Setting my keys down on the small side table near the door, I traverse the dark hardwood flooring in the hall to the massive open-plan living room that’s bordered on two sides by floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook Oakland Bay, with the Bay Bridge and Oakland hills in the distance. Sela’s not in the living room studying, but I know she’s here because her ratty backpack is on the floor beside the couch.

I move to the hall that leads to the other side of the condo, which takes up the entire top floor of my building. The bedroom areas are separated from the openness of the living, kitchen, and dining areas, with the master bedroom at the end of the hall. Normally, as soon as I step into the bedroom, my attention is always taken by the same floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the Financial District and Coit Tower, but instead I’m drawn to Sela sitting on my carpeted floor with a pile of my clothes all around her. She’s currently folding a white T-shirt of mine into a crisp, neat square and setting it carefully in a drawer.

“What are you doing?” I ask, watching her with a mix of amazement and confusion.

“Organizing your drawers and straightening up your clothes,” she says without even looking at me. “I’m guessing you just dump your clothes in whatever drawers are easiest to reach right from the dryer.”

Her voice holds a hint of an amused laugh, but I still can’t tell because her back is to me. I shed my suit jacket, as I had to dress up for some meetings, and work my tie loose. I move to the end of the bed and sit down, which now lets me see the side of her face…the graceful curve of her neck…the freckles across her nose and cheek.

And fuck…when did freckles start to get me hard?

“You don’t have to do that for me,” I tell her as she pulls another wrinkled white T-shirt from the pile beside her and starts to fold it.

She shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

I lean forward, snag her wrist, and tug at her. “But I do.”

Sela turns her beautiful head my way and grins at me. “You’re a total slob to live with, so while I’m here, expect me to do a little cleaning and organizing. Besides, I’m tired of living out of my suitcase and want a little room of my own.”

I pull on her harder and she comes up to her knees while dropping the shirt from her hand, and when I continue to pull, she finally comes to her feet. I bring my hands to her waist, lean back, and pull her down on top of me as I lay back against the mattress. She falls onto my body, her hands going to my chest and her long hair falling forward to shield us.

“Seriously,” I say with our noses almost touching. “You do not have to clean this place. Or organize me. Or do anything for me at all.”

The smile slides from her face a bit and she murmurs, “But I do have to do something for you, right? You are my Sugar Daddy, after all.”

I grimace and bring a hand to her face, gripping her chin. “Don’t call me that.”

She blinks in surprise at the vehemence in my voice. Tilting her head, she asks, “You don’t like your own business very much, do you?”

I’m now the one that blinks at her in surprise. “On the contrary, I like my business very much. We provide a great service to both the men and the women who have joined.”

“Then why don’t you want to be called a Sugar Daddy?” she asks.

I roll our bodies over, putting her flat on her back and coming to rest on top of her. I press my elbows into the mattress and stare down at her. “I had you sign that ridiculous agreement to get you here with no arguments. But I wouldn’t hold you to it. I have you here because I find you fascinating and I’m very much enjoying fucking you. That’s all there is to it.”

“But the money you paid—”

“It’s yours no matter what happens,” I tell her, and that’s true enough. I had her give me a summary of all related expenses for the year she’s already taken of the course and the one she’s now finishing up, as well as the information on her undergraduate loans, and I deposited those funds into her bank account. It’s an amount that’s paltry in comparison to my fortune, and I won’t miss it a bit.

Her eyes go warm and sad all at once. “I feel like I’m taking advantage of you. You pay for my college and give me amazing orgasms, and I can leave whenever I want. I just don’t get it.”

“I’m just fucking magnanimous that way,” I tell her with a grin, and then press my lips to hers. She laughs, which causes her mouth to open, and I slide my tongue in.

We kiss for a moment, but my cock seems to think that’s an open invitation to come play, so I pull my mouth from hers and push up off of her. Rolling to the side, I stand up and hold my hand out to her. “Come on…let’s go eat at The Slanted Door. We’ll gorge on oysters and ceviche.”

She places her hand in mine and lets me pull her from the bed. She looks absolutely amazing in jeans and a T-shirt, no makeup on her face. I imagine most Sugar Babies walk around with perfect makeup and hair along with whatever designer clothing their Daddies decide to buy for them. The only thing that Sela’s asked for since we moved in was a tea kettle, since she prefers tea to coffee.

“I’m going to finish putting these clothes away,” she says as she releases my hand and starts to kneel back down on the carpet. And then as an afterthought, she asks, “I was dust mopping the condo today but the middle bedroom is locked. Want me to clean in there?”

I roll my eyes and start to pull my tie from around my neck. “No, Cinderella…I don’t want you to clean that room.”

“What’s in there?” she asks as she folds another T-shirt. “Some top-secret stuff?”

I laugh as I turn to look at her, pulling the tie free. “It’s my office.”

I expect her to laugh with amusement and ask why the door is locked, which wouldn’t bother me in the slightest. I do have some proprietary information in there like my financial records and copies of my business agreements. Stuff that’s nobody’s business but my own, and before Sela moved in, I made sure to lock that door.

Yes, I expect but her to laugh and joke about the locked door, but instead, I see something cloud her eyes. Consternation, maybe? Calculation?

I’m not sure, and she turns her face from me to the next T-shirt, so I can’t continue to analyze it.

But then Sela says, “Want a blow job before we go to dinner?” and I’m completely thrown off track. Whatever look was on her face is completely forgotten.