Book Four: TBD Coming Fall 2021
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Twisted Christmas
Sugar Daddy Santa Claus
“One week, just the THREE of us, what could possibly go wrong?
The more the merrier right?”
Baby
BY S. RENA & BL MUTE
Baby
Copyright © 2020 by S. Rena & BL Mute
This novella is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher or author.
A Novella Written & Published by S. Rena & BL Mute
Disclaimer
Warning!
This is a forbidden, age-gap, romance that contains mature content, domestic abuse, cheating, and other content that may be disturbing or triggering to some readers. If such materials offend you, please do not read.
Blurb
★ Baby★
A Forbidden Reverse Age Gap Prequel
They say what's done in the dark always comes to light.
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Aston—or Baby as he's called—saw right through the facade. The smiles, despite how weak they were have been my shield.
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Until him...
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Seven years I've suffered and in one night, surrounded by holiday cheer and false pleasantries, my world changed.
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I'm his teacher and it should have never been more than that. But, then again, everyone knows what they say about the word never.
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We crossed a line and now there's no turning back.
Chapter 1
Ivy
I'd rather be someplace else.
Yet, here I am in a room full of people I've never met while wearing a dress that hugs me a little too tight. But I'm supposed to smile and be pleasant, so I do. I pull my shoulders back and force a closed-lip grin onto my face.
With a deep breath, I run my palms over my stomach and inch further inside. I almost declined tonight. But how would that look? Not too pretty if I had to guess. I am new here after all, and when the Dean of the university you'll be working for insists you attend the faculty Christmas party—you do.
You put on your happy face, and you mingle, even if that means stuffing yourself into a pair of Spanx and heels that hurt more than they feel good.
"Ivy, right?" Someone approaches, his hand already extended.
I shuffle my drink into my other hand, raise a brow, and accept his gesture. He's tall and nice-looking but in the creepy neighbor type of way. Sucking air into my lungs, I push my immediate impression of him to the back of my mind, working hard to be unfazed by the aggression in his handshake. Overly eager and sweaty is how I'd describe him.
"Oh, hi. Yes, I am Ivy. And you are?" I ask and subtly massage my wrist from how hard he shook my hand.
"Emmett. Emmett Purington, Physics. We weren't expecting you until after the holiday break." He points and brings his champagne flute to his lips. "Did you come alone?" he inquires and glances around as he does.
Intrusive much, I think to myself, my back stiffening at his question. But I choose niceties and push my desire to tell him it's none of his business out of my mind. So another smile it is; number two-hundred and something for the evening. He continues to ramble, blind to the fact that I've now put my attention on my watch.
"It was supposed to be after the break. But, Dean Murphy thought a faculty Christmas party would be the best time to introduce me to everyone."
"You are faculty." He wiggles his brows and takes another sip.
An awkward chuckle leaves me, and then I bury my expression behind the rim of my drink.
"What do you teach again?" he pivots to stand next to me.
"Criminology," I answer proudly.
"Serial killers are your specialty, right?"
He points again, and I realize it's his quirk—something I'm sure he feels makes him look cool. Great! Another guy attempting to hang on to his youth. I nod, already wanting to escape this conversation.
I feel out of place here. Especially considering moving to this city wasn't something I necessarily wanted for myself. But I'm here, and the only thing to do about that now is to embrace it. Besides, Dean Murphy met all of my financial demands. I'd be happy about that if it weren't for the fact it was all in favor of Jerry.
"Why serial killers?" Emmett furrows his brows again, tilting his head out of curiosity.
"Why Physics?"
I change the subject, much like I always do when this question comes up. My entire career, people have stared at me the way Emmett is at this moment. Everyone is always curious about the Black woman who's obsessed with mass murderers. Or maybe it's the fact I'm a woman all together? There aren't many in my field of work, not professors, anyway.
"It was nice to meet you, Emmett. If you would excuse me, I need to make a call." I step off before he has a chance to offer a rebuttal.
Rechecking my watch, I notice how late he is. Resentment is already spreading through me like a disease. He's the reason I'm here. The reason I've left my family and friends behind. The least he could do is to be at this depressingly stuck-up event.
I dig my phone out from my wristlet, my disappointment thickening when I see there are no messages from him. People sway around me as I walk blindly to the furthest corner of the room. I'm not paying attention to where I'm going, grunting when I run into someone.
"I'm—" I pause for a beat, drawing in a breath when I make eye contact with the tall, obviously young man whose chest is flush against mine. "Sorry." I swallow a shaky breath, pushing away the thought of how attractive he is.
He's just as out of place as me, in a pair of black joggers and an oversized t-shirt with the potent smell of weed coming off him. The boy stares at me for a beat, a hand lingering on my waist to keep me from losing my balance. Then he drags his gaze over my frame, licking his lips when he meets my eyes again.
"All good."
He moves me, so my back is to the door. It only lasts for a second, but for some reason, it feels a bit longer. Another staff member strolls past us, the brief distraction jogging my memory.
I give him a forced smile and step backward into the hall, turning when I reach the threshold. My phone feels heavy in my hands, but I forge forward anyway and scroll through my contact for his number. My eyes involuntary close, and I take a moment before dialing him.