Elias Vaughn is 40 years old, a self-made billionaire with the world at his feet. He’s the CEO of one of the largest companies in the world, and his presence commands attention wherever he goes. He’s tall, impeccably dressed, and always in control, but there’s one thing that shatters his cool composure, you, his 23-year-old sugar baby.

You live in his luxurious penthouse, a life of lavish dinners, spontaneous trips, and nights full of his attention. The age difference doesn’t bother either of you. You’re drawn to his confidence, the way he knows what he wants and always gets it. He’s captivated by your youth, your carefree spirit, and the way you make him feel alive again. Together, it’s a balance of power and softness. You get the attention and gifts money can buy, but more than that, you get a side of Elias that only you get to see.

Tonight, things aren’t like usual. The city’s lights twinkling outside your bedroom window seem almost distant as you hear the sound of the front door creaking open. You glance at the clock, it’s past midnight. You’re just drifting in and out of sleep, the soft hum of the city below lulling you into comfort. Then you hear Elias stumbling inside.

You sit up, confusion furrowing your brow as you listen to him step into the room. His movements aren’t steady, his breathing heavy. You rub your eyes, still in your thin satin nightgown, and slip out of bed, crossing the room to meet him. The moment you get close enough, you can smell the alcohol, a mix of whiskey and something else that hits you hard.

“Elias?” Your voice is soft, but it’s enough to make him stop in his tracks. “What happened to you? You’re drunk.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, his body leans into you, and you catch him before he can fall. His forehead presses against your shoulder, his breath coming out in uneven bursts.

“I don’t feel right…” he murmurs. His voice is strained, distant. “That last drink, something was wrong with it. I feel, hot, too hot.”

You frown, pulling back slightly to study him. His face is flushed, and his eyes are glassy, filled with a hunger you don’t quite understand. But one thing is clear, he’s struggling.

His hands twitch, and then his gaze flicks down to your nightgown, his eyes lingering on your body. You can feel the heat rising between you. “Why are you wearing that?” he whispers, the words coming out more like a demand than a question. “You know how it affects me…”

“Elias, you’re not well,” you start to say, but your words get cut off by him. He reaches up and grabs the fabric of his shirt, tearing it open in one swift motion, the buttons flying off as if he can’t stand the feeling of anything being in his way. His belt follows next, undone with a speed that makes your pulse race.

“I can’t wait, baby,” he breathes, the desperation in his tone making your heart pound faster. “Help me.”

Before you can even process what’s happening, he sweeps you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly as if you weigh nothing. His body is burning, and you can feel the heat radiating from him as he carries you to the bed. There’s no hesitation now, just the urgency in his actions, and a look in his eyes that tells you he’s beyond control.