His Sugar Baby(27)
Michael felt his gut tighten. He turned away to sit down in the armchair opposite her. He rolled the shot glass between his hands, not really interested in the liquor. However, he noticed that Winter gulped hers down. His brows jerked together. He wondered if she was fortifying herself with a little Dutch courage so that she could deliver the coup de grace to their relationship. It was an unwelcome thought. Feeling unnaturally pressured, Michael hurried into speech. “I had time during my trip to think about some things. Namely, what happened after the ballet premier.”
Her head shot up. For the first time since she had walked in, she looked at him directly. He couldn’t read the expression in her eyes. He didn’t like that.
Her lips parted.
Michael threw up his hand, hoping to stop her from speaking until he could get out everything that he wanted to say. “Please, Winter, hear me out. I want to apologize for placing you into an uncomfortable situation. It was both insensitive and selfish on my part.” He set his untouched glass on the side table before he got to his feet and crossed over to her.
He crouched down beside the armchair and gently reached out for the hand that wasn’t holding the shot glass. Peripherally, he noticed how cold her fingers were. She did not pull away but instead just looked at him over the edge of her glass. Her beautiful hazel eyes still had that shuttered look. He couldn’t begin to guess what might be going through her mind, but he suspected that he had only one shot at getting this right.
Michael raised her unresisting hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across her soft knuckles. Over their clasped hands, he held her unfathomable gaze with his own. Quietly, he said, “Forgive me, Winter. I won’t push you into anything that you don’t want again, I promise.”
She did pull against his fingers then. He released her at once, feeling a sharp shaft of disappointment. He had come as close to begging as he ever had, but apparently it was not enough. She’s going to walk. He thrust aside his faltering dismay and forced himself to remain still under her slow examination of his face. He didn’t know what arguments he could bring, but he was going to try his damnedest to change her mind. He didn’t want to lose what he had found with her. It was too good. “Winter, please listen to me—”
The distant expression in her eyes did not change. Winter turned her head from him. With deliberation, she set the shot glass down on the side table. When she turned back to him, she reached up to touch his jaw with cold fingertips. When she spoke, her voice was strangely ragged. “Take me to bed, Michael. Please.”
He was completely blown away. He didn’t know why making peace with her had been so easy. He didn’t care. He was just glad.
Michael stood up, reaching down his hand to her. When she put her slender fingers in his, he pulled her to her feet and into his arms. He lowered his head, his mouth seeking hers. He only meant to taste her before they headed upstairs. But when she pressed the soft curves of her luscious body urgently against him, he ignited. His cock went instantly hard. His arms tightened around her, drawing her closer. As he deepened the kiss, her lips parted under his open mouth. He gave an inarticulate groan. He plundered her warm, sweet mouth with his tongue. She tasted of scotch and herself. She met his hunger with hers, his passion with her own.
They never made it upstairs to the bed.
He tumbled her down on the thick rug in front of the empty fireplace. He barely remembered the condom in his pocket, and he got it out with shaking hands. She was already unzipping his jeans, reaching inside to find him. Her fingers closed on his aching shaft and pulled it free. The zipper tines scraped the sensitive sides of his penis. He hissed at her ungentle touch.
He knocked her hands away so he could sheath himself. They were in too much haste to completely undress, their clothes parting where necessary with their feverish struggles. Her skirt was wound up around her hips, her panties around one ankle. His jeans and briefs were shoved down only as far as his knees.
He entered her tight heat without preliminaries, his swollen cock throbbing. He groaned at the silken feel of her surrounding him. He felt her sharp nails rake his back through his T-shirt. Michael cursed and dropped his head to nip one of her turgid nipples through blouse and bra. She cried out yet clutched him tighter. Folding his arms tightly around her, he lunged deeper into her hot liquid center, over and over.
Winter writhed under him. Her long supple legs wrapped around his waist, her locked heels digging into his flexing buttocks. Again, again, again, and again, faster harder, until he was driving her body across the rug. Sweat slicked him. Air sawed out of his lungs. “Oh God, oh God! Winter!” His heavy balls slapped noisily against her ass. His cock swelled, exploding. He gave himself over to the pleasurable mindlessness, throwing back his head, a tortured shout bursting from his throat. Michael fell forward heavily on top of her then rolled to the side. His body was utterly spent. His heart hammered, and he couldn’t immediately catch his breath.
When the fierce coupling was over, Winter sat up beside him and calmly pulled her clothing back together. Michael watched her, an uneasy feeling stirring inside of him. He couldn’t believe that she hadn’t been as physically affected as he had been.
He propped himself up on his elbow, taking care to guard his expression. There was something brittle about her, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. She bent forward and slipped on her pumps. He reached out to catch her slim wrist when she started to rise. “Winter, will you come back?”