Roberts, Sarah - His Sugar Baby (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 11

  Just the thought of having her in his arms made his engorged shaft harden even more painfully. He swore savagely under his breath. He couldn’t run in that condition. Scowling, Michael stepped off of the treadmill.

  “You done already, bro? What kind of pussy run was that?” On the neighboring treadmill, Darryl paced easily. A fine sheen of sweat glazed his dark skin. He had pulled the bud of his iPod out of his ear to make his comment.

  “Shut up, Darryl.” Michael grabbed the towel from round his neck and mopped his face, throwing a glare at his friend. Darryl shrugged and fiddled with his iPod, casting him a couple of shrewd glances. But Michael didn’t notice. His brows drew together as he brooded. There was just something about Winter, he thought irritably. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her. By this time, six weeks into their affair, he should be tapering off into the disciplined routine that he had always enjoyed before. He would work hard, get a little stress relief, and be good until the next time he decided to work sex into his demanding schedule.

  But with Winter, it was like his self-discipline was shot to hell. He was finding himself thinking about her while at work, and they were not mildly erotic thoughts. Oh no, Michael scowled. They were the kind of thoughts that gave him raging hard-ons. Like now, for instance.

  Michael tried to adjust himself, still scowling. He had never put his private lavatory at the office to such frequent use. It was freaking embarrassing. He was acting like a randy college kid.

  In his mind he could see Winter’s contorted face in the throes of orgasm, hear her throaty moans, feel her—New beads of sweat popped out on his forehead. Michael wiped his face again with the towel. Maybe it was just a matter of his needing to get Winter out of his system. Maybe he just needed to be with her more frequently. Then he’d start feeling better, more in control.

  Michael frowned. Not that I’m not already in control. He was always in control. Of himself, his emotions. The situation. He just wasn’t bored yet. That was all it was.

  He caught sight of himself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror and saw how impressively his gym shorts were tented. Son of a bitch! Like he needed to advertise his frustrations to the whole world.

  He tucked the end of the damp towel into his waistband so that the towel draped over the front of his sports shorts. He hoped that the bulk of the terry towel would help disguise his condition until he could make his way to the showers. Michael growled. That was another thing. He was taking a hell of a lot more cold showers lately. It was a wonder that he hadn’t developed permanent hypothermia.

  “Hey, Mike. I hope that boner isn’t for me. You know that I’m straight, man.”

  Without looking around, Michael gave his friend a one-fingered salute. Darryl’s deep, rich laughter followed him as he stomped off.

  Yeah, it was definitely time to call Winter again.

  * * * *

  Cathy was having lunch with her best friend. She and Vicky tried to get together at least once a week. Cathy had canceled more times than she liked to think about. It was difficult meshing their work schedules since Cathy spent every second of her free time at the hospital. Her time was even tighter now because of her arrangement with Michael.

  However, this week Cathy had made a determined effort not to stand Vicky up again. She badly needed bonding time with one of her girlfriends. She needed the unconditional sympathy and support. She also needed to vent some of her exacerbated feelings. She would not say anything about Michael, of course. She couldn’t do that without revealing more than she wanted about their relationship. However, in light of what Chloe’s oncologist had told her, the ex-husband was definitely fair game. So she told Vicky about her abortive phone call.

  Her companion’s brown eyes glittered hotly. “Rick said that? That he didn’t want to be bothered about seeing if he was a match for Chloe? What an A-hole!” She set down her glass on the table with unnecessary force, slopping the soda.

  Cathy pushed back a lock of her unruly curls. That morning she had clipped her hair at the nape of her neck, but spiraling tendrils had sprung free to curl around her face. She shook her head. Old anger and helplessness burned inside her. “I know. I couldn’t believe it. He just—just doesn’t care, Vicky.”

  “I know you told me that he never wanted Chloe and that you had to go to court to make him pay child support. But this is just plain evil!” Vicky caught herself up. She took a deep, calming breath, and looked over at her friend with worry. “What are you going to do?”

  “Oh, what I do best—hope and pray,” said Cathy with a short laugh. “The oncologist tells me that there is a good chance that they’ll find another donor, even if it’s not a blood relative. I’ve called my sister. She is going to be tested and have the results sent here as soon as possible. But even if she is a match, she lives so far away that—God, I just wish I was compatible!”

  Vicky reached out to squeeze her hand. “I thought you looked even more stressed than normal. You’re so pale. Now I can see why. Cathy, if you want, I’ll go down this afternoon and get tested to see if I’m a match.”

  Cathy felt her throat tighten. She turned her hand under her friend’s fingers and squeezed back. “Thanks, Vicky. You’re the best.”

  Vicky nodded. She sat back in her chair. Her square chin firmed with determination, and her eyes flashed with zeal. “And what’s more, I’m going to let everyone else know what’s going on. I’ll put the call out on the web page as soon as possible. I’m sure that will get a few other people to volunteer to be tested, too. We’ll put out a new appeal for donations, as well.”

  Cathy nodded, even as she felt herself tensing as Vicky enthusiastically began to toss out ideas. She was grateful for Vicky’s partisanship, truly she was. But the old familiar crushing weight of an anxiety attack was bearing down on her lungs. She should have known that Vicky would bring up the website and all of the rest of it. Just once, just once, she wished that she could confide in her best friend and not have it turn into a major mandate for action. Vicky’s efforts to get the word out were effective, particularly at work. She would have to show a big brave front while people asked questions and expressed renewed sympathy.

  She forced herself to deepen the sudden shallowness of her breathing, to will away the pain in her chest and the guilt in her heart. Yet her thoughts barreled on. She was aware—of course she was!—of how essential it was that word of Chloe’s most pressing need be gotten out. She could only be grateful that Vicky was willing to put in the considerable personal time it took to spearhead publicity. Cathy recognized that she could not have done half as much.

  At the same time, there would be more pity, more furtive glances thrown her way. As though she was a freak in a sideshow. Or the star of a stupid reality show! And she would have to be calm and brave and strong and all those things that she knew she wasn’t really. She could never let anyone see that she was always just a hairsbreadth away from screaming and screaming.

  If only Rick had agreed, it might have been avoided. Just this once.

  Just once she maybe could have drawn breath like a normal person and not felt like a malevolent boa constrictor had her in its coils, slowly squeezing—squeezing—

  “Cathy, are you all right?”

  She started. “What?” Cathy realized that her companion was staring at her, a strange expression on her face. Vicky glanced down at the table and then back up. Cathy quickly glanced down and saw that she had shredded her paper napkin into tiny itsy bits of fluff. “What a dork.” She managed to smile. “I guess I’m just a little stressed. Can’t imagine why!”

  “What you need is a massage, some ‘me’ time,” said Vicky forcefully. She didn’t try to hide the sympathy and compassion in her expression.

  Almost on cue, Cathy heard her—no, Winter’s—phone ring. A warm tingling buzzed along her nerve endings. She cleared her throat. “Excuse me, Vicky. I’d like to take this.” She got up from the table and moved a few steps away for privacy before she answered. “Yes?” She listened
for a moment. “All right.”

  When she returned to the table, in answer to her girlfriend’s anxious question, she said calmly, “Not to worry. It wasn’t the hospital. Just something having to do with work.” Cathy drew in a long, careful breath. “You’re absolutely right, Vicky. Would you mind letting Paul know that I’m taking a few hours of personal time? A good deep massage is just what I could use right now.”

  * * * *

  It was the first time they had come together in the middle of the day. She was expecting a “quickie”, but Michael surprised her. He took his time undressing her and easing her down onto his bed. When he had undressed, put on a condom, and joined her, he drew her toward him so that they were lying on their sides, facing one another. He slid an arm under her neck and wrapped it around her back so that his hand cupped her shoulder. His other hand clasped her buttocks and brought her closer. She could feel his sheathed erection pressed against her belly. He kissed her slowly, openmouthed.

  Winter slid her arms around his neck and returned his kiss. She sucked in his upper lip and nibbled at it. He touched his tongue to her lower lip, and she opened her mouth. His tongue slid gently against hers, caressed the roof of her mouth, and flickered over her teeth. The erotic warmth and taste of his mouth made her flush with heat.

  His warm hands roamed over her back and kneaded her buttocks. His fingers slid between the cleft of her cheeks, and lower, to tease her intimately. There was possessiveness in his explorations. She allowed her own hands to feel the contour of sleek muscle in his back, the curve of his spine, and the sharp definition of his ass. His body reacted to her touch with tiny rippling shivers. His evidence of arousal fed her own heightening desire. She felt herself getting wetter and wetter.

  He squeezed the curve of her hip with one hand. “You’re so damn beautiful, Winter,” he uttered hoarsely. “I could make love to you all day and night!” The arm wrapped around her shoulders tightened as he drew her in for another soul-searing kiss. His fingers speared through her hair.

  Winter responded wholeheartedly to his fierce, ravening kiss, sucking his tongue into her mouth. Her heart beat wildly. She felt like he was melting her, and she needed to press herself right into him. She lifted her top leg over his along his muscular thigh and pushed the other between his hair-roughened legs. Her pulsing sex was finally exposed to him, and his cock slid snugly home, its entire length abrading her tingling clit. She groaned into his mouth with the surge of pleasure. He firmly cupped her butt, his fingers gripping tight on her flesh, and began to rock rhythmically into her molten core. She could feel his shaft moving between the sandwich of her inner thighs.

  With their legs entangled together, their arms around each other, they indulged in hot and clinging kisses. He moved slowly in and out of her body, every movement chafing the entire length of his hot cock continually over her clit. The pleasure became almost exquisitely painful in intensity. Small seismic shocks made her body jerk. Her mind drifted onto a different plane as her heart thudded in her breast. She clung blindly to him, her body pressed so close to his that their pelvises ground together. The familiar, welcome pressure formed and built higher. When her final orgasm overtook her, it was deep and powerful. Michael came after her, lasting longer than he ever had with her. The feeling of intimacy and sharing was almost heartrending.

  They lay relaxing after their thorough lovemaking. Sunlight patterned their nude, sweat-slicked bodies with soft stripes from the gently blowing sheers at the open windows. Winter rested, boneless, while he caressed her belly. He kissed her stomach, even as his fingers lightly traced the silvery web of scars on her skin. He lifted his head to look up the length of her body into her face. Her curls fanned over his pillow in glorious display, and he smiled. “Stretch marks? You have a little girl, Chloe, right?”

  Winter stiffened under his leisurely exploring hand. Alarm jumped inside of her, sending a hit of adrenaline rushing to her veins. She could feel her pulse leap in her throat as her muscles tensed. She eyed him warily. “Yes.”

  “Have you got any other children?” His voice was casual, almost indifferent.

  “No.” She bit off the terse monosyllable. Her thoughts whirled with unease. Why was he asking? He had never expressed interest before in her personal life. What had changed? She stared at him. He wasn’t looking back at her anymore, having turned his attention to the roaming of his hand. His fingers lightly traced the contours of her hipbone, and his palm skimmed the top of her stomach before caressing the length of her thigh. He trailed the back of his fingernails up on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Trails of warmth began to linger behind his light touch, but she tried to ignore it. I should go. She started to push herself up from the pillows onto her elbows.

  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 s
he 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!”