Gay Sugar Daddy

5

"Here's your room," he opens the door on our left as I can't help but to ask, "And whose door is this?" when I see another one on the opposite of my new bedroom door.

"That would be mine, there's only two rooms on this floor so here, come in," and he pushes the door to reveal my new chamber for the next three months.

My jaw totally drops seeing how huge the space is. It's like having a separate apartment. A mini living area with a cream colored couch, a super duper large bed at the end of the room, with a door that I believe is the ensuite bathroom.

Don't tell me he also has a walk in closet for me?

Cause that would be sick! I've always wanted one, and pretend that I indeed have it every time I stay at those luxurious suites with my sugar daddies, even for a short few-days vacation.

But to have one here, on a long stay, dedicated specially for me, "Oh wow."

"Do you like it?" He asks as he stands in front of the shelves in the walk-in closet, which I nod.

"I love it."

Perhaps feeling like he's achieved the first step of convincing me to stay, he grins like a little boy again, making me really wanna smooch his adorable face at this point.

So I walk to the ensuite bathroom instead. No touchy this early, Elle. Be classy, not trashy.

"Is your room bigger? Or a mirror image of mine?"

Because damn, the jacuzzi-bathtub is huge, there are two sinks for his-and-her feature, and a fancy toilet that has buttons on it. f**k, even a TV?

"You'll know when you make me your punching bag."

I laugh, he still remembers yesterday.

"Come, I'll show you your favorite spot."

"My favorite spot?" I've only arrived ten minutes ago and I already have a favorite spot? That I haven't seen yet?

He walks out of the giant bathroom as I follow him from behind, going towards the couch set which I now realise there's a door behind it. I thought it's just a dummy with that huge floor to ceiling windows but turns out it's indeed a door because he's currently unlocking it.

"It really is my favorite spot." I gasp at the view of this breathtaking balcony with another set of cozy three piece couch. The size of this balcony warrants for another bedroom if he wants to, it's so huge with a wide empty space dedicated for, what? Yoga? Painting? Sun bathing in summer?

"Hey you have a garden!" I'm like that excited little girl who gets to pick the flavour of her ice cream, seeing the small garden from my balcony.

When I arrived here I was already mesmerised by the size of his house. Correction, mansion. Or palace, by the rate of how big and beautiful this place is once I've seen the interior. But to have this kinda view, so green so serene, I'm really fascinated by how perfect the house is.

"I'll give you a tour sometime later, but I'll let you unpack first while I prep for dinner. Is that okay?"

"And the man cooks." I raise my eyebrow, purposely fake a shock as if I've never Googled him or know that he's a chef by profession.

He smiles, "Yes he does."

Damn that dimple. Perfect dimple.

***

Half an hour later I take my own initiative to go down the stairs and walk along the hallway to find Owen. Figured I might as well familiarise myself with the layout of the ground floor while looking for the kitchen, since he said he's prepping dinner so he must be there.

I came across this big dining area with a table and chairs that can sit a party of fifteen; yes I counted the chairs. Amazing, perhaps he always hosts a dinner party? For family? Or friends? Does he have any family in New York? But he plays for England. Is he from London? But he doesn't have the accent.

And then I finally found the kitchen but he's nowhere to be seen. But damn, the space is again, hugeeee. Like he has this huge island with huge sink, huge stove, huge refrigerator, and then there's a door which I think lead to the pantry, and, oh wow. That's the garden I saw just now!

This kitchen has the same floor to ceiling windows so we're totally exposed from the inside but I'd opt for that too by how beautiful the garden is. I'd want to cook with that view as I wait for my soup to boil, or pasta to simmer, or steak to-

Wait. This is temporary. Shut up Elle. No more overthinking or over dreaming.

But when I focus on the garden, I can see him squatting in front of a green plant. He looks like he's plucking some leaves from that small plant. How cute.

"Hey," he greets me once he realises I'm standing next to the door that connects the kitchen and the garden, as he's still squatting but next to another plant.

"This place is fascinating," I begin, "And I haven't even seen the whole thing."

He smiles as he stands up while holding a big transparent bowl, where he houses all his harvests inside.

"Do you live alone? It's too big to live alone. You can't be living alone, are you?"

"I like my personal space. So yeah, I live alone."

"Why would you ask me to move in then? Which by the way, I've signed the NDA this morning. So don't give me those you haven't signed the NDA speech anymore." I eye him with a look that can puncture a blood vessel as he laughs.

"Can't I at least cook first?" He is now standing in front of me, "Maybe we can talk over dinner?"

"Nope," I shake my head stubbornly, "We can talk while you're cooking. Nobody's getting in their way; hand is for cooking, mouth is for talking. Okay go, now."

He doesn't say anything and just laughs as he steps inside and starts to take things out of the fridge. I just lean on the kitchen counter, placing my elbows on it with my face propped on my palms, watching him boringly, waiting for the revelation.

"Oh my God!" I gasp seeing the chicken he puts on the counter, "It's so big!" There's no way that's a chicken. It's gotta be a turkey at least.

He smirks while glancing at me, "That's what she said."

I laugh so loud I think I've left the classy me in the bedroom upstairs with how loud my laugh is, going full blast with the deep man-like laugh.

I swear I'm not easily amused like this but when I'm with him, I really feel like I'm hanging out with a friend, instead of an employer s***h client. For the fact we just met yesterday.

Fine. Perhaps Google helped me a lot at getting acquaintance with him. And f*******:. i********:. Twitter. Insert all social medias here. Stalker alert.

***

"So you're not gonna tell me until dinner?" I ask him when it's been five minutes but he has been chopping stuffs while I watch him in silence.

"Have you unpacked your stuffs?"

"Why? Afraid if I'm gonna leave right after you tell me the reasons?"

He doesn't look at me but starts to reach for the big bird, "Smart girl."

"It's too obvious. Won't need a genius to connect the dots." I watch him skillfully shoving the half-cut bulb of garlic into the chicken, then some herbs, and other stuffs.

The way his face getting serious as he repeatedly puts his hand in and out of the bird to insert the stuffing, damn that's hot. Is that how he fingered his previous sugar babies?

"I haven't unpacked," I continue when he keeps quiet as he focused on the bird, "But I'm not gonna leave at least until after dinner. Need the energy to carry the bag."

Because I really can fit this huge man in front of me into my suitcase; I f*****g packed three years of living in London in a suitcase.

He smiles, but that's all he does. Because now he's rubbing some kinda powder to the chicken skin, massaging it. His fingers are so skillful, I think I want to be that bird now. Lying on the counter, just getting fingered and massaged, oh God. I'm turned on by this simple act of food prepping?

And when his hair falls all over his forehead as he tilts it down with that rubbing act, I smile to myself by how lucky I am to meet a guy this attractive with good cooking skill and so far, well mannered and, don't forget the money part. He surely ticks all the boxes.

Wait. He f*****g ticks all the boxes!

I thought I'd find a man once I've ventured into the working world but right now, this man in front of me, ticks all the boxes.

Yeah it's still early, it's only 24 hours for God's sake, and I haven't even known his reason for wanting me so bad but for now, he's the dream guy I've been waiting my whole life.

"If you think it's too much for you," he lifts his face once again, "I'll personally send you to a hotel tonight."

Hm? To that extent?

"I'll ask my driver to send you if you're really uncomfortable." Okay he's definitely making me nervous now.

It's not b**m, because I didn't tick that box. I don't do kinky stuff, I mean I don't mind if others like it but it's not for me so, what is it? What's so secretive besides liking to hurt people for pleasure?