Page 3 of Sour Candy (Sour Candy #1)

Benji didn’t see the notification until the next afternoon.

In his defense, he’d spent most of yesterday desperately scrolling through job listings and doing the homework he’d missed out on while he was working.

Then Max had gotten locked out of the apartment, and Benji had to run home to let him in.

And then Max wanted to watch that stupid robot movie again, and Benji had fallen asleep on the couch, with Max hissing that he was missing the best part.

He’d woken up with a crick in his neck and had completely forgotten to check his emails until classes were over, when he was standing at the bus stop with Daphne.

She nudged him. “Your bus is coming.”

“What? Oh.” He climbed on and swiped his bus card, mind still glued to the notification.

Should he delete it? He wasn’t expecting to get many hits.

Even with Daphne coaching him, that off-putting bio had been as welcoming as he could tolerate.

He didn’t want any rich assholes thinking they could push him around.

Daphne sat down next to him, leaning over to look at his screen. “What’s that face about?”

“No face,” Benji said hastily. He shoved his back against the bus window so she couldn’t see his screen.

She watched him, amused. “Okay! Keep your secrets, weirdo.”

“You’re the weirdo,” he said distractedly, clicking into the link.

Noah98 had sent him a message. Hi there. You seem sweet. Want to get dinner tomorrow night and see if we’re compatible?

“You seem sweet ,” Benji said, incredulous. Who the hell did this guy think he was? Why was it making him blush like a schoolgirl?

“What is that face?” Daphne crowed, delighted.

He shushed her and clicked into the guy’s profile.

His mouth went dry. Noah98 was hot . Thirty-five and muscly and hairy, and a list of interests that made him fight the urge to cross his legs. Everything he wanted overlapped with what Benji had added, and to top it all off, his bio said:

Looking for a sub who can take all of me. I want to spoil, dominate, and overwhelm you until you can’t take it anymore. DM if interested.

Benji shifted in the raggedy bus seat. Take all of me. What did that mean? Did he have a stupidly big dick, or was he just really, really intense? Not to mention that last part: spoil, dominate, and overwhelm you until you can’t take it.

“Jesus,” Benji muttered. If this guy was real, he’d walked right out of his fantasies.

Daphne shoved over, trying to see.

“Hey!” Benji clasped his phone to his chest. “Let a guy have his secrets, Daph!”

“I helped you make the account,” she reminded him. “Let me see who you got!”

He glowered at her. Then he reluctantly peeled the phone away from his chest and showed her.

“He might have an ugly face,” he insisted as Daphne grinned at the profile. “He might be a tool. He might be?—”

“Perfect,” said Daphne sunnily. She hadn’t batted an eye while she proofread his list of things he would and wouldn’t do.

Benji’s face burned. She knew what he wanted, but she didn’t know the details of his sad, mostly empty sex life, which involved a lot of Benji getting too tied up in his own head to enjoy anything, or leaving before anything serious could happen. He was his own worst cockblock.

But maybe this guy could fix that, a voice whispered in the back of his head. He squashed that hope as violently as possible. He’d just be happy if he could get through the ordeal with a paycheck. He wasn’t about to expect the guy to cure all his sexual hangups.

“He wants to take you to dinner,” Daphne read out. She squinted at the clock. “Guess you’re out of time.”

“What? But he said?—”

“He sent it yesterday, babe.”

Benji stared at the notification. He had sent it yesterday. Late last night, giving Benji the whole day to reply. And here he was, only checking his notifications at 4 p.m.

“Shit,” he spat. He swiped the phone off her, typing out a message: hi this is benjamin. dinner sounds good. here’s my phn number, don’t be a creep about it.

“Maybe don’t add that last part,” Daphne advised.

Too late. Benji was already hitting send.

Daphne winced. “ Don’t be a creep about it ?”

“I just don’t want him getting any ideas,” Benji said. “Like—I don’t know. People are creeps, Daph!”

“Are they really?” said Daphne dryly. “I hadn’t noticed.”

She waved at her body, which got catcalled at least once a week, no matter if she was wearing a tight skirt or the loosest sweatpants she could find.

“I’m just saying,” she continued, batting those fake eyelashes and looking at him so sweetly he’d been sure it was a ruse when they first met. “You don’t have to be like this with everyone , Benji. Some people are nice.”

“Which is why I’m on a sugar baby website,” Benji whispered, all too aware of the crowded bus around them. “To meet someone nice .”

He shoved his phone back in his pocket, settling into his chair.

His phone rang before he even had time to take his hand back out.

Daphne stared at him, mouth open on an incredulous gape.

“No,” he replied. “Nope.”

He pulled his phone back out. Unknown number.

“It’s not him,” he told Daphne as she giggled. “Shut up. He said he’s thirty-five, even thirty-five-year-olds don’t call anymore! It’s a debt collector, or one of my aunt’s old lawyers, saying they want the car back. Joke's on them, fuckers, we had to sell it!”

“Benji!” Daphne waved at the phone.

He cursed and pressed it to his ear. “Yeah?”

Daphne smacked him in the shoulder. He pinched her knee. He wanted to be a little bit rude to the guy, just to see what his reaction was.

“Hello,” came a deep, rich voice that made Benji shiver. “I’m sorry, I might have the wrong number. Is this Benjamin?”

Benji tried to speak, but his throat was suddenly so dry that all that came out was a croak. He swallowed hard and tried again.

“Yeah,” he squeaked. He thumped his chest. “Yes. This is he. I mean, me. Uh-huh.”

“It’s Noah,” said the annoyingly hot voice. “Are you still interested in dinner?”

Benji nodded, like an idiot. Then he caught himself. “Dinner would be good.”

“Just to see if we’re compatible,” Noah continued, voice oddly soothing.

Benji felt himself prickle—he wasn’t some scared kid who needed coddling—but it was swamped by a strange warmth in his chest. It sounded like Noah wanted to reassure him nothing needed to happen tonight. Shit, could he tell Benji was nervous?

“Great,” Benji said, trying to sound cool and unaffected. “Compatible. Good. How’s six?”

“Six works,” Noah said, sounding amused. “How about Elijah’s Corner? It’s uptown. I can make us a reservation.”

“Awesome,” Benji replied, ignoring Daphne’s gaze drilling into him. “See you there.”

“See you,” Noah said. “Benjamin.”

Benji shivered.

The line went dead.

Benji scratched the back of his neck, which was suddenly damp with sweat.

His mouth was still dry. He was half-hard in his jeans.

He needed to make dinner for Max and shower and maybe prep himself to get fucked, because even though Noah had implied there didn’t have to be sex, he really needed the money.

Daphne was still staring at him, wide-eyed. Her smile had morphed from joy into pure shock as the conversation continued and Benji went from gruff to a pile of goo.

“What the heck was that ?”

“I don’t know!” Benji dropped his head into his hands, reeling. “He just— His voice— And he said my name like?—”

“I’ve never heard you get like that over a guy,” Daphne said. “Usually you’re all…”

She puffed herself up, miming the tough guy act that he put on when a guy hit on him.

Self-preservation , he always called it.

Putting your walls up like a dummy , Daphne called it.

“At least the first few times you talk to them,” she continued.

“I know ,” Benji hissed. “What am I gonna do? I can’t act like that on the date!”

Daphne thought about it. “Maybe it’s good. He’ll get to see the real you.”

Benji’s face twisted. He didn’t want to show some stranger the real him .

He hadn’t done anything to earn it. More importantly, he didn’t trust him.

It had taken Benji months to trust Daphne , who was the most trustworthy person he’d ever met.

Even if this was a date-date, he couldn’t show up with all his walls down.

Showing up like that to a potential sugar baby date sounded like the worst decision he’d ever made.

“I’m gonna get my head on straight,” Benji decided. “Then make dinner for Max. Then shower all this stress-sweat off me. Then go on the date.”

He didn’t add the prepping part. Daphne didn’t need to know. But by the coy look she gave him, she had an inkling of what else he was going to get up to in that shower.

Max’s dinner was in the oven. Benji’s entire wardrobe lay on his bedroom floor, flung out in the desperate hope he had something akin to date clothes.

His asshole property manager, Jerry, hadn’t emailed back, but the plumber had.

And if tonight went well, Benji could actually pay him when he came around tomorrow.

Maybe Noah wouldn’t even want sex, Benji considered as he propped his foot up on the lip of the bathtub, the shower still running to mask any embarrassing noises. Maybe he was the kind of guy who shelled out money for a date.

His inner cynic snorted. If there was one thing Benji knew, it was that nobody got things for free.

He trailed his slippery fingers behind his balls, massaging his entrance. His cock was already hardening, like it always did when he played with his hole. He’d shaved and cleaned down there, which meant one thing left: stretching.

He slipped one finger in. It wasn’t enough, it never was, but this wasn’t about his own pleasure.

This was about getting himself ready. Noah would appreciate it if the night went well.

Right? Less effort on his part. Benji worked a second finger in, eyes falling shut as he imagined that rich voice telling him he’d done such a good job getting ready for him.

He pushed a third finger in. His cock bobbed up against his stomach, wetness beading at the tip. He ignored it, biting his lip. Thrusting shallowly until he was stretched. Ready to be… How had Noah phrased it? Spoiled, dominated, overwhelmed.

His cock twitched against his stomach, spilling precum.

“Not yet,” he told it.

He eyed the butt plug on the bathroom sink.

He’d never been outside with a plug in him before.

That would be an experience. Suddenly, he wished he hadn’t picked one that was so big—he didn’t want to get hard while he was on the bus.

This would rub hard against his prostate if he leaned the right way.

He just needed to avoid doing that during dinner.

He got dressed carefully, tucking his now half-mast cock inside his boxers and applying deodorant under his armpits, which were damp again.

“You can always walk out,” he told his reflection. “He probably won’t want you, anyway. So it’s… fine.”

He squirmed, gasping when the plug brushed his prostate.

His cock tried to firm up again, but he stilled until it went down.

It was good if the guy wanted him, he reminded himself.

He needed that money. He couldn’t throw that away just because he was panicking over having sex with an outrageously hot guy who was into all the same shit he was into.

Even if the night went sideways and the sex was as subpar as the rest of his limited experiences had been, so what?

He’d still have the money. That was what mattered.

“Don’t be a hostile jackass,” he told his reflection. “But, y’know, don’t go to pieces, either. Walk the line, dumbass.”

His reflection stared back at him, wide-eyed and vulnerable. The perfect target for some rich asshole to walk all over.

“Goddamnit,” he sighed.

He practiced his cool, unaffected face all the way to the restaurant. Then he got there, and it was replaced by slack-jawed shock.

This place was nice . Way too nice for a guy who grew up in a string of grungy apartment buildings downtown. Elijah’s Corner sounded like a diner, not a fancy restaurant with a swan sculpture spouting water next to the door. They even had a valet, a middle-aged guy in little white gloves.

Benji could feel the guy’s gaze drilling into his back as he walked in. The woman behind the front desk gave him an equally dubious look, eyeing Benji’s jeans and boots—the best he owned but still scuffed and a little holey.

Benji gave her a tight smile. “Hi. I have a reservation under Noah?”

The woman’s face transformed into surprised joy.

“Right this way,” she said, beaming.

Benji followed her over to a corner table, trying not to feel like he was being set up on a game show. Or about to get kidnapped. Or a hundred other terrible things, because this was way too nice to be real. There had to be a catch.

He sat down and checked his phone. He was two minutes early.

He would’ve been even earlier, but he had to duck into a bodega after he got off the bus to buy deodorant.

It had officially emptied his savings account, but that was fine.

After tonight, he’d have enough for the next month. If he played his cards right, at least.

A familiar voice piped up behind him. “Benjamin?”

Benji turned, heart in his throat.

“Hi,” he said. At least, he tried to. What really came out was an odd trilling sound as his vocal chords stopped working.

Noah was beautiful. Warm caramel eyes, muscles straining his button-down.

From all that body hair, he’d expected a beard, but Noah was clean-shaven, his brown hair slicked back like some old-fashioned movie star.

But what struck Benji most was his smile: it was confident, sure.

The sort you’d expect from someone willing to shell out for a sugar baby.

But it was also kind . Trustworthy. Benji had never trusted anyone without months of hard vetting, but one smile from this guy made him want to hand him his still-beating heart. Here you go. Look after it.

Then, horrifyingly, Noah’s smile shrank. “Are you alright?”