paid a forty-grand deposit upfront, his attitude would probably be way better.

This was what a lack of experience got you!

Once we arrived at my penthouse apartment, I planned to keep throwing my weight around to establish some dominance.

But he didn't even glance in my direction. He just casually stripped off his shirt and walked straight into the bathroom.

Listening to the sound of the running water, a twisted feeling washed over melike I was the driver who had just escorted a VIP home for a shower.

I was the one paying the bills! If he was showering, he should be putting on a show for me!

Armed with that righteous indignation, I gripped the handle and shoved the bathroom door open.

He was standing under the spray, his broad back to me. He glanced over his shoulder, thick brows furrowing as I barged in. "Get out."

Chapter 3

The steam was thick, but that tight Captain America ass was still faintly visible through the haze.

That alone gave me a massive boost of liquid courage.

"Excuse me? Why should I get out?" I yelled. "This is my penthouse, and you are my kept man!"

I swaggered right in, planting myself in front of him with my hands on my hips. "I'm going to watch you shower. Consider it an inspection. Is that a problem? I have to see if the goods actually measure up to the price tag."

He looked almost amused by my audacity. Suddenly, he turned fully around, putting everything on display. "Sure," he challenged, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Keep your eyes open. Just try not to pass out."

Water droplets clung to his sculpted, muscular chest, trailing down his torso, tracing the sharp V-lines of his abs

My gaze dropped.

My first thought wasn't about whether Gunner was right about the size.

Instead, I blurted out, "That is so ugly."

The cocky smirk on his face vanished, replaced by a dark, thunderous scowl.

"Brynn," he gritted out, his voice practically dropping below zero. "Say that again."

"You don't get to use my first name!" I snapped back. "I said you're all flash and no substance! It's so hideous I don't even want to use it!"

In reality, my face was burning so hot it felt like it was going to combust. I didn't dare take a second look. The second the words left my mouth, I spun around to bolt.

But his hand clamped around my wrist like a steel vice, yanking me back. He slammed me back against the wet marble wall of the shower. The heavy, suffocating weight of his solid forearm braced against the tile right next to my cheek, caging me in.

"Brynn," he ordered, his hot breath fanning across my face. "Take a good look and try again."

I was forced to get a very, very clear view.

But I couldn't lose my authority as the sugar mommy. How was I supposed to manage my harem in the future?

I gritted my teeth and doubled down. "Try try what again?!" I stammered. "It's obvious you're all bark and no bite! We've been standing here this whole time and it hasn't even booted up. Is it defective or something?"

He let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. Without warning, his large hands gripped my thighs, lifting me straight off the ground.

In my fantasies, this was the moment I became a ravenous, seductive goddess, completely owning him.

In reality, I was like those internet trolls who talked a huge game online but were complete virgins in real life. As his dangerously handsome face leaned in close, my brain blue-screened. My limbs locked up, going rigid like a plank of wood.

He dipped his head, his beautifully sculpted lips crashing down on mine.

"Am I giving you CPR right now?" he demanded, pulling back slightly with a frown. "Use your tongue."

I immediately stuck my tongue straight out.

He stared down at me, looking at my tongue hanging out like a lizard's. His face darkened to the color of charcoal. With a disgusted sigh, he dropped me.

I landed hard on the toilet seat, nearly falling backward into the bowl.

He shot me a condescending glare from above before a mocking smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Do you need me to help you use the potty, little girl?"

Ah! He was so ridiculously hot when he smiled!

Wait, no. Did he just dare to mock me and call me a little girl?!

I thought that by dropping cash on a sugar baby, I'd be getting carried around and called 'baby,' living in a bubble of pure bliss.

Instead, I was the one covered in soap bubbles, looking like a total idiot. And Pierce had already thrown his clothes back on and slammed the front door on his way out.

Even when Kim Kardashian returns a custom couture gown she hates, she has someone wrap it carefully in a dust bag before sending it back. Yet here I was, the glorious sugar mommy, nearly getting wedged upside down in my own toilet bowl!

My wallet hurt, and my pride hurt even more. Fuming, I dialed Gunner's number, ready to play the victim.

"I'm out of state shooting a stream right now, I have no idea what's going on!" Gunner yelled over the line. "But the guys at the office just told me Pierce is back at the garage, bawling his eyes out."

I blinked. "Why is he crying?"

"He told the guys he ran into a girl he really likes today. He wanted to act cool, but totally blew it, and thinks he made her mad. Damn, they said the guy is sobbing like a freaking baby!"

The second I heard that, all my anger vanished into thin air.

So that was what he was actually thinking.

A warm, sickeningly sweet flutter bloomed in my chest.

Chapter 4

This dog of a man. Why was he still playing it cool with his sugar mommy? Was he terrified I'd get bored of him too fast?

Whatever. As long as he was willing to put his back into serving his queen, I'd let it slide.

I shot Pierce a text, asking where he was.

He left me on read.

Just as I was starting to panic that he'd thrown himself off a bridge out of sheer heartbreak, a photo popped up in my socialite group chat.

The background was the most exclusive, high-end private club in New York. A bunch of trust fund babies were standing around, tossing back drinks and acting like they owned the world. And right in the center of them stood my little pet bird, Pierce, knocking back a shot of hard liquor.

The rich girls surrounding him were practically salivating, their eyes glued to his body like a pack of starved wolves.

Unbelievable. I was sitting here worried sick about him, and he was out doing side hustles at a club, entertaining rich cougars!

I hauled ass to the club. The second I shoved the VIP door open, some socialite was leaning over to hand him a drink. Her tone was even more pathetic and desperate than mine. "Pierce, would it be convenient for me to pay you a visit at your estate tomorrow"

It was the exact same bitch who mocked me for not having the guts to feel up those strippers!

I stormed forward in a few massive strides, snatched the glass right out of her hand, and yanked Pierce behind my back. "Hey, stay away from my man! He's my exclusive property now!"

Afraid I didn't sound convincing enough, I spun around, threw my arms around his neck, got up on my tiptoes, and forcefully smashed my lips against his.

Thank god I binge-watched French kissing tutorials on YouTube on the way here. Right now, my kissing technique was passionate, wild, and full of aggression.

Pierce seemed highly satisfied with my upgraded skills. His thick arm wrapped like a steel band around my waist, pulling me flush against him to deepen the kiss.

He instantly flipped the script and took total control, his aggressive invasion leaving my face burning hot. I almost melted completely into it.

When we finally broke apart, I wiped the wetness from my swollen lips and sneered at that socialite. "See that? My man. V-taper. Captain America ass. And his package puts those club strippers to absolute shame."

I felt like an unapologetic boss babe delivering that line. My aura must have been overwhelming.

Otherwise, why would every single trust fund baby in the room be staring at me in dead silence?

The looks in their eyes were a mix of shock and terror, but mostly, it was awe. Like a deep, genuine respect radiating from their souls.

I guess this was what they meant when they said: Confidence is a woman's best accessory.

Without waiting for a response, I grabbed Pierce's hand and dragged him out of there.

Just before we walked out the door, he casually glanced over his shoulder at the stunned room. "Nothing happened here tonight."

I was genuinely touched. He was obviously just there to hustle for some extra cash, yet he actually found the guts to speak to his wealthy clients like that, just to protect me.

Still, once we were out of the club, I turned to him with a deadly serious expression. "Don't ever talk to those people like that again. They are vicious, and their bodyguards will literally beat you to a pulp."

"The only reason they froze up in there was because they were terrified of me. If I hadn't been there, you would've been jumped! Got it?"

Seeing the lazy, completely unfazed look on his face, I got so mad I literally jumped up and pinched his ear. "Hey! Are you listening to me?! I'm talking to you!"

He finally looked down at me, but his dark gaze immediately dropped to my lips. "They're pretty soft," he murmured suddenly. "Kiss me again."

"Wh what?"

Before I could even process the request, his long fingers tilted my jaw up, and he crashed his mouth down on mine.

It was infinitely more intense and feral than the kiss in the VIP room. He was like an addict, his tongue relentlessly chasing mine, tangling us together.

I had no idea how the hell I got home.

It wasn't until I was pinned flat on my mattress that my brain finally rebooted. "Wait the car we just took was that a Rolls-Royce?!"

He didn't even look up, his dark eyes entirely focused on unbuttoning my shirt. "Yeah. Just picked a random one at the dealership."

"I just gave you eighty grand, and you immediately turned around and rented a Rolls to flex?! You absolute gold digger! Keep this up and I'm cutting your allowance in half! Let's see you try to act like a billionaire then!"

Furious, I forcefully flipped us over, planning to straddle him and poke his hard pecs to teach him a serious lesson.

Chapter 5