His Sugar Baby (12 page)

He entered her tight heat without preliminaries, his swollen cock throbbing. He groaned at the silken feel of her surrounding him. He felt her sharp nails rake his back through his T-shirt. Michael cursed and dropped his head to nip one of her turgid nipples through blouse and bra. She cried out yet clutched him tighter. Folding his arms tightly around her, he lunged deeper into her hot liquid center, over and over.

Winter writhed under him. Her long supple legs wrapped around his waist, her locked heels digging into his flexing buttocks. Again, again, again, and again, faster harder, until he was driving her body across the rug. Sweat slicked him. Air sawed out of his lungs. “
Oh God, oh God! Winter
!” His heavy balls slapped noisily against her ass. His cock swelled, exploding. He gave himself over to the pleasurable mindlessness, throwing back his head, a tortured shout bursting from his throat. Michael fell forward heavily on top of her then rolled to the side. His body was utterly spent. His heart hammered, and he couldn’t immediately catch his breath.

When the fierce coupling was over, Winter sat up beside him and calmly pulled her clothing back together. Michael watched her, an uneasy feeling stirring inside of him. He couldn’t believe that she hadn’t been as physically affected as he had been.

He propped himself up on his elbow, taking care to guard his expression. There was something brittle about her, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. She bent forward and slipped on her pumps. He reached out to catch her slim wrist when she started to rise. “Winter, will you come back?”

“I have to work tomorrow.” She didn’t look at him. She had averted her face. Her tumbled auburn curls fell across the angle of her smooth cheek, hiding her expression from his intent gaze.

Slowly, Michael drew in his breath and let it out again. What the hell was she thinking? Why wouldn’t she talk to him or even look at him? “So do I. But afterward, come back to the house. I’ll grill steaks out by the pool. The weather will be good. You can bring your swimsuit.”

“Sure, Michael.” With a tug, she pulled free and rose lithely to her feet. Still not looking him in the face, she walked out of the room.

Michael didn’t move. He heard her heels clicking on the granite tile in the entry. He heard the front door open then shut. Heavy silence surrounded him. He slowly balled his hand into a fist, and he hit the thick rug with a sharp blow. Then he rolled over onto his back, throwing an arm across his eyes. His T-shirt stuck to his sweaty chest, his briefs and jeans were twisted around his knees, his privates were exposed to the cool air and God’s eyes, and none of it mattered.

She was slowly, inexorably, driving him insane.

Chapter Ten

As Michael had hoped, his suggestion of getting together again after work served as a means to re-cement his relationship with Winter. He did not push her into having sex. Instead, he went out of his way to make their time together companionable. On a gas grill out by the pool, he grilled chicken breasts and summer vegetables for their meal and served cold margaritas. He was pleased when she responded to his attempts at conversation. She gave every indication of enjoying simply being in his company. As the hot evening waned, he became cautiously confident that Winter had thought better about her decision to break up with him.

They were relaxing after taking a swim when his cell rang. He picked it up and looked at the caller ID. “Excuse me, Winter. I need to take this.” He flipped open the phone. “Hello! How are you, John? No, no, that’s fine. I’ve got the file here at the house. Just give me a minute to get to my office.” He mimed to Winter that he would be back soon, and she nodded. He opened the French door and stepped through it, his attention already focused on the call. “Sure, I understand. It’s not a problem.”

When his call was completed, Michael padded barefoot back through the house to return to the patio. He had just stepped through the open French door when he overheard Winter talking on her phone.

“Rick, please.”

Caught by the tension in Winter’s voice, Michael paused mid step. Frowning slightly, he looked across the few feet that separated them. Her head was bowed, and she was sitting sideways in profile to him so that she had not yet seen him. She was doubled over, intent on the phone pressed to her ear. A shaft of jealousy stabbed him. Whoever the man was, he was important to her.

“For God’s sake, Rick, she’s your
daughter
. I know—No, no!
Listen
, please! Rick! Rick?”

Michael watched as she slowly shut the cell and then just sat there, holding it in loose fingers. There was a forlorn appearance to her drooping posture that made him uncomfortable. Then he saw a tear slide and drop from the curve of her cheek. Suddenly, fiercely, he wanted to throttle the man that she had been talking to.
What a bastard, giving her grief over their daughter!
The savagery of his thoughts startled him. What the hell did any of it have to do with him?

Michael silently retreated. He waited a beat, then began speaking as he walked forward again. “Sorry about that. It was an international call.”

Winter hastily swiped at her cheeks and dropped her sunglasses into place before she turned her head toward him. Her dark sunglasses covered the expression in her eyes, but he saw that she had pasted a smile on her face. He pretended not to see her drop her cell into the canvas bag that was sitting next to her chaise lounge.

“I’m guessing it was your new client. Everything all right?” she asked brightly. There was only a bit of huskiness in her voice to hint at her emotions.

Good girl.
He was relieved that she wasn’t going to parade her baggage. He already knew that she was a single mother and that she had a young daughter named Chloe. Apparently her ex—this asshole Rick—was giving her problems. It probably had something to do with visitation rights or child support. Probably child support, he amended, which would explain why she needed the money that she was getting from him.

Michael frowned. He couldn’t imagine himself fighting over a child or refusing to meet his financial obligations for a child that was his. Old dark places opened up inside of him. Michael caught himself up short. He would not go there, now or ever. Whatever Winter’s situation was, it had nothing to do with him or their relationship, he reminded himself.

“Everything is fine. The proposal will go forward as planned.” Michael straddled the chaise lounge beside hers and sat down on it. He reached down for the drink he had left and lifted the glass. The condensation on the glass was cold to his fingers, the liquor biting on his tongue.

“I’m glad.” Winter’s polite response sounded distracted to his alert ears. She didn’t appear to have anything else to add. Silence fell as she faced the clear-blue expanse of the pool. The oak trees rustled in a puff of breeze, casting long shadows over the water with the slowly setting sun.

The silence lengthened. Winter methodically smoothed on another coat of suntan lotion. He watched her.

Michael frowned. He turned the frosted glass round and round between his fingers. He disliked knowing that her thoughts were fixed on something else, especially someone else in her personal life, when she was with him. It was not what he was paying her for, he thought, disgruntled. She was his sugar baby. She was supposed to provide companionship to him when they were together, not be thinking about an asshole of an ex-husband. “Winter.”

She gave a perceptible start. Winter turned her head, the dark expanses of her sunglasses reflecting the waning light. “I’m sorry. Did you say something, Michael?”

He tightened his jaw. That does it, he thought grimly. He was not going to sit here and let her waste their remaining time together. He should send her home now. Her mind was obviously too preoccupied for her to fully appreciate the effort he had made to be conciliating. He had intended a leisurely, relaxing time of sun and swimming and sex. He had never liked just climbing on top of a warm body to get his rocks off. He liked his partner to be fully engaged. It was far more satisfying for both of them.

If he was going to salvage his plans, he needed to reengage her attention. A novel idea flashed through his mind. He said slowly, “I want you to do something for me, Winter.” The fantasy he was structuring in his imagination was already stirring his body, wiping away his irritation.

Winter shrugged as she smiled over at him. “Okay.”

“I want you to go upstairs to the bedroom. I want you to take the chair from beside the bed and place it in the middle of the room with its back to the door. Then I want you to find something to blindfold yourself with, sit down in the chair, and wait for me.” He waited, curious to see her reaction to his suggestion. She was sitting immobile, seemingly frozen, her face still turned in his direction. He could not see her eyes through the dark lens of the sunglasses, but he could see the quickened pulse beating strongly in her throat. She was definitely refocused on him.

After a moment, she asked quietly, “What are you going to do?”

Michael narrowed his eyes. He smiled, deliberately using his business-bastard smile. “You have ten minutes, Winter.”

Without saying another word, she got up and walked inside. He looked down. She had left her canvas bag beside the chaise lounge, so he felt fairly confident that she hadn’t got up just to leave.

Michael glanced at his wrist watch to mark the time and settled more comfortably in the chaise lounge. She wasn’t thinking about her problems with the ex now, he thought with satisfaction. He tasted his drink, rolling the liquor over his tongue, and put his head back. He slowly finished the drink, a couple of times checking his watch.

When the ten minutes were up, Michael discarded his wet swim trunks. His thickened penis hung heavy between his thighs. He stooped to snag up the large bottle of suntan lotion lying beside Winter’s deserted chaise. She had used it generously on her pale-skinned body. He strolled into the house, his anticipation ratcheting up, along with his shaft.

When he stepped across the bedroom threshold, he abruptly stopped. He sucked in his breath, amazed. Winter had done exactly what he had told her. She was sitting in the chair, her narrow back partially to him, and she had found his silk winter scarf to tie over her eyes. She sat stiffly upright, her slender hands resting on her knees, her long bare legs pressed together. Her head was tilted on one side as though she was listening. Michael looked at the way her plump full breasts jutted out, how they quivered with every one of her quickened breaths. Her beauty made him ache. At the appealing picture she made, Michael felt his semierection lengthen and rise toward his belly.

It had never occurred to him before to play games with Winter. Maybe that was part of the allure, he acknowledged to himself honestly. He was aware that she always withheld part of herself from their relationship. There was always something at her core that he could not touch. He had liked that about her from the first, that distance she maintained despite the intimate nature of their relationship. He had initially congratulated himself, believing that she would not easily succumb to the temptation of developing any emotional ties. He preferred lack of drama in his relationships. When it became time, it would make for an easy ending.

However, Winter’s ability to distance herself had become a doubled-edged sword. He was more attracted to her than was good for him. It was beginning to bother him, in just a small way, that he wasn’t able to completely understand her. If she had displayed more of her feelings to him, he would have been more confident of holding her. He would know what made her tick, what made her the woman that she was. He told himself that he shouldn’t complain. She didn’t bring drama or baggage to their times together. At least, not until today, he amended. But he rather thought that he could make her forget for awhile longer this evening. Maybe a game would give him the edge that he felt he needed.

Lust was already a raging fire in him. His engorged cock visibly pulsed. He wanted to take her right then, but he forced control over himself. This fantasy was nowhere near being finished. And he hadn’t decided yet on the denouement.

Michael walked forward, his bare feet sinking silently into the thick pile carpet.

* * * *

While she waited for Michael, Winter couldn’t stop her thoughts returning to the phone call she had made. As soon as Michael disappeared through the French doors, she had dug her own cell out of her bag. She had felt frozen inside, ever since the talk with Chloe’s doctor, but just being with Michael yesterday, and again this evening, had partially thawed her paralysis. She was able to think again. She had been in a fever of impatience to reach her ex-husband
.
She had a rough idea of his schedule, and since it was Friday after the workday, she knew she could probably catch him. The sweat had trickled down her bare back as she had pressed the numbers with trembling fingers while she kept telling herself that he would agree to help Chloe. When the call connected, and she heard his familiar voice, her belly had clenched with a sickening nervousness. The call hadn’t gone well.

She shook herself free of the fresh wash of despair. She couldn’t afford to sink into panic, not now. She had to be strong and keep her mind clear so she could figure out what options were left to Chloe. Whatever Michael had planned would help distract her, she thought.

Her ears suddenly caught something, like a deeply in-drawn breath. Winter listened intently, but she heard nothing after that single sharp inhalation. Then all of a sudden he was there, behind her. She could hear his slow, steady breathing and feel the heat radiating from his body. He blew on the back of her neck, causing the tiny hairs at her nape to stand up. She involuntarily shivered.