His Sugar Baby

His weight lifted. She felt the coolness of the air on her heated body and incoherently sobbed a protest. His hands wrapped her waist and flipped her onto her belly. Anticipation flashed over her. “Yes!”


His wide hands lifted her hips. His heavy cock nudged at her ass, slid underneath, and pushed home again, filling her. His fingers bit into her hips. He drove into her sheath again, at a deeper angle, hitting the exquisite pleasure point. He grunted above her, his breath heaving sharply with every stroke. The pleasure radiated, blossoming in her core. “Michael!” Her fingers writhed in the bedclothes. A molten, mind-hazing wave washed over her. Bright, jagged lights burnt behind her eyeballs, and she was spun into space.

Michael shuddered through his own orgasm before he collapsed over her. He lifted himself and sprawled down beside her. He threw his arm heavily over her lower back. His swift, harsh breath rasped loud in her ears. She lay tangled in the bedclothes, under the reassuring weight of his arm, and her eyes drifted shut.

They slept the night through. At some point, she became nestled against his side. His arms wrapped around her, and her head rested on his chest.

It was late in the morning when she wakened. The whisps of a lovely dream still misted through her sleepy brain. She opened her eyes and met his gaze. There was a softened expression in his pale eyes that lit happiness deep inside her. It would be easy to tell him, she thought muzzily. One of his hands caressed the line of her shoulder and arm. The warmth of his body cradled her. She felt utterly boneless, cherished, and safe. He was going to make a wonderful father. Still half asleep, she smiled up at him. “I love you.”

She felt his whole body stiffen. She watched the shutters snap shut over his expression, turning the warmth in his eyes cold. It was like having a bucket of frigid water splashed in her face. She was instantly and fully awake. Iciness settled around the vicinity of her heart. She had made the unpardonable mistake. She had misread him and exposed her vulnerability. Her heart thudded heavily with her disappointment and despair. It had all changed for her, but obviously it had not for him. She sat up, pulling the sheet up to her breasts. “You don’t have to say it. No emotional attachments, right?”

Michael eased himself to a sitting position. His eyes never wavered from hers, and she saw guilt reflected in their pale depths. “I need to be honest with you. There are—things you need to know.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You obviously want a relationship. There’s no possibility of that.” She heard the regret in his voice, which only served to crush her further. He slid an arm around her shoulders, and she tensed. He lifted his other hand to gently caress her face with his fingers. “Winter. I’m sorry.” When she started to move away from him, he tightened his arm. She resisted, so he reluctantly let her go.

She slipped out of the bed and started across the bedroom toward the bathroom. Coming to him, falling into bed with him, had been a monumental mistake. “I’ll get cleaned up and go.”

“I have a wife.”

The words hung stark on the air. They hit her with all the force of lethal throwing knives. She stumbled and slowly swung around. She stared disbelievingly at him. Something shriveled, and died, inside her. Her pulse beat heavily in her body, in her belly.

His face was still shuttered, but there was an uneasy flicker in his eyes. There was an almost-imperceptible working of his throat before he spoke again. “We were separated for a long time before I met you, but we aren’t divorced.”

Cathy struggled to make sense of what exactly he was telling her. “You were married? While we were…” She waved her hands in the air.

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