Urging him to his side, I laid with my belly nice and comfy against his legs. He fed me his cock, an inch, another few, a couple more until my fingers folded around his, and we slowly moved him in and out.
He brushed the hair from my face, trying not to grip too hard. His features contorted, he watched while I sucked him, licked him, made him slippery and sloppy, my tongue lapping his hot red tip and the sensitive crepe skin under his cockhead.
“God, woman!” He pushed me down, swelling inside my throat, filling my mouth with salty creamy come, only closing his eyes when he drowned in orgasm.
I licked my lips, his penis, the lush maleness of his sacs, leaving nothing to waste.
Reardon played with my nipples, teasing them with light licks and long deep drags from his mouth. His fingers wandered between my legs, into my wet slit.
Arching my back until my belly rounded against him, I cried out, “Yeah, yeah.”
Rolling behind me, he cupped my ass, massaging me lower and lower until I lifted my thigh so his pushed between.
My ass weaved against his cock. “Need you inside me, baby.”
He bent back, plunged forward, joining hot flesh in slow motion. His head bursting into me, the steely length of his shaft following. My cunt pulsed with every slick slide.
All the pressure inside my body bore down on him, tightening with his entry. “Ooh!”
“Ahhh, yes,” he moaned. On his elbow, as the head of his shaft drilled into my entrance, he made sure, “You okay?”
“More.”
He inched inside of me, his fingers at my breasts and the engorged pearl of my clit. Moisture seeping between us, Reardon bucked his hips from behind until his balls slapped my ass.
Spreading my legs, he made love to me slowly. He dipped a finger down low, rolling my sensitive bud. “Feel good?”
I moaned and moved with him. His ass, his thighs, his neck a straining masterpiece I painted with hands and lips and tongue, anything I could reach.
The feel of him filling me was like coming home.
Cramming into me, Reardon clenched, his jaw sliding against my cheek as he groaned. His hot jets set me off with explosive fireworks.
Afterward, I giggled in a so-happy-so-well-fucked effervescent way.
Butterflies.
“Feel good?” He moved me around so my stomach lay against his ribbed abs.
Good?
Hell. I was boneless. I sneaked over to kiss his cheek where a red flush bloomed. “Better than ever.”
In the morning, I woke to bright sunlight and bold hands massaging me. What I felt was so different from another blinding morning, the first one at DeBordieu, after I’d told him about my daughter.
“Mmm
,
Reardon,” I sighed.
“Morning, darlin’.”
His strong fingers worked small of my back, loosening the ever-present ache saddling my hips.
I wriggled my bottom. “Don’t stop. Your hands feel awesome.”
“I’m glad.” He nudged my feet with his toes.
Turning over, I opened my eyes to the handsome man in my bed. The sheets were rumpled. The quilt in disarray. His stubble a dark punctuation on his cheeks and sparkling blue eyes and thoroughly kissable lips.
Our bedroom was perfumed with the scent of sex.
I sat up and the blankets pooled at my hips. He stretched onto his side. My nipples were rosy as the sunrise, engorged and begging.
Lazily, he plucked them with his thumbs.
Caringly, he took my feet onto his lap and rubbed my insteps.
My nose wrinkled when he hit a ticklish spot.
He moved to my ankles, meeting my eyes with a small shred of playfulness, but a lot more seriousness. “You know, there’s one other contract we need to hammer out.”
My sleepiness shed, my heart sped. “You wanna broker a deal with me, Mr. Boone?”
He smiled, stroking upward to my calves. “It’d be binding, mind you.”
Binding, hmm.
We definitely needed to revisit the discussion we’d had on board
Ransome III,
the night he blindfolded me.
Leaning over, he murmured, “Not that kind of bondage, Miss Greer.”
Goosebumps trilled down my flesh, but I censured, “No escape clauses or any other underhanded stuff?”
His lips formed an unsure fragment. “You want the terms?”
Relinquishing my legs, he held my hands. The sheet wrapped about his hips, he lowered to the floor...
on one knee.
“Yeah,” I whispered. My eyes awash, my heart stopped somewhere between my chest and my throat. “Yes.”
He winked, brushing his thumb over my left ring finger, same as he’d done before. “Don’t say yes yet, Shay. I’m talking about a one-time deal. No going back. In it forever.”
I nodded, struggling for my voice. “This the love, honor, and cherish commitment you’re talking about?”
He produced a ring.
The sting of tears stained my face, and my hands trembled. “But none of that obey shit, right?”
A self-deprecating grin flew across his mouth. “Never that from you, darlin’.”
“You certain?”
“One hundred percent.” His eyes raised, his voice lowered. “Will you do me the greatest honor, Shay, and be my wife?”
Dropping down before him, I twined our fingers in betrothal, in love, for our future.
Crying and smiling, I crushed him to me. “Yes!”
Taking my hand to his lips, he kissed every fingertip. He settled on the fourth. The diamond gleamed when my tears fell upon it. “I love you, Shay.”
I watched his proud smile as he placed the engagement ring on my finger.
Between kisses, when our mouths parted and our hands remained tithed as our hearts, I spoke the words that had started this all: “Where do I sign?”
About Rie Warren
A Yankee transplant via the United Kingdom and other wild journeys, I fell head over heels for Charleston, SC as soon as my husband and I arrived on a spontaneous day trip. We ditched our other relocation plans, packed the old Saturn station wagon, and made the Lowcountry our destination with absolutely no jobs or place to live. I guess you could say it was love at first sight. Or a little bit of insanity.
That was over ten years ago and my love affair with the area has grown to infuse my stories. The sultry settings, the colorful characters with their vibrant voices, the unique way-of-life, a mix of country-living and cosmopolitan spark…these qualities bring my writing to life.
Welcome to the Lowcountry, y’all, I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I do!
Find me at http://www.riewarren.com
Sugar Daddy
9781616504656
Copyright © 2013, Rie Warren
Edited by Piper Denna
Book design by Lyrical Press, Inc.
Cover Art by Valerie Tibbs
First Lyrical Press, Inc. electronic publication: June 2013
Lyrical Press, Incorporated
http://www.lyricalpress.com
eBooks are not transferable. All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
PUBLISHER'S NOTE:
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
Published in the United States of America by Lyrical Press, Incorporated
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