Sugar Daddy

by Rie Warren

  I stroked his arm, but he didn’t feel me.

  “The only easy day was yesterday.” He curled his fist against the window. “That’s the SEALs motto.

  “You know.” He waged war with his hair, slicing fingers through black ruffles. “They don’t send telegrams anymore. The doorbell rang, and Temperance answered it. I came into the foyer to see Ellegee. He looked grim. All he could say was, ‘He’s still alive.’ I think it’s worse, when someone familiar brings you bad news instead of impersonal black words on a piece of paper.”

  I remembered the telltale knock on our cottage. Daddy’s supervisor with his own bad news. “I know.”

  “We drove to McLellanville, but we weren’t fast enough. The chaplain and Casualty Notification Officer were on their way out. Seeing Mom.” Reardon sagged. “She was crying without making a sound, grabbing Dad’s hand. He just stood rigid, holding her up. His face was a mask, containing everything, making sure Mom didn’t know how worried he was. I knew that look. I’d seen it before.

  “‘Bring him home to me.’ Mom made me promise. ‘Reardon, you make sure your brother gets home.’ He was her baby boy, damn sure she wasn’t going to let him die alone. Felt like time should’ve stopped while I held my mom as the rug was pulled from under us one more time. But time doesn’t slow down, it never does.”

  The cloud of bad memories lifted. “Most days he remembers an awful lot.” Reardon chuckled. “Not even a wheelchair can stop him from getting out. I don’t know how many times Ma’s told him to lay off the weight lifting. But then, it’s hard, Shay.” His fingers slid down my cheeks. “The days he thinks he’s leaving for his first deployment. With everyone there to see him off. Makes us all remember. Makes us all wonder why we didn’t stop him.”

  I pressed his hands to my lips. “Because you couldn’t.”

  “Doesn’t help. But the good days, they’re worth the bad ones.”

  “He’s with your mom?”

  He nodded.

  “He’s why you’re so driven.”

  “In part. Ransome has a lot of needs. I wouldn’t be his big brother if I didn’t take care of him, at least this time.”

  “I’m so sorry, babe.” I massaged his tense shoulders until he relented enough to let me slip under his arm.

  “He’s a far better man than me.” He tucked me under his chin.

  “You still take him out on the ocean.” I knew this.

  “Yeah.” He smiled, reminiscing about his brother at sea. “He liked to be on the water, still does. Could’ve been worse, he could have come back under the flag like so many thousands of others. He could be lost to us in so many other ways: homeless, alone, and unemployed.”

  “He has a job?”

  “Of course, we Boones are no slouches.” Pride filled his voice, “Works for Boone and Sons Fresh Seafood. Suppliers of The Crab Pot and other fine eateries up around 17 North.” He shook his head in disbelief. “He certainly has no lack of ladies willing to look after him, either.”

  “Got ’em lined up around the block?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Must be a Boone thing.” I tugged on his tie.

  “You think?”

  “I know,” I mumbled, his lips warming mine with a glide of tongue and a smooth kiss. Arching my back to his hands, I lifted onto tiptoes, bringing him as close as possible.

  “We got a family gathering back home in a couple weeks.” His fingers elongated my neck for his lips.

  I shuddered at his caress. “Okay.”

  “Would you join me?”

  “My time is yours.”

  He ceased the dance of his lips down my throat. “Not as my employee.”

  “As?” Hooker, whore, PA-paramour? I waited to see how he’d spin this.

  “My girlfriend.”

  “Yes.” I’d give him this. If only to see his boyish smile–that one right there–light up his face.

  “Really? You want to come with me?”

  “Sometimes you’re so damn dim. Yeah.” I snuck to his ear to mention, “And make no mistake, I want you. I do want to come with you.”

  “I’m glad.” He took us backward, planting my ass on his desk. Pulling up my top, he sank his lips between my breasts. His hands crushing the mounds together, he licked both sides, closing his mouth around one areola and the other until they were puffy bright pink peaks.

  Yanking his dangling tie, I bit his bottom lip. “Remember, not gonna do it on a desk the first time.”

  His hips hitched to mine. “Got something else in mind.”

  My panties ripped. He threw them aside, hauling me to the edge of the desk.

  “You ready?” His eyes blazed between my thighs.

  Hooking my legs under his arms, he kissed the tendon at the top of my leg. Then he bit hard. Relishing his force, I bucked, bunching handfuls of his hair in my fists.

  “Impatient?”

  Using the stranglehold of my thighs and hands, I gave him a bird’s eye view of my fingertip winding through my needy lips, landing on my clit.

  The flat of his tongue followed so fast I let him go, bracing my hands on his shoulders, my heels flat on the desk.

  I writhed while he worked me over, clapping his hands under my rear to dive his pointed tongue inside me with quick thrusts. He pinched my clit, bringing it to his mouth, and I moaned, “Oh yeah, oh...oh...ahhh, Reardon.”

  I hauled him up, kissing the hell out of him.

  Then he tried to make me look presentable, without my undies.

  “Sorry about your panties.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  He shrugged, putting on his jacket.

  I eyed the bulging mass at his groin. I so very much wanted to touch it. “You gonna be okay there, big boy?”

  “Think I can manage it,” he winked. Oh, I so wanted to see him manage his cock, with a nice firm grip. We stood together, as close as possible without setting off his pocket rocket. “You available tomorrow night?”

  “You askin’?”

  “Yes.”

  “What I think y’all are askin’?”

  “Yeah.” His cheeks flushed, his eyes dropped.

  “I think I can fit you in.”

  “What do you want to do?” Chuckling, I asked, “Besides the obvious?”

  Lips close to my ear, his deep voice resonated the promise of hot nights filled with wanton sex. “Mmm, besides making love, Shay. What else would you like to do with me?”

  A loaded question if ever I heard one. It took a mighty effort to decide, but I settled for, “Kinda still hung up on the whole romance, seduction thing you promised.”

  He eased back, acting innocent. “Day out with the boys on the trawler in addition to the cocktail party from hell didn’t do it for you?”

  My fingers dug into his sides, hitting ticklish spots up and down his ribs. “Wasn’t it a gala?”

  “Fete, maybe.” He lowered his mouth, pressing two soft kisses before taking my lips in a searing kiss, his tongue searching mine out, advancing and retreating.

  I breathlessly moaned, “Mmm, fete it is.”

  This was a tete-a-tete I could learn to love.

  Chapter 10

  Sealing the Deal

  I was in for a penny, in for a pound, and my heart pounded every time I thought of Reardon. It was naive, stupid, and it definitely wasn’t about the easy cash for a quick screw anymore. With a disapproving harrumph and her holier-than-thou comments, Constance–my newly named conscience–settled in for the long haul, sizing me up and talking me down from my pie-in-the-sky ideas of being Reardon’s girlfriend.

  The grass is always greener, too-correct Constance advised with a know-it-all smirk.

  Maybe the grass only looks greener because it’s well tended, I retorted. Mowed...often...in fact.

  I wanted to get mowed, ploughed, licked, sucked–

  Loved? Connie snidely remarked.

  Loved?

  She referred to a conversation I’d overheard the morning after t
he launch party for Jeremy Ladson. Temp had whispered, “I don’t know how long she can keep this up, Reardon.”

  A clatter of kitchenware sounded as loud as my heartbeats. “Sorry, Temperance. I know. It’s either like this, or I have to let her go.” His voice sounded raw.

  Sneaking to the corner, I’d flattened myself to the wall to see Temp’s hands on her hips. “Don’t be such an ass.” Nice one. “You want to lose her?”

  “She’s married!”

  “Words only now, by my reckonin’.”

  “Shay’s different.”

  Temp had whisked the eggs like she was scrambling his brains. “So she is, young man. She’s falling in love with you.”

  What? No I wasn’t. Our arrangement was a matter of economic convenience. Nothin’ to do with my emotions.

  I’d hurried away, hiding my face, flustered by emotion. Walking me to my car, Reardon held my elbow but kept his eyes forward. He’d stopped me from shutting the door, bending to kiss the top of my head, letting go with a tap of his knuckles on the roof.

  * * * *

  My concerns about basically everything were waylaid–the most miniscule amount–by Jane when we had our second post-launch lunch. At least for a couple minutes.

  “I’ve known about Reardon’s proclivities for some time.”

  Proclivities? Pro-clitties, more like.

  “Mom and Daddy don’t though.”

  Amen for that.

  “I don’t want this to end badly for you, Shay.” She gnawed on a chicken wing. “How much has he told you?”

  “Very little. I know about Ransome.” I reached for her hand. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

  She rolled her eyes, “Yeah, when you meet him, don’t be givin’ him those puppy dog eyes. He’s the least sorry sumbitch you ever met.”

  “Sounds like my kinda guy.”

  “He’s every girl’s kinda guy, judgin’ by the rumors.” She winked. “But I’d say Reardon’s more your match. If y’all can handle the fallout.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He can be aloof and an all-around pain in the ass. But he didn’t seem that way with you.”

  “He’s not. Usually.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “What does?”

  “Y’all got somethin’ more than chemistry in common.”

  “Such as?”

  Rummaging through her bag, she’d spared me a knowing look. “Been emotionally destroyed, right? But fought your way out of it, anyway y’all could.”

  Fuck.

  * * * *

  A couple days later, I was back at The Tides, plucking my way through the knee-deep pluff mud of a possible relationship, when I was still attached to Palmer. No one answered the door, so I let myself in, feeling like the Penthouse Pauper from Aerosmith’s fuck-anthem Love in an Elevator. I helped myself to the liquor cabinet and headed to the balcony to watch the palm fronds and reeds dancing below in the evening’s hazy heat.

  A few minutes later, Reardon moved through the lounge, dropping his jacket, unknotting his tie, unbuttoning his shirt at the neck and wrists.

  When he joined me, I lifted my heel to the lower railing and arched my back slightly. “You’re late. This doesn’t bode well.” I played back the words he’d said so many weeks ago.

  He caught on with a sexy smile, sauntering to me. “What you gonna do, Shay? Demote me?”

  Promote you to head Pussy Licker more like. Chief Cunnilinger, Sheriff of Naughtyham…

  As he closed the distance, I noticed the dark circles under his eyes. “You’re tired.”

  “Never too tired for you.” He surrounded me in his arms, against the sleek banister. We skipped right over the ‘hi there’ kiss and went straight to ‘God, I missed you.’ Greedy, plundering mouths saying everything.

  A great storm rolled in behind us, charging the atmosphere with electricity that raised the ends of my hair. Thunderclouds unleashed jagged lightning streaks that escaped to the Wando River.

  I hummed into the warm musk of his throat. “Hmm. You okay?”

  “I should be asking you.” Studying my eyes, Reardon plaited his fingers through my hair.

  “And you do, a lot. Y’all are very attentive, not just in the sack.” His lips quirked. I tried again. “You look after so many people, baby, who takes care of you?”

  Intensity wrapped around us while the indistinct yells of kids running wild in the playground below made him squeeze my fingers. A familiar aching wistfulness overpowered me. “Don’t you want children?”

  Under the same sad spell, he said, “No.” His voice was so desperately low, so completely raw, and sure. “I have nothing to give a child.” A terrible tightness pulled his expression inward.

  My heart seized. “Reardon.” I reached for him.

  He withdrew, sitting on a sun lounger, trying to appear relaxed by crossing his arms behind his head. “I made plans for tonight. There’s something I want to give you, in the bedroom.”

  I ignored the hot thrill his words suggested. “We could talk, instead.”

  Sitting forward, he winked. “Oh, there’ll be talkin’. Dirty talk.”

  Aaand he was back.

  “You look sexy. I like your sandals.”

  More House of Jessica Simpson than styled by that Louboutin fellow, my sandals did the walking.

  “Maybe we should start by taking them off.” He motioned to his lap. “Put ’em here.” His fingertips tucked inside the straps, jerking me closer. “Pretty.” My ankle in his hand, he slowly unclasped the tiny buckles, working thin leather lashes from my ankles, heels, toes. Soon, his hands massaged the soles of my bare feet, sending shockwaves to my swelling center.

  He stood. “Come.”

  After the half-million-mile trek to his room, he took his damn sweet time. Door closed. Lights low. Wine decanted and sipped. He turned me toward the mirror, lips against my shoulder.

  He fingered the material snugging the base of my spine, then gave a tug to the bow tied at my neck. “Let’s get rid of these too.” His fingers moved to my skirt, loosening it until everything puddled on the floor.

  Reardon nudged me forward, his knuckles brushing my breasts. “Look at yourself. Watch my hands on you.”

  In the mirror, I gasped. Watching his fingers sliding up my body, the sensations doubled.

  “Beautiful.” Large hands–tan against my pale skin–molded my breasts until the nipples peeked out between his fingers.

  “Reardon.” I tilted my head for a kiss.

  “So much I want to give you.”

  Oh God, yesss.

  Leaning to the side, he reached for something...hmm...ahh...his hands returned. Oh! I closed my eyes, opening them again when a...what?

  He ran a long black box between my breasts, warming it with deep slides through my cleavage. When he opened it, my gaze flew to his. He uncoiled the gem-studded rope of pearls, running it over my skin. I never was a pearls sort of girl, always thought they were a southern sorority accessory. But these? They were something else. One long strand of lustrous mocha colored beads separated by tiny diamonds. The necklace didn’t end in a clasp, but with delicate platinum tassels.

  Tassels he flicked over my nipples repeatedly until chills chased across my body.

  Bringing one of the pearls to my mouth, I bit it.

  Reardon’s eyebrow rose.

  The pearl didn’t crack but my voice sure did. “Um. Just makin’ sure?”

  The strand looped around my neck, he teased, “You did it all wrong, darlin’.”

  He walked around me and ran his hands to my bottom, arching me to him until my tits jutted forward. He licked my nipples into shiny pink buttons. Tucking a few pearls in his mouth, he brought the tip of my breast inside with the precious stones and his tongue. Lap, lap, lap.

  “If it’s gritty…” He licked the circumference of my breast and went to work on the other side. “…it’s real.”

  In the mirror, I watched Reardon behind me again. His palms pressed
the pearls into my skin, massaging them back and forth. “Mmm. The way these glow remind me of you, when you come.”

  This would be the dirty talk portion of the evenin’.

  His lips settled near my ear. “These are yours, as am I.”

  My heart banged when he rearranged the necklace to hang evenly from my neck. “Since you like my ties so much, I’m gonna give you a lesson.”

  “Am I getting graded on this?” I moaned.

  “Shhh.” He snapped the tasseled ends against my nipples, a score of fiery whips.

  “Aaah!”

  “Still can’t keep quiet, Shay?”

  My mouth parted for a low whimper.

  “Need something in your pretty mouth to shut you up?”

  Jesus, yes please.

  His hands worked surely, fashioning a knot at my neck, his voice rumbling from behind with an erotic tutorial, slipping, sliding, adjusting.

  “This is a four-in-hand,” he explained. Two fingers scissoring open the inverted triangle of heavy pearls, he pulled on my nipples with the pearls curled inside the hill of his palm. “I like it, because it’s slim and smart...and tight.”

  Finishing with a flourish, the tie dangling between my breasts, the tails tapping my clit, he repeated with a soft jerk on the necklace, “You like my ties, right?”

  My eyelids slammed shut, my body a taut wire fraying apart with every word, every tease, every coarse caress. “Yes, Reardon.”

  “Good girl.” Skimming his hand down my spine, he bent me forward. I grabbed the mirror. My nerves tingled, heat fanned from my pussy, and he entered me with two fingers, using his inverted four-in-hand move.

  I undulated against him, the brush of the necklace shivering across my nipples. “Yeah, yeah, Reardon.”

  Hauled up to his languid kiss, I was bowed by the fast tempo of his plunging fingers. His unrushed kiss clashed with the thrust-thrust-thrust inside me. A few swipes of his thumb against my clit made me scream in orgasm, “Oh, Fuck!”

  He kept swirling, slowing.

  In the mirror, his heavy lidded eyes found mine. Withdrawing from me, he licked his fingers. “Hungry?”