SO FOR REAL: A Sugar Baby Novella Read online

  SO FOR REAL

  A Sugar Baby Novella

  Rebekah Weatherspoon

  Contents

  Books by Rebekah

  Praise for Rebekah’s Work

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  SO MUCH MORE TO COME

  About the Author

  Books by Rebekah

  VAMPIRE SORORITY SISTERS

  Better Off Red

  Blacker Than Blue

  Soul To Keep

  STAND ALONE TITLES

  The Fling

  At Her Feet

  Treasure

  THE FIT TRILOGY

  Fit

  Tamed

  Sated

  SUGAR BABY NOVELLAS

  So Sweet

  So Right

  So For Real

  Praise for Rebekah’s Work

  SO SWEET

  “Reading this novella made me happy. I'm definitely looking forward to more.” - Lime Cello, Heroes & Heartbreakers

  AT HER FEET

  “Indeed, the more I read At Her Feet I came to realize that it is the best and most original book that I have read in any genre for a very long time.” – Jim Lyon, The Seattle PI

  FIT

  “I felt satisfied by a complete story at the end, and would highly recommend this to anyone looking for a fun, relatable contemporary romance.” - Elisa Verna, Romantic Times Book Reviews (TOP PICK REVIEW)

  SATED

  “…I LOVED IT. The book was respectful of geeks, people with disabilities, people of color, and the BDSM community, and it was informative and entertaining, and it was funny.” - Carrie S, Smart Bitches Trashy Books

  TREASURE

  “This story is rich yet beguiling, magnificent yet down to earth, and intriguing yet heartwarmingly human.” – J.J., Rainbow Book Reviews

  About This Book

  Even the best laid plans can go completely off the rails…

  After pulling off the perfect wedding, Kayla Davis, now Kayla Bradbury need only sit back and enjoy her wonderful life with her amazing husband, internet billionaire and NBA franchise owner, Michael Bradbury. The two are so head over heels for each other that finding creative ways to extend their honeymoon a whole year seems like the only logical next step in their fool-proof plan for happiness.

  Too bad life has other ideas for the newlyweds. With personnel hiccups in her small business, a husband balancing dual CEO responsibilities, and news that there will be not one, but two unexpected additions to the Bradbury crew, Kayla needs to totally reconfigure her life if she has any hope of keeping things afloat.

  To Mr. and Mrs. Bradbury

  One

  I learned a lot about myself while I was planning our wedding. I learned a whole lot about my family. Like how my little sisters, Kaleigh and Kiara, were willing to actually murder each other for the title of Maid of Honor. I also learned that my mother was completely prepared to disown me if I thought for one second that my fiancé, Michael, and I were going to exchange vows anywhere other than an actual church.

  I learned that marrying an actual billionaire came with some interesting perks and requests, like having your engagement photos in the Times and your wedding photos exclusively featured in the most popular women’s magazine in the country.

  I learned that when you had a best friend like Daniella, she was the right choice for Maid of Honor because she actually made the best go-between with my overzealous aunts and my butt hurt roommates from college, who I literally hadn't spoken to in five years, but invited anyway. I learned that Daniella was really awesome at making lists and delegating tasks and deflecting nonsense, and I had to keep her as my best friend forever and buy her an expensive exotic animal or a boat. Michael and I would have eloped without her.

  There was an amazing engagement party. Two actually—marrying rich was weird. A fun as hell bachelorette party and the best bridal shower a girl could ask for. So many details I’d never considered, but when the day came, I could only think of one thing: I was marrying Michael Bradbury. The way we met, at a Sugar baby/Sugar Daddy cocktail party two summers before, both awkward and uncomfortable and completely out of our elements. What we both wanted and how we each ended up being exactly what the other needed. I never could have imagined it this way. Never in a million years.

  Our engagement had lasted a little over a year. My mother had a guest list to review and opinions on flowers and accessories, and this was her first baby walking down the aisle. She would not be rushed. In that year, I became more and more secure in the fact that Michael was the perfect man for me. His ridiculously good looks aside, even when I tried looking, there was no flaw to be found, or maybe our flaws just meshed so perfectly.

  Michael opened up more, letting his guard down, letting me be my true self. I don’t know when it happened or how, but suddenly he was my person, the one I could tell anything and everything, the one I consulted first, and even though he tried to spare me the details of his business deals, he started to really turn to me when he was undecided or just needed to vent. He knew he could tell me when his mother’s deteriorating health was eating him up inside, how sometimes he felt like the shittiest brother and the shittiest absentee uncle because sometimes he could only send gifts and money when his job made a pitstop to the midwest impossible.

  We built a trust, something I’d never experienced with anyone else before. He was mine and I was his, lover and best friend, my soulmate, the filling in my heart pie, and we got to kick it together until death do us part. I couldn't wait to spend the rest of our lives together. I was fucking excited just to start.

  Our wedding week was a blur. Once we arrived in Michigan, it felt like a race to some sort of bizarre finish line and luckily we made it, incident free. Everyone showed up, everyone looked great. No special vows, just the word the church had to offer, by the book, but I was feeling a tad sentimental so I tasked my cousin, Julianne, with noting the exact time the Reverend pronounced us husband and wife. It was five thirty-four p.m. I told her to write it down and email it to me, too. I didn't want there to be any chance that I would forget.

  It took everyone a little while to make their way out of the church. We waited with our wedding party as our photographer, Shannon, got us situated on the elaborate steps that wrapped around St. Andrew’s Episcopal. She had a plan that involved a particular set of birch-encased windows. I grabbed Michael’s hand and held it to the side of my neck. I’d been a mix of happy and nervous for the last few months, but nothing prepared me for just how excited I’d be once I became a Mrs.

  “Can you feel that?”

  I knew he could. My pulse was actually pounding.

  “I can.” He kissed me again quickly on the lips, then smiled. “Don't pass out on me, okay?”

  “I promise I won't. Are you okay?”

  I couldn't stop looking at him. Everything else around us was moving in high speed, but all I could see was him. Michael was standing there in front of me on the church’s brick steps in stark high def, slow motion. His color was way up and his eyes were still a little watery. I knew he was going through his own range of emotions, but he was my husband now. Checking on his general welfare was my duty.

  “You look like you sniffed some real good shit,” I teased, then kissed him again.

  “I don’t think I can explain how more than okay I am right now. I love you.”

  “I love you.” I leaned up on my toes and kissed him some more. When he pulled away just a little, I realized our whole wedd
ing party was perfectly positioned around us and Shannon had already started snapping away. We took a million more pictures while Zia, my new friend and traveling makeup artist, and Malika, our wedding planner, directed our guests over to the Paultin Conservatory for the reception.

  Laughing at the jokes Michael’s friend Duke and Daniella’s sister Lili would not stop cracking during our photo session helped calm my nerves and level me out a bit, but I was still plenty flustered when Michael and I finally climbed into our private car. Finally, it was just the two of us. I turned to my husband, but before I could get a word out he pulled me into his lap and started hiking up the miles and miles of flowy fabric I was wearing.

  I had picked the dress for comfort and ease over style, but the lace and chiffon were still gorgeous. A little revealing up top, with a plunging neckline. I figured we’d be so busy with smiling and thanking people and making small talk that Michael wouldn’t even get the opportunity to look under the hood until we got to our honeymoon suite much, much later that night. Holy shit, was I wrong.

  “What are you doing?” His lips on my neck made it a little hard to breathe again.

  His hand slipped roughly up my thigh. I spread my legs and arched toward his searching fingers, even though I knew we shouldn’t. The Conservatory wasn’t that far away.

  “You’re not wearing that spanx thing, are you?” Before I could even answer, his hand was groping my crotch. He already had his answer. Again, the day was about comfort. Full body, inch thick, tighter-than-skin spandex spelled anything but comfort to me. I’d opted for a pair of lace panties that offered a hint of sexiness while providing the butt coverage needed to keep the fabric from riding clean up my ass while I tried to out Cha Cha Slide my sisters during the reception.

  Michael pulled the lace aside and gently fondled my suddenly swollen lips. It only took a few strokes before I was soaking wet. He slid a finger inside me and then pulled it out again, once and then again before his fingers moved over my clit.

  “No. Oh god, babe. We have to get over to the reception,” I said. The car was still idling at the curb.

  “No, the fuck we don’t. Not yet.”

  “But we have to do the...the whole grand entrance.” I bit down on my smudge proof lip tint to smother a desperate moan. His erection was pressing against my ass, through the fabric of his suit. We were still technically in the middle of our wedding and we had people waiting for us.

  “Michael—” He silenced me with another deep kiss before he pulled back and looked me in the eye.

  “Kayla. Baby. Relax. I talked to Zia. I talked to Daniella who is gonna talk to Malika. I talked to my sister. I talked to the driver. I just want one minute with my wife. There is booze and entertainment. There is plenty to keep everyone busy. Please—” I gasped as two fingers pushed deep inside of my pussy. “Let me enjoy the first few minutes of married life with my wife.”

  Okay, what he was saying was nice, but the way he smiled, so smug, so satisfied, so happy when he said the words “my wife,” all while stroking me in the most dirty of ways…I almost came on his hand right then.

  “Well,” I groaned as I wrapped my arm around his shoulder to help steady myself on his lap. “I think you’re right. I’m sorry. I’m still in responsible bride mode. I want more than a few minutes alone with you, too.” I’d been so focused on blowing his mind during our honeymoon, I’d put the option of quality pants-off time out of my mind until then. But part of me had forgotten who I was dealing with. This was Michael Bradbury, and with him, as long as you didn’t violate any law of public indecency, any time was pants-off time. I shifted closer, spreading my legs even wider until my knees were hooked on either side of his thighs.

  “Have I mentioned that I love you?”

  “I—” I couldn’t speak. Michael had my clit gently between his fingers. I was going to come any second. My hip swirled against his hand, my aching muscles desperate for more. A strong orgasm tackled my senses, forcing me to press my forehead against Michael’s as I shuddered through the pleasure. “I love you too,” I whimpered.

  Michael’s lips found mine again, his kisses probably the best and worst thing to help me come down. His cock was still hard against my leg when I could finally see straight. I kept on kissing him, but slid off his lap and went right for his belt. I was so glad he’d decided on a simple suit and not a tux with a ton of unnecessary pieces like a cummberbund or a vest. His erection practically popped into my hand as he wiggled his pants and boxer briefs out of the way. His dick was hard and thick, enough to fill one hand and long enough to stroke with two. I gripped him firm, feeling him up and down as I watched the satisfied look on his face.

  “Don’t fuck up my hair,” I instructed him with a deadly glare before I leaned over his lap. “I mean it.”

  “I won't, baby.” His laugh turned into a groan. Zia finished my makeup off with some type of outdoor deck sealant so my wedding day face isn't going anywhere, blow job or no, but my hair was another matter. It would have been obvious if Michael had gotten a desperate handful. As I traced the head of his cock a few times with my tongue, he followed my strict orders, toying with the row of pearl buttons running down the deceptively sheer fabrics covering my back.

  I rushed. I knew I did. No matter what he told who, my mom raised a good southern girl and at the very least she would say it was rude to keep that many people waiting too long. Especially when Michael and I had ten days of no-pants time and butt stuff just around the corner. I sucked him deep and hard, and stroked him the desperate way he liked when we both got a little rough and carried away. I did the one thing I knew would drive him crazy—I looked him in the eye while I was jerking him. I saw the tension spread across his forehead and his fingers spread wide on my back. He knew better than to pop one of my buttons. He refused to close his eyes when he came. They narrowed to small slits as he cursed and groaned my name, filling my mouth with every drop he had.

  He had clearly thought of everything ’cause there was a festively decorated basket in one of the jump seats. I didn't notice it at first, but Michael handed me some water and mints, then cleaned himself up with some wet wipes. There was lotion, something I’d made a serious part of his life, and when we were all fresh and tidy—my hair still perfectly in place—Michael cracked the door and told the driver we were ready to go.

  He settled back in the seat next to me and took my hand, brushing his lips against my knuckles before he kissed the back of my hand. I was still a little high from my orgasm but those small, sweet gestures made me want to cry all the tears that hadn’t escaped during our simple vows.

  “Is this what married life is going to be like with you, Mr. Bradbury?” I teased.

  “Mrs. Bradbury,” he said before he kissed me on the temple. “This life will be whatever you want it to be. Just tell me and it's yours.”

  The billions lining his bank account made that statement absolutely doable, but I believed him because I knew he loved me just that much.

  ✶

  Yeah, yeah saying our vows was great and shit, but I think Michael and I had the best reception in the history of wedding receptions. The food was delicious and plentiful, a fancy spin on southern barbecue with gluten free and vegetarian options. DJ Makeway took a break from his world tour to spin and emcee. Michael and I shared our first dance to a new favorite off De’bonay’s most recent album. Of course she was there to sing it for us live. Kiara and Kaleigh, and Myra and Matthew made the most adorable toasts and I couldn’t help but weep like a baby because my heart was full to bursting. I knew how lucky Michael and I were. We both had great families and now the number of sweet, caring people in our lives had officially doubled.

  I danced with my dad to some mix he’d rigged up with the DJ, a combo of Stevie Wonder’s “Isn't She Lovely” and Prince’s “1999,” both bathtime favorites when I was a kid. Michael’s mom Nina still struggled in her ongoing battle with dementia, but she was in great spirits and let Michael twirl her around the dance f
loor to a James Taylor classic. After that I made a pact with Michael because we’ve been to enough social functions together. No separating. We worked the room together, hand in hand greeting our families and friends. Team Bradbury FTW. We skipped cutting a cake because it was such a weird tradition to me and Michael wasn't too hung up on it either and instead treated our guests to a sweets bar with all the mini cupcakes and brownies and tarts they could handle.

  I fought against it at first, but Michael’s business partner and his wife, insisted on arranging a gifting suite for our guests. I mean there are goodie bags and then there are bags with nearly fifteen thousand dollars worth of free shit, but when my fifteen-year-old cousin came running up to me, losing his shit because he never thought he’d have a smartwatch, I remembered again that having money was not a bad thing. As the night stretched on, Michael and I made a stealth exit. We had plans for brunch with our families and whichever guests decided to hang around the following morning, but finally it was US time.

  ✶

  We’d already been in Michigan for a little over a week, staying at a large rental with Holger, our primary housekeeper, and our dogs Patch and Penny, but that night we checked into this adorable honeymoon suite at a local hotel Michael’s sister had picked out for us. Daniella and my mom told me a hundred times that they would take care of everything and Ruben, Michael’s personal assistant, teamed with Holger to make sure all of our clothes and personal odds and ends were there waiting for us. There were other surprises waiting when we opened the honeymoon suite door.

  Michael stepped behind me and immediately started unbuttoning my dress. I shivered as his lips traced over my bare shoulder. I was exhausted and champagne drunk, but this was a moment I’d been waiting for for over a year. Making love to my husband.