His Sugar Baby (4 page)

“That’s it. Let me hear you. Tell me what you like, Winter.” His voice was rougher.

* * * *

Michael grasped both of her breasts, squeezing and kneading with his fingers. He blew on a moistened nipple and gently bit the hard, beaded peak. She jerked under him.
God, she’s responsive!
His cock swelled harder, uncomfortable against his metal zipper. He looked up into her taut face. She was biting her lips. She was holding back. He could sense it. She didn’t want to let loose and just let things happen. Not once since moving to the sofa had she touched him. That clued him that she might still call an end to the evening. She had not yet committed herself to the night, let alone to the long-term arrangement that he wanted. And he did want it. Badly.

Michael shackled her slender wrists with one hand and raised them together over her head, holding them against the cushion. Her eyes opened, hazy alarm in their depths. Her lips parted, and he dipped his head to take her mouth, shutting off anything she might have been about to say. The taste of her wine-laden lips was intoxicating. He slipped his tongue in for a deeper kiss. He devoured her mouth, his tongue possessively stroking inside, mimicking an erotic rhythm. She opened her mouth wider and sucked in his tongue. With his free hand, he palmed a plump breast and with his thumb nail flicked the pebbled nipple again and again. With every abrasion of his thumb, she jerked as though electric shocks were running through her. Suddenly he pinched the hard peak between his thumb and forefinger. A guttural moan caught in her throat. Her body suddenly began to shudder uncontrollably. Her wrists strained against his hold, and her whole body twisted.

Michael lifted his head and looked down into her flushed face. He was stunned. He had never had a woman come so hard with so little effort on his part. His cock throbbed. The thought curled into his impassioned mind that she would probably come again, several times, before the night was done.

He eased himself up, letting go of her wrists. She lay limply, her breath quick and shallow. Her arms remained resting above her head, tilting up her full, bare breasts. She was beautiful in her abandoned, open position. He slipped off her shoes and slid a palm up one smooth calf. She stiffened with the feel of his hand on her leg. Her arms started to come down defensively. He snagged her wrists again, bearing them firmly back over her head. He nuzzled her breasts with his face, beginning a slow exploration of them with his mouth, lips, tongue. She arched, thrusting her breasts higher. A breathy moan left her.

He knew something of what turned her on now. On his knees beside the sofa, he began a sensuous feast. He suckled each breast, lightly blew and bit, and she began writhing, pushing herself fuller into his mouth. Her breath quickened, her chest rising and falling in small pants. He held her wrists still pinned above her head. His other hand made slow circles on her calves, curling around her soft thighs and brushing back down, then up again, each pass pushing her skirt higher until a glimpse of her white panties gleamed in the dim light. He tightly cupped her pubis through the thin cotton, the heel of his hand rubbing against her clitoris. She writhed under his ministrations.

Michael sucked one breast deeper into his mouth. Firmly, his tongue depressed the hard bud of her nipple against the roof of his mouth. He pulled. She came up off the sofa, a high thin scream ripping from her throat. Pinned by his hands, one at her wrists and the other at the juncture of her thighs, her body formed a quivering tension bridge for several seconds before she collapsed. She did not move, only her shallow breathing showing that she was alive.

He was sweating. His breath rasped as he dragged air into his lungs. God, she was driving him to the brink. He didn’t know how much longer he could maintain control. His cock was a rigid steel rod, throbbing painfully. He stood up to swiftly divest himself of his clothes. He tore open a condom to sheath himself. Then he unzipped her skirt and pulled it and her underpants down, lifting her buttocks to slide the garments off her legs. Her body was limp, heavy in its bonelessness. He didn’t need to feel her with his fingers to know that she was ready. He knelt on the sofa, nudging her legs apart with his thigh. Grasping her hips, he pulled her up, held her steady, and slowly pushed into her heat.

Michael inhaled harshly. It was excruciating. She was tight and wet. Instinctively he flexed his hips. A low mewl escaped her. The sexy sound fueled his desire. His fingers dug into her hips. He wanted to plunge wildly, but he held himself still. His entire body shook from the strain. The blood drummed in his temples. In a harsh voice that he barely recognized as his own, he ground out, “You can stop it, Winter. You can still stop it.” Her eyes flared open, blankly, revealing the black of her pupils dilated.

He eased out slowly, then partially back in. He felt her shudder. His cock was rock-hard, aching. “Tell me what you want, Winter!” He pulled out slowly then pushed forward only until he reached that same spot that had made her shudder. “Tell me to stop! Now!” Again he made the tortuous shallow stroke. Again, again. His straining muscles quivered. Corded bands stood out on his neck.

* * * *

Through the daze that held her, Cathy heard and dimly understood what he was demanding of her. She felt her inner muscles contract with each slick, heavy movement stroking of the same spot building an inferno inside her. Almost panicked, she felt the fiery unaccustomed pleasure pooling again. Incandescent warmth flashed through her body, flushing her skin with perspiration. She felt as though she was melting. Spirals of heat slowly rose, suffusing her being with fever. Foreign pressure built. Her whole body tightened. Her breath hitched in her throat. It was unbearable.

“Tell me to stop, Winter!”

Stroke, stroke. Her body began to bow under the exquisite torture. She flung back her head. Her writhing fingers clawed into the cushions. She choked out the words. “
No!
No, don’t stop!”

Michael grunted. He breathed harshly above her, pushed himself deep. Winter felt the unfamiliar pressure, the fullness of blood-hot flesh, stretching her, burning her. Then the thick pulsing heat seated inside her began to move, slowly at first, then faster, harder. Something exploded in her mind, in her body. Passion torched her. White heat rocketed through her core, carrying her into freefall with the sparks of a comet’s tail following her down. Then the brilliance flickered out, and it was black.

* * * *

“Winter.”

Disturbed by the unfamiliar summons, she dragged her eyes open. Groping heavily through groggy confusion, she blinked. Faint gray daylight trickled past the edges of navy-blue drapes. The sight of the strange bedroom disoriented her, and she shut her eyes again. She rolled her head on the pillow. Dull pain shot through her skull. She groaned and forced her eyes open.
What the hell happened?

A man stood near the rumpled bed, looking down at her. He was dressed in an expensive shirt and tie and suit. His dark, damp hair glistened. She frowned up at him. She didn’t recognize him.

His eyes were pale ice-blue.

Her memory came crashing back. He had taken her on the sofa. That much she remembered. She must have passed out then. When she had come back to herself, he had somehow brought her into the bedroom, into his bed. He had taken her three more times during the night before allowing her over-stimulated, exhausted body to sleep. She squeezed shut her eyes, willing it all to have been a hallucinatory dream.

“Your clothes are here on the chair. I’ve put fresh towels in the bathroom so you can shower. When you’re ready, come downstairs so that we can talk.” Her eyes snapped open. He walked out of the bedroom and closed the door quietly behind him.

Cathy dragged the tangled mass of hair out of her face. She pushed herself up, and the sheet slipped down, exposing her nakedness. Her body protested even that small movement. Her head pounded with hangover. She was sore all over. Her dulled gaze fell on her clothes. The clothes that had been scattered all over downstairs. The clothes that were now stacked neatly on the chair beside the bed.

The sense of unreality that still fogged her mind cleared with brutal suddenness. She covered her face with trembling hands and rocked back and forth. She was surrounded by his male scent and the smell of sex. Her sensitized body still felt the imprint of his mouth, his hands, the stroke of his hard thick shaft.

She heated with embarrassment. God, what had she done? It couldn’t all be put down to the wine she had drunk. He had played her body as a maestro would play a familiar instrument, drawing the most sublime responses from her.

She had never experienced such sex in her life. She had never orgasmed when intimate with her ex-husband. Yet in a single night with a stranger… She couldn’t bear to think about it. Not right then. Not when that same stranger was waiting for her downstairs.

Cathy threw back the sheet, anxious to break free of the vivid memories of the past several hours. She clumsily snatched up her clothing and stumbled into the bathroom.

After showering and dressing in her crumpled clothing and shoes, she grabbed her purse and went downstairs. She tentatively tiptoed through the area, glancing into the rooms that she passed. She eventually came to the kitchen at the back of the house. She discovered Michael at breakfast. She hesitated in the doorway, feeling acutely self-conscious and uncertain.

Michael did not appear to suffer from the same awkwardness. When he looked up and saw her, he invited her to join him at the table. “I didn’t know what you would like. There’s fresh coffee, fruit and kolaches.”

Cathy seated herself with a murmur of thanks. She was too keyed up to be hungry, but if she was doing something as normal as eating maybe she could get through the uncomfortable experience of facing the man who had given her the most erotic night of her life.

Cathy put a couple of the warm pastries on a plate. Then she poured herself a cup of coffee from the carafe. Her hands were trembling, and the hot liquid splashed over the rim of her cup. She flushed, hoping that he had not noticed.

If he did, he chose not to comment on her clumsiness. “I’m leaving for my office shortly, so I will be brief. I have already arranged for a taxi for you. It will arrive before long. This is for you because we are in one another’s company right now.”

* * * *

Michael laid a hundred-dollar bill beside her plate. He studied her face, gauging her state of mind. He did not allow his own expression to give away any hint of his thoughts. He said quietly, very deliberately, “I enjoyed my time with you, Winter. I want to meet with you again, the sooner the better depending on our schedules.”

Her face flamed. She dropped her gaze to the hundred-dollar bill. She held her body stiffly, defensively, and one of her hands curled into a fist. He waited silently, watching the conflicting emotions on her face. When she looked up again, she said abruptly, “I can’t meet you every day.”

“I believe I made clear how much time I require of you each week.” Michael picked up his coffee cup and carried it to his lips. He was careful not to allow the satisfaction he felt at her implied acquiescence to appear in his expression. He had seen the war of emotions in her eyes at dinner last night and again now in her frowning expression. He wanted to do nothing that would strengthen her indecision. Winter was exciting in bed, and he wanted her to stay in his. Already the lust was curling through his belly, his shaft beginning to swell.

Last night he had held her wrists together in his hand, giving her the illusion that he was overpowering her and her ability to make a different choice than the one she ultimately had. In the same way his instincts told him how to close a business deal, he knew that stating his firm expectations about their sexual liaison would help her to salve her conscience. She could delude herself that he was to blame for the course she had decided on. The challenge of eventually bringing her to accept that it had been her decision, and only hers, to become his bedmate only added zest to the situation.

“Then you’ll have to clarify for me the three thousand a month.” Her beautiful hazel eyes were narrowed as she gazed at him. Her lips were tight, and there was a hostile note in her voice.

Michael was unsurprised by her antagonism. It was all part of securing the deal.
She’s going to take it.
His feeling of satisfaction intensified. The corner of his mouth edged up. “Fair enough. I will direct deposit three thousand dollars into your bank account on the first of each month, dependent upon the ongoing nature of our arrangement. Until then, I will give you a hundred dollars whenever we are together.”

* * * *

Cathy looked away from his steady regard. His ice-blue eyes were unreadable. If only she just wasn’t so desperate. She struggled with herself, against her need, and she lost. Feeling utterly defeated, she said, “I will e-mail my bank information.”

He nodded. “We can iron out the details of our next meeting at a later time. Are you ever free during work hours?”

“My work schedule can be flexible, yes,” she admitted warily. She was reluctant to cede any more to him than she had already relinquished, but things were moving so quickly that it was difficult to process what she should say.

“Good. Most of our time together will be in the evenings, but on occasion when my schedule allows I might want to meet during the work day. Communicating through e-mail alone is inherently cumbersome. Do you have a cell number?”

“I do.” Cathy thought about the kind of calls that she routinely received from the hospital and from work. “I’d rather not use my cell for this.”