His Sugar Baby



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.”



Sarah Roberts's books