Sugar

by Seressia Glass

  Yeah, Charlie didn’t have to try to seduce her. She was doing a pretty good job of seducing herself.

  The buildup of sexual frustration had led her to change out of her comfortable work clothes on the days she met with him and into something a little more . . . accessible. Today she wore one of her more demure Sugar Malloy outfits, a snap-front shirtwaist of pale blue with a fitted waist and a full skirt. Since she had rehearsal that evening, it was a simple matter of changing early instead of waiting until after she and Charlie were done for the day. Maybe today would be the day. She was horny enough to break her self-imposed rule about focusing on business and take a detour into pleasure.

  But first . . . “I owe you an apology.”

  Charlie looked up in surprise. “Do you now? I’m all ears.”

  “I’m being serious.” She took a fortifying breath against the teasing light in the sea-blue depths of his eyes. “I misjudged you.”

  The teasing glint dimmed. “How did you misjudge me?”

  “I dismissed you when I first saw you as some young surfer-god playboy with a string of brokenhearted college coeds in your wake.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think I’m supposed to take that as a compliment.”

  “I wasn’t being complimentary,” she admitted, noting the slight tightening of his jaw. She didn’t want to anger him, but apologizing for her misconceptions was important to her. “When you started flirting with me during your sales pitch, I thought you were doing it just to get our business and not because you were interested in me. So it was easy to dismiss it, and you.”

  With his smile gone, his face reshaped itself into something harder, older, making her miss his teasing expression and hope she hadn’t just permanently relocated herself to his bad side. “I would like to point out that I’d ended my sales pitch before pointing out how beautiful you are, but I’m still stuck on the fact that you dismissed me so easily even after that.”

  “I never said it was easy,” she retorted. “It wasn’t. Regardless, I’m sorry I thought of you that way.”

  He spun the task chair until he faced her fully. Though seriousness still painted his features, his body language was alert, primed. “How do you think of me now, Siobhan?”

  God. When his voice dropped into that seductive burr, it was hard to concentrate. “I . . . I think you’re a very capable and intelligent man who knows his business. I admire the solutions you’ve tailored for our company.”

  His gaze dropped to the pulse beating rapidly at the base of her throat, lingered on her lips, then lifted to meet her gaze as if he knew the effect he had on her. “Is that all you think, considering how not easy it was to dismiss me after all?”

  A flash of irritation had her snapping out, “Are you going to accept my apology or not?”

  He studied her, and she fought the urge to shift in her chair. “I’ll accept it,” he said, his tone serious. “On one condition.”

  The way he said it put her instantly on alert. “What’s that?”

  “I want you to kiss me,” he told her, his voice blunt. “A real mouth-to-mouth kiss for at least thirty seconds.”

  Surprise shoved her eyebrows up. “That’s one hell of a request,” she said, unable to decide whether she should laugh or punch him.

  “You owe me one hell of an apology.”

  “You want me to kiss you before you’ll accept my apology?”

  “I want the kiss to be your apology,” he answered. “It’s the least I deserve for the slight to my character, don’t you think?”

  She folded her arms. “I think you’re beginning to prove that my initial assumptions were correct!”

  “I’ve stuck to my promise of business before pleasure,” Charlie pointed out. “We’re done with everything we had on the agenda for today.”

  “But—”

  “You stated your need to apologize, and I laid out my conditions for accepting said apology.”

  “You’re a piece of work,” she groused, unable to be mad at him. “Is everything business with you?”

  “I thought that was how you wanted me.” Mischief danced in his eyes. “If you prefer me some other way, just say so.”

  She threw up her hands in exasperation. “I’ll give you points for being persistent, that’s for damn sure.”

  “I’d rather you give me that kiss.”

  Siobhan stared at Charlie, feeling out of her depth. She had five years on him, dammit. She should have been the one keeping him off-kilter, channeling her inner Mrs. Robinson. Instead she’d spent days and way too many nights fantasizing about his touch, his kisses, and more. Even practicing for her burlesque performances, the one thing guaranteed to take her mind off her worries and troubles, couldn’t excise him. Instead she imagined singing for him, seducing him with her striptease. Layer by layer, piece by piece, revealing to him almost everything he’d imagined and wanted.

  Fuck Mrs. Robinson. Charlie was about to be introduced to Sugar Malloy.

  * * *

  Siobhan surprised him by pulling out her smartphone and attaching it to a small speaker on her desk. “I’m going to give you something better than a thirty-second kiss,” she informed him, pushing to her feet. “When I’m done, you’ll be the one apologizing, not me.”

  “Oh, really?”

  Siobhan raised her chin, putting Charlie on instant alert. Had he pushed her too far? He didn’t think so. She struck him as the type of woman who wasn’t a frail, fragile flower but was still feminine, who could give as good as she got and not take crap from anyone. If she minded his teasing, he had no doubt she’d tell him so.

  Instead her lips curled into a Mona Lisa “you’re gonna get it now” smile that hardened his cock with anticipation. God, he needed to do everything in his power to move beyond an apology kiss and into gratitude orgasms.

  Keeping her gaze locked to his, Siobhan rose from her seat, moving around the desk to face him. She wore a pale blue dress that transformed from simple to sexy thanks to the snap closure that ran the length of the front, the wide dark blue belt, and the blue-and-white polka-dot heels that showed off her legs to perfection. It was so different from what he usually saw her in that he’d been dumbstruck for a full minute when he’d first seen her. She looked as if she’d stepped out of a retro advertisement for MILFs.

  “Turn your chair this way,” she ordered, indicating that he face her. He shoved the armless chair around, wondering if she’d straddle his lap to deliver her apology kiss. He sure as hell hoped so, since she’d probably have to hike up her skirt, putting her sweet heat close to his aching cock. The act would fuel a few wet dreams until he could convince her to go for more.

  He slapped his thighs to encourage her to take a seat. “I’m ready for my apology kiss, Ms. Malloy.”

  She rewarded him with a low and throaty laugh. “Anyone can kiss for thirty seconds, Mr. O’Halloran. What I’m going to give you is so much better, you’ll drop to your knees in gratitude.”

  He raised a brow, her assertiveness flipping his switch. “You think so?”

  She leaned forward, giving him a perfect view of her creamy cleavage. The scent of baked things, sweet things, and the light hint of spice that was unique to Siobhan filled his nose and drop-kicked his brain. A hunger that had nothing to do with food and everything to do with her seized him.

  “Think so?” she echoed. “Sweetheart, I know so.” She gave him a wink before straightening. Striking a pose that arched her back and thrust her breasts out, she reached up and pulled out the clip that held her hair up. Golden waves tumbled down around her shoulders, prodding him to reach for her and sink his hands into the sun-kissed curls.

  “Uh-unh,” she admonished, wagging her finger at him. “No touching. Whatever you do, don’t move until I tell you to. Understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He’d asked for the kiss because her mouth had been driving him insane for days. Natural, barely glossed, or painted fire-engine red, he wanted that mouth, wanted to know what it tasted like, what it
felt like. Wanted to know if she’d part her lips under the pressure of his, let him shove his tongue inside and take her mouth. Wanted to lightly sink his teeth into that full bottom lip. Hell, he’d spent several nights with his hand around his dick imaging her mouth sucking him dry.

  She was an obsession that was beginning to consume his days. He had to do something about it, if only to get her out of his system—no matter how foolish an idea that was. Prodding her for the kiss was a way to get what he wanted while giving her the control. He had a feeling that if he took over too quickly, Siobhan would freak and slam the door down between them, and that was unacceptable. So he kept his hands hanging loosely at his sides, waiting for her next move.

  She danced back, a teasing glint igniting her eyes. Sitting on the edge of her desk, she reached back, tapped her phone. A soft, bluesy melody wafted into the air. He tried to place the song but all thought fled as Siobhan began to move.

  God bless America. With slow, sinuous movements she slid to her feet, rolling her hips with every movement as a woman’s soulful voice sang about her desire for sugar in a bowl. Her hands slid down her chest to her waist. As he watched, she unhooked the wide belt at her waist then stepped forward to drape it over his shoulder.

  Holy shit, was she stripping for him? “Siobhan?”

  She pressed a forefinger to his lips, then executed a spin away from him, her skirt flaring and showing more of her gorgeous legs. Keeping her back to him, she swayed, her arms graceful as she raised her arms. Then he heard pop, pop, pop, his mind conjuring an image of each snap on the front of her dress bursting open in perfect harmony to the bass beat of the music and the echoing throb in his veins.

  The grin she tossed over her shoulder hit him with seductive heat and teasing. Then she opened the dress—still with her back to him—and did a shimmy. He leaned forward, licking his lips in anticipation of the reveal, forgetting to breathe as she slipped the dress off one shoulder then the next. Another shimmy, then she let the dress fall off her arms before tossing it onto the desk.

  Fuck me.

  Siobhan wore a gold and sapphire-blue waist-thingy—a corset, he recalled—with the laces revealing the line of her spine and accenting her waist. Matching ruffled panties cupped her buttocks, and little blue ribbons hung down and clipped to her thigh-high stockings. She spun in a slow circle, giving him a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of perfection. He had to reach down and grip himself hard through his pants as his cock strained with the urge to come.

  As the music continued, she reached behind her and loosened the laces of her corset, gyrating her hips in a series of movements that boiled his blood. She spun around to face him, a seductive siren’s smile on her bright red lips as she opened the corset one hook at a time. It joined the dress on the desk, leaving her in a bra, panties, and that belt-like bit of blue lace that attached to the ribbons.

  She strutted to him, and with perfect balance lifted one leg high before resting her foot on the seat between his spread thighs. She gestured, and it took him a moment to realize that she wanted him to remove her shoe. He quickly slipped it off, his fingers grazing over her calf as she lowered her left leg then repeated the move with her right. He removed that shoe too, and was rewarded with a wink. God help him, he’d never been so horny in his life.

  He bit the inside of his cheek, using the flash of pain to blunt the urge to throw her on the desk, drop his pants and fuck her until they broke the desk. This was what they meant by striptease. This was a master at work. This was art.

  As he watched, she danced back to the desk and sat down on the edge. The way she kicked her legs and smiled at him bludgeoned his brain cells, erasing all higher thought. Posing sexily, she slid both hands down each thigh and opened the snaps holding her stockings, then undulated her way out of the lacy belt-thing circling her waist. Next came the stockings, rolled down her beautiful legs one by one.

  Then she did a shoulder shake, and her bra straps fell down her arms. He was panting now, he knew it—like a dog after a female in heat, especially when she reached for the front clasp holding her bra closed. Her gaze locked to his as she held her bra to her breasts, then she opened it and let it fall to the floor.

  Pasties. Bright blue sparkly pasties covered her nipples and areolae, but dear God, her full breasts sat up proudly and moved like they were real. They bounced as she sprang to her feet, stuck her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and did a heart-stopping shimmy that dropped the lacy fabric to her feet, leaving her in what he realized was a flesh-colored G-string. As the music reached a crescendo, she straddled his lap and entwined her arms around his neck. His dick surged against his zipper as her heat settled onto his lap.

  He didn’t know where to look—at the full breasts pressed against his chest, the nude-colored thong that barely hid her pussy, or the bright blue eyes that gazed at him with lust, pride, and a hint of vulnerability.

  “I’m sorry,” he said thickly once he remembered how to speak. “For everything I’ve done up to this point and everything coming after. I’m sure as hell sorry that I didn’t try harder to learn what you wear under your clothes.”

  Her husky laugh bounced her tits and brushed her thong-covered mound against his zipper. He gritted his teeth, still not touching her though he burned with the need to run his hands up her waist to her beautiful breasts. Good things came to those who waited, right?

  She sank her hands into his hair. “Apologies accepted. Now be a good boy and hold still for your thirty-second kiss.”

  Oh hell yeah, things were very good indeed.

  SIX

  Siobhan straddled Charlie’s lap, more turned on than she’d ever been in her life. Performing with the burlesque troupe was a way for her to feel sexy and empowered on her own terms, but this was different. She’d never done a striptease for an audience of one before—hadn’t wanted to do a private striptease before. Charlie, however, brought out that side of her she hid under layers of sweetness, that side that wanted to be very, very bad. The side that needed to be fucked in the worst way.

  But first, a thirty-second kiss.

  She pushed his hair back from his eyes, their pupils blown wide with lust. Pride swelled within her. It was a heady thing to know that she, with her thirty-five-year-old post-motherhood body, could arouse him like this. The thick ridge of his cock pressed against the zipper of his dark khakis, which put it right beneath her with only a couple of layers of fabric separating them. If she wanted, she could dry-hump him to glory. As strung tight with desire as she was, it wouldn’t take long to reach orgasm. But she wanted more, much more.

  Done with torturing him and herself, Siobhan darted her tongue out for a first taste of him. He parted his lips as her tongue swept over his mouth, the sharp spice of him bursting on her tongue and sending a bolt of lust shooting straight to her core. He tasted good, so good. She licked at his mouth again, tracing the contour of his lips before lightly taking the bottom one between her teeth and gently biting down.

  He shuddered and bucked upward once, and the feel of his erection pressing against her made her want to swoon. The embers of desire flared to life as Charlie took over the kiss, cupping her face in his palms. His tongue pushed into her mouth, hot and wet and oh so perfect. Moisture seeped into her G-string as she rocked against him with an instinctive movement as she greedily took the almost punishing kiss he meted out. Nothing mattered except this feeling, this moment. This man.

  His fingers sank into the hair at the back of her neck, holding her away. “Siobhan.”

  She forced her eyelids up, too drunk on erotic thoughts to fully appreciate the clenched jaw, the tightness about his eyes. “Y-yes?”

  “A man’s only got so much willpower,” he ground out. “When the beautiful woman he’s been lusting after for weeks strips for him, then sits in his lap, it’s cruel and unusual punishment to leave him with only a kiss.”

  Did he really think this was the end? “No, no, no. No stopping.” Kissing wasn’t enough, rock
ing against him wasn’t enough. Nothing would be except experiencing his cock plunging inside her.

  His big hands slid down to cup her buttocks. Recognizing his intent, she wrapped her legs around his waist as he stood, turned, then laid her down on the desk. “More,” he muttered. “I need to taste more.”

  He parted her thighs, staring down at the silky scrap of material that she knew she’d already soaked through. Her eyes rolled back in her head as he pressed his index finger against her silk-covered slit, his knuckle brushing against her painfully engorged clit. Her hips lifted involuntarily, craving more pressure, craving more of him.

  His questing fingers followed the swath of fabric to the string waistband. She lifted her hips again as he slowly pulled the thong away from her pussy, down her legs, and off, leaving her bared to his gaze. His hands slid up her calves, the pads of his fingers almost rough on her soft skin as he cupped her knees and parted them. “You are so fucking beautiful,” he breathed, his voice raw and reverent. “I’m gonna enjoy tasting you. Take my time and then I’m gonna fuck you slow.”

  The blunt words made her moan with hunger. She didn’t think she could handle slow, certainly not for breaking her self-imposed sex-fast, and certainly not when it came to Charlie and his drugging kisses.

  She heard him drag the chair closer before he sat down between her open thighs. A tremble swept through her as his thumbs stroked over her damp folds, opening her. As soon as she balanced her feet on his wide shoulders, he lowered his head to taste her.