His Sugar Baby (19 page)

“Damn you, Winter!” Michael was breathing harshly. His hands were still twisted in her hair. She looked up at him, at the wild look around his eyes and his distended nostrils. “This isn’t the way I wanted it!”

“Isn’t it? My mistake!”

He yanked her up from her knees and threw her onto the bed. Cathy rolled away, but he caught her. He tore off her jeans and thong. He forced his thigh between hers then he pushed inside of her. His hands wrapped over her shoulders for purchase, and there was no finesse with what he did then.

Cathy was glad for his hard-riding possession. She was desperate for him to make her feel, to make her forget who she really was.
I’m Winter! I’m Winter!
Fury still coursed raw through her heated veins. She raked her long nails down his back before digging them deep into the solid muscle of his flexing buttocks. She gloried in his hoarse curses. Raising her head, she turned to bite his forearm, making him flinch. But he didn’t falter in the pounding rhythm between them.

Her muscles began to coil. Liquid heat spiraled tighter and tighter. She started shaking until the unbearable tension broke in crashing waves. She screamed and thrashed. The clenching of her sex triggered his climax. He arched rigidly over her, pumping his hot seed into her womb. Through the roar in her ears, she heard the tortured groan torn from his snarling lips.

He collapsed heavily on top of her, panting rapidly. His weight pressed her into the tangled bedclothes. They were still joined, their bodies slick with sweat. She lay dazed, utterly incapable of coherent thought. All of her rage and resentment were gone. Cathy floated languorously, lost in the lingering warmth.

* * * *

Michael’s heart slammed in his chest. Afraid that he was crushing her, he made a monumental effort to more. He slowly turned over on his back, slipping free of her body. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close so that she lay limply against his side, her head pillowed on his shoulder. There was only the shared rasp of their ragged breathing to break the silence.

Michael moved his flattened hand, almost tenderly, up and down her glistening silken arm. He was totally blown away. He was still feeling neurons spark. The head of his penis throbbed where she had marked him. The bite on his forearm stung, the scratches on his back burned, and he suspected that he had bloody nail punctures on his ass. It was the most intense, hottest sex he had ever experienced, and it was all the more amazing that he had had it with a woman who had been celibate for six years. He had been determined to teach her about her underlying passion, but this afternoon she had schooled him instead. He gave a hoarse, amazed chuckle. “You continue to surprise me, Winter.”

* * * *

Winter.
Her mind snapped back into focus. For the first time since beginning the affair, she wasn’t submerged in her Winter-persona. Cathy stiffened and pushed herself away from him. He didn’t try to stop her when she slid off the bed. She bent, picking up her twisted jeans from the floor.

“No, don’t.” His voice was low.

She turned her head, pushing her hair out of her face. He had pushed himself up on one elbow, his bicep bunched under his weight, and he was watching her with a darkened gaze. His pale eyes glittered like sunlit chips of blue ice. “Don’t get dressed yet. Just your heels.”

Cathy hesitated, feeling resistance tugging at her before she shrugged her bare shoulders. What did a few more minutes matter? She could feel the smear of his semen on her inner thighs. Her pride was already tattered, and her sense of self-worth was fast approaching zero. It was her own fault. She had let herself come to this place that first night. She had agreed to become his paid whore and play toy.

She dropped her jeans and walked across the bedroom toward the open doorway where she had kicked off her shoes. Stooping to retrieve her heels, she slid into them and then straightened to face him. She was completely uncaring that she was nude. Where he was concerned, she had no modestly left.

The two things that she still kept from him were her identity and her heart, she thought, and she would never give those up to him.

She saw that he had scooted up to recline against the headboard, pillows thrust behind his broad back. “What now, Michael?”

“I want you to pack for me.”

She threw up her head in surprise. It was the last thing she might have expected. She recovered quickly, sneering sarcastically, “Like a good little wife?”

She glimpsed something dark flash in Michael’s eyes. His expression became more shuttered while his lips curved in that cold, familiar smile. “Don’t go there, Winter.” The words were clipped and icy. “The suitcase is there. No, don’t move it. You’ll see that I’ve already set out everything either on top of the dresser or on that chair. Pack for me now, Winter.”

The coldness in his face, in his voice, unnerved her. For the first time, she felt the faintest stir of—It wasn’t fear, precisely, but more like uneasiness. Stiffly, she started to do what she was told.

She made more than one trek from the dresser to the suitcase, carrying jeans and briefs. As she bent over to arrange the clothing in the suitcase, she chanced to glance over at Michael. His gaze was fastened on her swaying breasts. He was lightly stroking himself, his new erection already thick. She must have made some soft sound because his eyes lifted to hers, his gaze bold and direct.

Heat sizzled between them.

Breaking their locked glances, Cathy spun swiftly. That was when she caught sight of the naked reflection of herself, the open suitcase, and Michael braced up on pillows on the bed in the dresser mirror. She realized that he had been watching her in the mirror, bending over to expose her sex to him, while he enjoyed the front view.

She was stunned.
That damned methodical IT mind.
He had deliberately planned the placement of the suitcase so that he could enjoy his own private peep show! That was why he had not wanted her to move it closer to the dresser.

Cathy braced her hands on her lower back and stretched, her breasts lifting and her butt arched upward. From the corner of her eye, she watched him in the mirror.
Oh yeah. He definitely reacted.
A thread of amusement wove through her indignation.
Well, this can work both ways, now can’t it?

Pretending ignorance, Cathy swung her hips a little more, swaggering on the heels as she made another trip with his undershirts and dress shirts. She set her stance wider as she bent over. Without raising her eyes from her task, she listened for, and heard with great satisfaction, Michael’s swift intake of breath. She hid her smile and felt herself slip into Winter’s skin as though it was a comfortable shirt.

When she went back to the dresser, she stood with her back to him but left his view of the mirror clear. She picked up a tightly rolled pair of dark socks. Pressing her breasts together with one hand, she moved the socks slowly, up and down, between the tight valley of her breasts. She watched as Michael began fisting himself. She dropped the socks and deliberately tapped a nail against the surface of the mirror. When his gaze swung up to meet hers, she gave a knowing smile. Satisfied with her little triumph, she scooped up the pairs of socks and walked back to toss them into the suitcase. “You’re packed.”

Michael was off the bed in an instant, his heavy shaft bobbing deeply. He kept his eyes trained on her as he lifted a foil packet to his teeth and ripped it open. He spread the condom down over his distended cock, never once losing eye contact with her.

He backed her across the room with his body until her bare buttocks bumped lightly against the dresser. “Turn around and put your hands on the dresser, Winter.” His voice rasped low and deep.

She swallowed, feeling excitement pooling in her stomach. Slowly, she turned her back on him. She grasped each side of the dresser top. Her earlier anger had completely dissolved, leaving only the craving that she always felt when she was with him.

“Bend over for me, baby.”

Winter adjusted her stance, glancing over her shoulder. Michael stood behind her, admiring her curves with that hot glitter in his pale eyes. Edging over the slope of her bottom, she could see the broad reddened head of his rigid erection. She shuddered, anticipation zinging through her veins. Her breath quickened. She faced forward again, watching the mirrored reflection of his avid expression.

Michael reached out to palm her bottom with both hands, his fingers flexing. The heat of his spread hands branded her. “God, you have a beautiful ass.” She felt his brief kneading before he pushed the firm cheeks apart and one hand slipped down between her quivering thighs.

She gasped when his clever fingers circled her clit and slid over her dampening pussy in slow circles. She watched in the mirror while he did it, mesmerized by the flicking movements of his strong wrist and his dipping fingers. The heat welled from deep inside of her, flushing her body. Her heart beat erratically. He was torching her body. He knew just how to do it. She became mindless with pleasure when she was with him. It was exactly what she wanted, what she needed.

* * * *

Michael looked up to meet her widening, dilating gaze in the mirror. “You’re becoming a cock tease. And you like it, don’t you, Winter?” He smiled when her eyes flickered away from his. With the hand lying on her hip, he pressed the pad of his thumb firmly against the tight ring of her ass, gently rimming the sensitive area with his blunt nail.

He was rewarded when Winter snatched a quick inhale. Her eyes flew back to their mirrored reflections, colliding with his gaze. She had expressed her dislike of the idea of anal penetration. True to his word, Michael had not pushed her into anything that made her uncomfortable, but sometimes, as now, he played with her, and it was incredibly hot. He held her gaze and shifted his hand. He pushed the knuckle of his middle finger gently back and forth against her tight back channel. She fluttered another breath. He watched as her eyes slid shut, and her face tightened with pleasure.

For a few moments, he plucked her clit while he continued to play with her ass. He couldn’t take his gaze off of her flushed reflection. She was an incredible, sublime image of warm, living erotica. Her mouth parted slightly, and he saw the tip of her tongue flick across her bottom lip. He felt his cock jerk in response. She was breathing sharply, shallowly. She bumped her hips in unconscious rhythm with the working of his hands. He took fierce satisfaction in being able to bring her to the edge.

He abandoned her engorged clit to push a finger up into her vagina, putting pressure on the most sensitive spot. He curved his finger and firmly stroked down, once more, and again. Winter bit her lip, stifling a moan. He smiled down at her and murmured, “Tell me that you’re going to miss me.”

Winter curved her spine helplessly. “You shouldn’t—shouldn’t ask that!”

Michael pushed two fingers inside of her and set up a steady languorous rhythm. She was incredibly hot and slick, her juices coating his digits. His blood fired hotter. He pushed his knuckle deeper into her ass, and her rounded bottom arched up, bumping his throbbing erection. Under the slow counter-movements of his hands, she shuddered again. He gritted his teeth, pleasure and yearning clutching at his chest while he watched her. “Admit that you’ll miss me,” he whispered.

She shook her head hard. Her thick springy curls whipped forward to hide her face. Her fingers whitened where she gripped the dresser. “No! I won’t!”

The tightness in his chest exploded with an odd pain. He swore. He left off fingering her to grasp her hips with both hands. “Tell me that you’ll miss me!
Miss this!
” He shafted her deep in one long stroke.

Winter gave a cry. She flung up her head before dropping it forward again. He rocked back then drove in again so hard that her knees banged against the front of the dresser. With a sob, she braced her elbows. He slid a banded arm tight around her waist to hold her while he took her faster. The slap of flesh was audible. He fisted his fingers in her hair and pulled up her head so that she faced the mirror.

“Look at me, Winter!” he panted. “Look at us!”

She opened her eyes, and their darkened gazes locked. He knew that she saw his flushed, passion-filled, wild expression while he ground into her. She saw her own face. And her expression was just as wild.

* * * *

Afterward, she drove him to the airport in the Lexus. He insisted that she park and come inside with him. She could go no farther than the security gate, where he set down his carry-on. He drew her into his arms to kiss her good-bye. She did not know what she expected, but it certainly wasn’t the gentle, thorough kiss that he gave her. Just like what any man would give to his wife or his girlfriend, she thought vaguely.

She felt herself melt against him, her pliant body fitting close against his. She curled her hands around his strong neck, burrowing her fingers in the short hairs at his nape. Breathing in his crisp, masculine scent, she clung to him until he released her.

One of his hands smoothed her riotous curls back from her face before slipping down to cup the side of her face. His thumb brushed her cheek then slipped away. “I’ll call you when I get back into town,” he said softly. He bent to pick up his carry-on and briskly walked away to join the queue at the security gate.

Cathy let him go from her without uttering a word. Her heart beat heavily in her breast. She waited and watched to be certain. He did not look back at her.