His Sugar Baby(45)
“Isn’t it? My mistake!”
He yanked her up from her knees and threw her onto the bed. Cathy rolled away, but he caught her. He tore off her jeans and thong. He forced his thigh between hers then he pushed inside of her. His hands wrapped over her shoulders for purchase, and there was no finesse with what he did then.
Cathy was glad for his hard-riding possession. She was desperate for him to make her feel, to make her forget who she really was. I’m Winter! I’m Winter! Fury still coursed raw through her heated veins. She raked her long nails down his back before digging them deep into the solid muscle of his flexing buttocks. She gloried in his hoarse curses. Raising her head, she turned to bite his forearm, making him flinch. But he didn’t falter in the pounding rhythm between them.
Her muscles began to coil. Liquid heat spiraled tighter and tighter. She started shaking until the unbearable tension broke in crashing waves. She screamed and thrashed. The clenching of her sex triggered his climax. He arched rigidly over her, pumping his hot seed into her womb. Through the roar in her ears, she heard the tortured groan torn from his snarling lips.
He collapsed heavily on top of her, panting rapidly. His weight pressed her into the tangled bedclothes. They were still joined, their bodies slick with sweat. She lay dazed, utterly incapable of coherent thought. All of her rage and resentment were gone. Cathy floated languorously, lost in the lingering warmth.
Michael’s heart slammed in his chest. Afraid that he was crushing her, he made a monumental effort to more. He slowly turned over on his back, slipping free of her body. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close so that she lay limply against his side, her head pillowed on his shoulder. There was only the shared rasp of their ragged breathing to break the silence.
Michael moved his flattened hand, almost tenderly, up and down her glistening silken arm. He was totally blown away. He was still feeling neurons spark. The head of his penis throbbed where she had marked him. The bite on his forearm stung, the scratches on his back burned, and he suspected that he had bloody nail punctures on his ass. It was the most intense, hottest sex he had ever experienced, and it was all the more amazing that he had had it with a woman who had been celibate for six years. He had been determined to teach her about her underlying passion, but this afternoon she had schooled him instead. He gave a hoarse, amazed chuckle. “You continue to surprise me, Winter.”
Winter. Her mind snapped back into focus. For the first time since beginning the affair, she wasn’t submerged in her Winter-persona. Cathy stiffened and pushed herself away from him. He didn’t try to stop her when she slid off the bed. She bent, picking up her twisted jeans from the floor.
“No, don’t.” His voice was low.
She turned her head, pushing her hair out of her face. He had pushed himself up on one elbow, his bicep bunched under his weight, and he was watching her with a darkened gaze. His pale eyes glittered like sunlit chips of blue ice. “Don’t get dressed yet. Just your heels.”
Cathy hesitated, feeling resistance tugging at her before she shrugged her bare shoulders. What did a few more minutes matter? She could feel the smear of his semen on her inner thighs. Her pride was already tattered, and her sense of self-worth was fast approaching zero. It was her own fault. She had let herself come to this place that first night. She had agreed to become his paid whore and play toy.
She dropped her jeans and walked across the bedroom toward the open doorway where she had kicked off her shoes. Stooping to retrieve her heels, she slid into them and then straightened to face him. She was completely uncaring that she was nude. Where he was concerned, she had no modestly left.
The two things that she still kept from him were her identity and her heart, she thought, and she would never give those up to him.
She saw that he had scooted up to recline against the headboard, pillows thrust behind his broad back. “What now, Michael?”
“I want you to pack for me.”
She threw up her head in surprise. It was the last thing she might have expected. She recovered quickly, sneering sarcastically, “Like a good little wife?”
She glimpsed something dark flash in Michael’s eyes. His expression became more shuttered while his lips curved in that cold, familiar smile. “Don’t go there, Winter.” The words were clipped and icy. “The suitcase is there. No, don’t move it. You’ll see that I’ve already set out everything either on top of the dresser or on that chair. Pack for me now, Winter.”
The coldness in his face, in his voice, unnerved her. For the first time, she felt the faintest stir of—It wasn’t fear, precisely, but more like uneasiness. Stiffly, she started to do what she was told.
She made more than one trek from the dresser to the suitcase, carrying jeans and briefs. As she bent over to arrange the clothing in the suitcase, she chanced to glance over at Michael. His gaze was fastened on her swaying breasts. He was lightly stroking himself, his new erection already thick. She must have made some soft sound because his eyes lifted to hers, his gaze bold and direct.
Heat sizzled between them.
Breaking their locked glances, Cathy spun swiftly. That was when she caught sight of the naked reflection of herself, the open suitcase, and Michael braced up on pillows on the bed in the dresser mirror. She realized that he had been watching her in the mirror, bending over to expose her sex to him, while he enjoyed the front view.