His Sugar Baby (15 page)

She saw Michael’s mouth curl in another smile. His questing fingers dipped between her nether lips, and suddenly it didn’t matter what had made Michael question her. Her pulse leaped again but not with unease. She opened her legs wider for him. Finding her clit, he stroked her there then dipped his hand lower to slide into her wet warmth to find a peculiarly sensitive spot. Her body clenched on his slowly working fingers. She hissed in her breath, watching him play with her. The eroticism of it only heightened her ardor. She wasn’t the only one affected, she saw. His cock visibly thickened again. This was what she cared about, she thought through the swiftly rising haze of lust.
Only this.

Michael sat up. Winter watched him through half-closed eyes as he swiftly replaced the used condom with a new one. Her breath quickened. She touched her tongue to her lips, wetting them.

* * * *

Squatting on his heels, Michael hooked his hands behind her knees and pulled her beautiful rear up into his lap. Her pale body curved down the length of his thighs. Her shoulders rested on the mattress, her round breasts tilted up and pointed at the ceiling. He wedged himself between her silken thighs and with one hand fed himself slowly into her. Winter made that whispery, breathy noise that he had come to expect and want from her. God, he loved to hear her whimper.

When he was fully seated, his shaft was throbbing so hard it ached. He slid his arms under her shoulders and lifted her. His pulsing cock pushed deeper yet, the heated, damp sheath tightening round it, and he growled out pleasure. Her legs wrapped around his back, her ankles pressing into him above his buttocks. He smoothed one arm down her back to her waist and arched her spine. Winter braced her arms under her, flattening her hands on either side of his thighs on the mattress.

He dipped his head to take one of her ripe breasts into his mouth. Gently, he sucked and pulled on it, using his teeth and lips. She bucked against his belly, the crest of her other breast brushing his cheek. An indistinguishable sound hummed in her throat. He allowed the turgid nipple to pop out of his mouth. He blew on the wet tip, and she shuddered.

By now, he knew just what turned her on, just as he knew that she still pretended to be there, under him, with him, as a coerced participant. He didn’t pander much anymore to that illusion of hers, rarely catching hold of her wrists as he had in the beginning. He hadn’t tied her again, either. He wanted—no, craved—her to touch him out of her own volition. She did, once she was driven to orgasm, but only then. Now, today, Michael meant to break her lingering inhibition.

He shifted his hips, and the slight twist of motion made her catch her breath. He smiled down at her, at the lovely rosy flush under her pale skin. “Ah, Winter. I’m going to make you work for it this time.”

“What are you talking about? What do you mean?” She drew her chin up into her chest so that she could warily look up into his eyes.

He dipped his head to her other breast. Taking as much of the soft flesh into his mouth as possible, he sucked and pulled harder. She bowed, quivering against him. She moaned. Her head fell backward, her bright hair brushing the sheet. Her fingers clenched in the sheets, bunching the silk.

She was impaled by him, surrounded by him. Michael let go of her breast. He gave that slight twist of his hips again. Again she whimpered. “Tell me what you want, Winter. Tell me with your hands.” He pulled out of her, eased her body down to the mattress, and slid his hands back under her buttocks. He levered her up at a sharper angle, braced his forearms on his thighs, his hands still full of her ass. Her spread knees pressed against his corded biceps. He looked down at her plumped glistening slit, and desire slammed him so hard that his breath hitched in his chest. He pushed himself back into her, penetrating hardly deeper than the swollen head of his shaft before coming back out. He stroked her like that, shallow and short, like he had that very first night. Over and over, deliberately caressing her G-spot. He gritted his teeth. It was sheer torture not to plunge the full length of his thick cock back into her, but he wanted her insane for him first.

* * * *

“Oh, God.” She threw her head back, her eyes closed tightly against the white lights that were beginning to go off behind her eyelids. She clenched her hands in the bedclothes. He was stroking liquid fire, higher and higher. She was straining upward, carried by the flames. Then the exquisite sensation abruptly stopped. It was like rushing up on a roller coaster and not quite reaching the pinnacle before sliding backward. She mewed in frustration. “Don’t stop, Michael! Please, don’t stop!”

The short, sharp stroke started again, pushing her back up. “Yes!
Yes!
” She was burning up, reaching, straining for the plunge. She quivered, on the edge. The pressure-building friction stopped again. She could feel the blunt end of his blood-hot shaft ringed inside of her. Her inner muscles quivered around its unmoving head.

Winter snapped her eyes open and glared up at him. His pale eyes burned back at her from tautened features while his lips were drawn back over his teeth. “No!” she panted. She bucked her hips and felt his shaft slide deeper. A spasm clutched her sheath. “Do it now!”

His fingers bit into her hips, holding her away from his cock. His breath was a harsh rasp. “Tell me with your hands, Winter!”

“I don’t know what you want!”

He didn’t answer her. He only stroked her again, tortuously stopping and starting and stopping. She was dry-sobbing with frustration before he spoke again. He was panting like he had been running for miles as he bit out the words. “Tell me, Winter! With your hands! Touch me, damn you!”

Through her haze of desire, Winter reached up between her legs and collared the base of his hot hard flesh. “Please, Michael! I need this!” she gasped in desperation. “I need you!”

His weight fell on her, crushing her, pushing her forward on the bed. His mouth closed fiercely over hers, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. With a sob, she wound her arms around his neck. As he drove home, she cried out with the exquisite sear of heat inside her.

He took her hard and fast, and Winter gloried in it. It was what she wanted, what she needed. She raked her nails down his back, scoring the skin and heard his swift in-drawn breath. His powerful body jerked in her arms. A fierce exhilaration swept through her. She did it again, her nails raking deeper. He cursed in her ear and drove himself harder into her. She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, and she met him thrust for thrust. The burning heat began to climb, hurtling her forward into the flames. The conflagration leapt high, licking at her nerves, tightening every muscle in her body until it burst free. Shooting over the edge, she cried out, spiraling in blinding free fall.

* * * *

While she was still shuddering, Michael grasped her legs and bent them until her knees were folded close to her shoulders. He leaned forward, using his weight to force his long ridged shaft into her at the steeper angle. She grunted and arched her neck. Rapidly gaining speed with every forceful stroke, Michael pistoned, driving deep to the hilt, his balls slapping her ass. He felt her fingers dig sharply into his shoulders. She was about to come again. He could feel it in the pulsing of her walls. It felt like he was being sucked into her. Her little panted cries urged him on.
“Yes—yes! Do it!”

The top of his head felt like it was going to explode. His laboring lungs bellowed. He lost rhythm, his thrusting becoming frantic—exquisite fiery pressure. A primal roar was wrenched from his corded throat. His rigid body shuddered, his bursting cock erupting inside her. His hips jerked again, again. Utterly spent, he collapsed on top of her. Vaguely he felt her still quivering in the aftermaths of her own orgasm.

Michael rolled tiredly to his side, pulling free of her body. He edged her close to him with her head lying on his shoulder. Her wild hair partially curtained her delicate features, and he brushed the soft mass gently out of her face. She was beautiful with her skin flushed, her reddened lips swollen from his kisses. One of her warm hands was curled on his chest, her fingers twisted in his chest hairs. His heart hammered against his ribs. He could feel the burn of the scratches scored into his back. He was pleasantly dazed by how aggressive she had become. She stunned him. He basked in the sated feeling, aware of their bodies’ sweat-slickened skin, their limbs still entwined. He felt himself sliding into relaxed somnolence.

He dimly heard her clear her throat. “Michael, would you mind if—if sometimes I called you?” There was a tremor in her husky voice. “To set up a time to meet, I mean. Or is that against the rules?”

Instantly, his impending drowsiness dissipated. Surprise held him momentarily silent. He hesitated, turning over the question in his mind to examine it from all angles. He was the initiator in their arrangement. It was something set up for his convenience. Why would she make such a request?

He wondered suddenly whether she was becoming too attached to him, beginning to want an emotional commitment. Something went hard and still in his chest. On the other hand, he argued with himself, her request could work to his advantage. Hadn’t he just decided that he needed to see more of her, at least for the short term, to work his inexplicable lust for her out of his system? If she was starting to get needy and clingy, that would go a long way in extinguishing the unnaturally strong desire that was presently driving him mad.

Finally, he said, “As long as we can work it into both of our schedules, I don’t have a problem with it.” He raised himself up on his elbow so that he could look down into her face. He searched her wide hazel eyes. Idly, he palmed her breast, his thumb caressing the softened nipple. “What’s this really about, Winter?”

She seemed reluctant to reply. Her lashes lowered, hiding her expression from him. “Does it matter?”

Michael frowned and stopped teasing her breast, his fingers spreading to cover its plump warmth. “It might, if you’re becoming too attached to our relationship.”

* * * *

“That isn’t it.” Winter worried her bottom lip with her teeth. She was reluctant to tell him about the panic attacks. He didn’t need to know that much about her, or how she was coming to depend on him as an anchor in the turbulence of her crazy world. He would interpret it as an emotional dependence. It was, but not in the way that he would see it. But she couldn’t fully explain herself to him without saying something about her daughter, and that she would not do. Yet she had to say something plausible, something that he would accept. She finally made up her mind to be as honest with him as she could. She lifted her gaze to meet his dark-browed, frowning expression. “When you called today, I was under a lot of stress. Getting together with you, being with you, helped me.”

Michael looked down at her rather blankly. Then he laughed, the deep sound rumbling in his chest under her fingers. The flash of his grin transformed his expression. Humor glinted in his ice-blue eyes. “Are you trying to tell me that you want to use me for stress management?”

“Something like that,” she said, allowing an answering smile to flicker across her lips. She wondered how he felt about her admission. It wasn’t exactly a compliment to him and might actually be a blow to his ego. She studied his face, seeing only amusement in his expression. His eyes gave no clue to what he might be thinking.

* * * *

So that’s what was behind her frantic passion.
His back still burned where her nails had broken the skin. Michael felt a sudden fierce satisfaction. She was more strongly invested in the continuance of their relationship. There would be no more attempts to break it off. She needed him for sexual release. He had taught her what he could do for her. From now on, she would willingly reach out for him and draw him down into her arms. He had finally seduced her. She was finally his.

“All right, Winter. If that’s what you want.”

Chapter Twelve

Cathy’s original intention had been to keep Winter’s life totally separate from her own. There was the separate bank account that held Winter’s wages. There was the cell phone that only one person would call. Her dresser and her closet were divided, one side holding her own clothing and on the opposite side what she thought of as Winter’s clothing and accessories. It was schizophrenic, but it worked for her.

However, by degrees, there was an inevitable intermingling. When she didn’t get all of her laundry done, she grabbed a bra from the stash that belonged to her Winter-persona. A necklace and the matching chandelier earrings looked good with one of her suits. A purse, a bangle, a change of eye or lip color. The physical boundaries between her life and Winter’s were gradually beginning to blur. And though she did notice, with some irritation, that her wardrobe was absorbing some of Winter’s stuff, it did not occur to her that there was also a slow merging of her real self with the woman that had been created by a personal ad.

On the day that her sister was due to fly in, she pulled on a pair of Winter’s tight black jeans and topped it with her own heather-green sleeveless knit top. The chandelier earrings went into her ears and a pair of stylish heeled sandals on her feet. Then she ran out to her car, her leather purse swinging jauntily from her shoulder.

At the airport terminal, Cathy grabbed her sister in a tight hug. Her throat constricted with emotion. “Pam! Oh, it’s so good to see you!”

Her sister’s arms around her were equally as tight. “You, too, Cathy.” She stepped back, and her blue eyes intently searched Cathy’s face. “How is Chloe?”