His Sugar Baby(36)
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.