Sugar Daddy (26 page)

He talked right down to me, “Oh, it’s much more than that.”

“Do tell.”

“But I’m just the silent partner.”

How I wished that was true.

“I will let you know this. Reardon Boone’s been in many, many holes
.
And I’ve been around to catalog them all. Dug him out of the worst myself. You think you know the man?” His fingers snapped in front of my face. “You don’t know a thing, little girl.” His features turned even uglier. “You still think you’re gonna prove it’s not about the skirt-chasing, don’t you?”

I reeled back.

He slavered in my face. “Only thing you’re going to prove is Reardon is beyond rehabilitation.”

I smacked him so hard his chins wobbled.

Augie grabbed Slaughter’s wrist, squeezing tight. “Listen, son. You so much as look at my girl here with less than honorable intentions, and I won’t hesitate to get my boys on you. Now fuck off.”

Slaughter slunk away.

Augie relaxed his shoulders, patted his brow with a handkerchief, straightened his Panama hat.

“My boys?”

“I may be an antiqueerian, but I’ve got my connections.”

The adrenaline rush subsiding, I sagged against Augie. He tucked me under his arm, talking to take my mind off of Slaughter. “Back to matters at hand
.
When you gonna let Monsieur le Entrepreneur enter you?”

I tweaked his bow tie. “Very, very soon.”

August feigned a swoon.

* * * *

Later, when I rapped on Reardon’s door, there was no way I could quell the excited flutters in my tummy or the aroused humming below.

The door swung open; he swooped down for a kiss. “Hey darlin’.”

Did he use the sexy southern drawl because he wanted me to keel over? Death by eargasm.

“Mmm. Hi.” I walked past him, turning to check him out. And cue my end by eyegasm
.
Sleeves rolled over his forearms, nice smile, broad shoulders, hands at his hips framing The Stuff in case I failed to see the way his jeans hung on his...hungedness. “You look pretty.”

His face scrunched. It was cute.

“And kinda adorable,” I added.

“Pretty and adorable?”

“Well yeah, you got those gorgeous blue eyes and those really red lips I love to suck, and well, pretty.”

Proving a point, he rasped a hand over the dark stubble on his jaw, allowing for a nice flexing of large muscles.
Bless you.

“And very, very manly.”

He grinned, slinging an arm around my waist. Breathing near my ear, he sent shudders down my spine. “You look downright delicious.” He caressed my bare shoulders. “Which reminds me, you hungry?”

“As in eating something nutritious?”

“Yes, Shay. Food, first
.
”

“Before?”

“Before I take you to bed, and make love to you, all night long.”

Alrighty then, bring on the chow, now.

“Want me to serve?” I giggled.

“Very funny. You made me nervous last week.” He swatted my ass. “Go have a seat.”

“You were nervous?”

“Yeah.”

“And tonight? Are you?”

He watched me hungrily. “No.”

No he wasn’t, he was in full fuck-me-now mode.

He advanced.

I halted him with a hand to his chest. “Food.”

“Yeah.” Glancing at my mouth, he hesitated.

“Reardon, if you don’t get the damn meal served now, we’re not gonna eat... Food, that is.”

Plating thick steaks and a green salad, pouring from a dusty vintage-however-many-years-old bottle of wine, he sat next to me. “How was your outing?”

I glugged an inch of the cannot-ever-afford-Zin. “The usual.”

“Such as?” He wasn’t used to being brushed off.

“Tomatoes groped, Augie wanted to elope with the newest organic veg-dealer, I bought-a-couple-plants. You?” I didn’t mention Slaughter. I didn’t even think about him. Not. One. Bit.

“Bought a company. Fired a few grifters. Talked with my realtor about some properties in Bermuda.”

Uh huh, the usual
.
“Slaughter come in today?”

He set his fork down. “No. Why?” he asked cautiously.

I shook my head.

“Shay?”

Because he’s a pain in my motherfuckin’ ass, and he’s tryin’ to worm his way between us.
“I don’t like the idea of you workin’ with him.” Quickly working the let’s drop it angle, I brightened and brushed my leg against his.

The attraction between us immediately amplified. The rest of the meal was a matter of hot looks, intimate touches, and quick plate clearing.

I was on the verge of either begging for dessert–
or beggin’ for dessert
–when Reardon guided me to his bedroom.

There was no music, no candles, no artifice.

Only me and him.

Turned out, I didn’t want a wham-bam fuck either.
I wanted Reardon. I wanted to make love too.

The way he undressed me was beguiling. Every inch revealed met with warm lips, hushed worship, his sleek tongue lashing my nipples until he stretched them between his teeth, and I came with his head buried between my breasts.

Each time he performed a new erotic feat–taking my calves to his shoulders, placing his mouth against my slit, lapping my clit, curling his fingers inside me–he was solicitous beneath the rampant savagery he withheld. “Okay?”

Unhurriedly, I let the clothes drip from his muscular body, drop to the floor. “You okay with this?” I parroted, teasing my breath to his sac and cock.

“Yes,” he groaned.

I licked and sucked and made love to his shaft until it was slippery with saliva, so hard and hot and heavy it thwapped my cheek. “Dick slappin’ me already?”

“Shay,” he moaned, the arch of his cock dancing across my face.

A clash of bodies and breaths, of heat and wet touch. Between my legs, he stilled his foray up and down the pink flesh he’d tasted, deviating to sink a finger inside me, thumbing my swollen nub.

I raised my eyes, hoping to see Reardon’s strong back bent over me, but the mirror above his bed was covered by a drape of cloth. I arched to the twist of his rough fingertips on my nipple.

Collapsing, writhing, I gasped, “No mirror?”

His long lean body settling over mine, braising my tits with his chest, my pussy with his thick cock, he grabbed my hips, kneeing my thighs open. “Not tonight.”

He asked a final time, rocking back and forth, “You’re sure?”

I was wet, open, ready for him. “Yes, oh please yes, Reardon.”

Biting his lip, he brushed the tip of his shaft over me before he entered. Bare skin to engorged surrounds.

I rose to my elbows, kissing his throat to his mouth until his lips went from a firm line to a velvety pout I bit.

One hand helping himself deeper, the other stroking my cheek, he caught his breath and grunted. “Oh, fuck.” Under the fan of lashes, his hooded eyes shone midnight blue. “Alright?”

I nibbled his earlobe. “Keep going.” The stretching was unbearably good, incredibly satisfying.

He uttered a thick laugh; the cliff of his tip sat the barest inch inside me. A full head my pussy clung to. “That’s the thing. I’m stuck.”

I flushed scarlet. “Well, this is awkward.”

I moved my hips and he reared up, screwing his eyes shut. “Wouldn’t exactly call it awkward. So hot, tight. Jesus, don’t move again because I’m only, ah…” Giving another push, he looked to where we joined. His dark, pulsing cock partly surrounded by the pink of my lips. “Only about halfway inside and about to explode. So, yeah.” His head sank to my shoulder. “Guess you could say awkward.”

“Little bit,” I agreed.

Another sizable stretch of his penis pressed into me, another gruff grumble, “Little bit?”

Trailing hands down his back, I squeezed his tight ass. I kissed him slowly. “Got your own zipcode goin’ on down there, baby, so don’t be sensitive.”

He chugged a hoarse laugh.

Which made me giggle.

Which made me clench around him.

And that made him plunge forward. “If you start laughing, you’re gonna push me over.”

Ooh, I had him so good.

I squeezed, and he gritted his teeth. “We don’t have to do this.” He twisted my nipples, tightening the bow in my belly. “I’d be happy to come on your tits again.”

Dirty talk, excellent. Always a crowd pleaser
.

I looked down to the ribbons of throbbing veins overlaying his shaft, his tense groin muscles, his hand wrapped around the base of his erection, and the drop of moisture streaking from inside me over his cock. My flesh opened, pulling him deeper.

“You’re as turned on by seeing this as I am.” His thumb smeared the growing moisture around his cock. “Aren’t you?”

He guided himself into me, changed his angle and then,
oh my God did that ever feel…
“Oh yes!”

Reardon shook from head to foot and impaled me with several broad strokes before rolling onto his back, hoisting me astride him. I bent away from the collision of our kiss, moaning. “Oh, Reardon, you feel awesome.”

His chuckle hardly made it past his throat. “Indeed, uhhh, Shay.”

He was deeper, longer, harder like this.

I tossed my head back and yelled. Lowering my eyes, I reveled in the sinuous struggle between his powerful body and my soft curves, our hips striking, grinding, pumping up and down.

I grabbed my breasts as the tempo increased, Reardon spiraling into me with more force, his head thrashing on the pillows.

“You have any idea how much I’ve fantasized about...” His voice was rough. “
Aahhh.
”

I transferred my tits to his hands, and he grinned like it was Christmas morning before delving in with his lips pulling, tongue swiping. Bracing my palm on his chest, my free hand on the smooth weights of his balls, I turned slightly and…

“Yes. Reardon-fuck-fuck-oh, God yes!” I came, fiery tongues tracing my body into a taut arch.

Deliriously coming around, I was seated on his lap, his chest rubbing my aching nipples. The long pumps of his cock never let up as I kissed him intensely, moaning into each slow glide.

Arduous concentration masked his face, his eyes blue flames, his hands running wildly through my hair and down my back to my ass. Coaxing me, insistently fucking me.

“C’mon, Shay.” Finger knotted around my clit in narrowing circles.

The tendons down his throat and on his chest strived with a resounding roar. “Shay!”

Enraptured...
enraptured.

Captured.

“That was...” I sighed, sloppily washing over his chin, landing dead center on his lips with a wonderfully wet kiss.

“Awesome?” He coupled our bodies under the covers, his hand belonging between my breasts, his thigh’s coarse hairs biting into my soft skin.

“Mmm
,
yeah.”
Reaching behind, I caressed his face.

I pulled him closer to me.

The perfect cover.

He whispered, “Shay, I...I…”

I was well-fucked, thank you very much.

I slurred, “What, baby?”

I fell peacefully, completely, asleep.

Chapter 11

Family Business

I should’ve felt ashamed–at the very least, guilty–after making love with Reardon. Truth was I gloried like the cat that got the cream, a lot of cream, during the following days. Remorse niggled through, marauding minnows nibbling the healing edges of the wound in my heart. Because of Palmer and the plain home truth I didn’t know where this was going.