His Sugar Baby(20)

His fingers bit into her flesh. The wet smacking sound of their joining was underscored by his swift rasping breaths. The smell of sex permeated the night air. The speed of his possession increased. Every hammer thrust drew a grunt out of her. Tears blurred her eyes, and she bit her lips, but it wasn’t because there was pain. A sensual haze encompassed her. All she could do was hold on while he forged fiery heat and humiliation through her.

Michael stiffened, uttering a hoarse shout. When he shuddered, when he was done, Michael pulled out of her body and rolled off the used condom, dropping it to the ground. He let the thong snap back in place. Breathing heavily, he stepped back to adjust his still-rigid shaft back into his tux pants.

Winter levered herself up, twisting to face him. “You son of a bitch!” She blazed with anger. She took a hasty step away from the car, her open palm flying out at him.

Michael caught her forearm before her palm could connect with his face. His fingers tightened, and he dragged her arm out at an angle to her body, holding it there. At the same time he yanked her against him. She fell into his body, trapping her other arm between them.

“Let go of me!” she panted. She squirmed against his chest, arching as far from him as she could. Ignoring her struggles, he cradled her ass and lifted her, pushing her pelvis into him. The bulge under his zipper pressed into her belly.

His breath was warm on her face. “You may not have altogether enjoyed that encounter. But I suspect, once you’ve had a chance to think about it, that you’ll realize something new about yourself, Winter.”

The bright headlights of a vehicle swept by, momentarily blinding them.

Winter’s heart slammed. If it had come along only seconds earlier, she and Michael would have been… That queer excitement gripped her again. Her breath hissed between her teeth.

He gave a low, knowing laugh. “Not every woman enjoys the titillation of engaging in public sex, Winter.”

She realized abruptly that she was no longer trying to push away from him. Instead, her body had molded to his. His hand was gently smoothing her ass, describing slow circles over her backside. His whisper fanned her ear. “You get a thrill out of the possibility of getting caught, don’t you?”

The implication was damning in light of her obvious reactions. Shame and confusion and fear washed over her. In a suffocated voice, she said, “I want to go home, please.”

Michael released her and stepped back. Abruptly deprived of the heat of his body, she felt the sudden chill of the night air and crossed her arms under her breasts. Michael opened the car door for her, and she got in. She put on the seat belt and then turned her head away to stare at nothing for the return trip back to the city. She said nothing when he drove back downtown to the LongCenter for the Performing Arts and parked. She merely gathered her clutch bag and wrap before sliding out of the Porsche. She waited silently while he hailed a cab and paid the driver.

Before he opened the cab door for her, he tucked a folded crinkled paper under the strap of her tight décolletage. Slipping his hand farther inside the dress, his warm palm cupped her naked breast. His thumbnail grazed the tip. Her nipple pebbled. Fresh humiliation washed over her. He withdrew his hand.

“A Benjamin for every day. Until the first of the month,” he murmured. He kissed her lightly and handed her into the cab.





Chapter Seven



Cathy woke up heavy eyed. She had slept badly. All night she had been on edge, her nerve endings thrumming. She had not been able to get out of her mind the hot sex she and Michael had engaged in. It didn’t matter how she tried to talk herself out of it, she couldn’t deny that the sex had been hot.

She showered, dressed for work and grabbed a quick breakfast before she dashed out to her car. Every waking minute, last night’s foray replayed in her mind, over and over. She could almost feel Michael illicitly stroking her ass through her gown and making her stroke him while they were surrounded by the heat and press of other people after the ballet. It still shocked her that it had aroused her to such a degree to be touched and to touch that way. Then she was reliving the incredible sensation of air fanning her bare butt, his hot thick cock moving fast and deep inside her, the cool metal beneath her thighs…headlights coming.

Her belly clenched. She squeezed her eyes shut. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. The beep of a horn snapped her eyes open. The light had turned green. Cathy stomped the gas pedal and sped on. She was trembling. For heaven’s sake, she had almost had an orgasm at the red light! The depth of her arousal frightened her.

She was haunted by her experiences with Michael.

During that memorable night at Michael’s house, he had brought her to mindless pleasure, where she had completely forgotten herself, how she had come to be there and why. In those hours in the musky dark, she had lost control of herself and her body. She had not known herself. Now there was this other thing. This—this public sex thing. What the hell is wrong with me? She wasn’t sure that she recognized anything about herself anymore.

Cathy didn’t remember the drive to work. She parked and yanked the keys out of the ignition. She gathered up her purse and got out of the car, slamming the door. She did not want to think about it anymore. She wouldn’t think about it any more. She would just do her job today. She walked rapidly into the building.

“Good morning, Cathy.”

She started perceptively and whirled around. Her shoulder bag smacked her hip. The man had taken a half-step back, mild surprise on his face. When she wobbled, his hand shot out, briefly providing support under her elbow while she regained her balance. Swift color rose in her face at her gaucherie. “Paul! I’m sorry. I must have walked right past you. I didn’t see you.”