Sugar Daddy

by Rie Warren

  “Maybe it can.”

  The kiss we shared was a slow sizzling warm-up. When our tongues touched, it was I want that. Our fingers gripping said I need you. The way he glided me up his torso while I angled my head in a perfect fit spoke clearly of Oh yes.

  Between panting breaths, we said the most important words out loud: “I love you.”

  Gathering the pathetic haul of our work, guiding me with his free hand, Reardon stowed everything in the trunk of his car. “Let’s go for a swim.”

  “We didn’t bring–”

  He pulled out two huge fluffy towels.

  “I was gonna say bathing suits.”

  “Even better.” His smile was wolfish.

  The tide turned, racing spiritedly toward shore, only to break in gentle wavelets. We headed back to the water, hand-in-hand. The creek grasses and old wooden trolley bridge glowed moonlight white, setting off a romantic scene.

  We crossed the shallows to a sandbar, sooty-soft underfoot and hoarding the warmth from the earlier sun.

  A quick dip to my mouth, dropping his shorts at the last minute, he dashed into the inlet’s lazy ripples. “C’mon, darlin’, it’s warm.”

  When he stood, I took back my earlier thought. There was nothin’ finer than Reardon, in the moonlight, wet and inviting.

  “That a challenge?” I called.

  “Damn right.”

  Putting on a show, I took my time all the way to the scraps of my bra and the nothingness of my panties. Every article of clothing discarded found him a few steps closer to shore until he ran at me, catching me in his arms. His kiss smothered my false cries of outrage as he raced back into the water.

  “Mmm,” he hummed when my nipples floated bright and obvious through transparent fabric. Sloping down, his fingertips pinched and released, commanding my breath as he drew the buds erect.

  I leaned back, releasing the catch, baring my breasts to the pulls of his mouth. The ends of my hair spread by the current, my pussy wet by more than water.

  Hot and hard, his length found me where my body boiled over. I eased my hands between us, inching his briefs over his glorious erection until the waistband snugged under his balls. “Here?”

  “Now.”

  There was nothing but a lacey string to pull aside and my fingers to guide him inside and oh, the feel of him filling me. Blazing on the outside, steely on the inside, stretching me. Cool water eddied around us, licking my body while he lapped all over my breasts.

  I crossed my ankles at his backside, digging in as his thrusts forced moans from my mouth.

  Held by Reardon’s hands on my ass, I came. He buried his face between my breasts, his raspy scruff and the thick rush of his release spurring me on until I rose above the waves, a keening mermaid.

  Clinging to his shoulders against the drifting tide, I kissed him drowsily. “We didn’t hardly catch any shrimp.”

  “I’ve caught you, Shay. That’s all that matters.” He sealed his declaration with a sultry mesh of lips and tongues.

  * * * *

  Reardon looks after his own.

  Palmer had looked after me, the best he could.

  I’d sat on the bed with the wrapped parcel in my hands every day since he’d left.

  It seemed the smallest gesture, but I couldn’t get my feet to move.

  Not yesterday, or the day before.

  But I could do it today.

  Only person I’d looked after at the end of our marriage was myself, felt like.

  ’Bout time I gave something back to Palmer.

  Driving out 17 North, destination Bulls Bay Marine Contractors, my heart sat right in the middle of my throat.

  Rolling up my window against the chalky dust when I hit the dirt track, I gunned over potholes and pebbles chewing holes in the rusted muffler of my Honda. Skidding to a stop in the gray gravel lot, I saw Curtis first.

  His poker face was as good as ever. He returned my wave, but his expression never wavered.

  I hollered, “Know where I can find Palmer?”

  His bushy brows beetled, he tied his meaty arms around his chest. “You got some balls comin’ out here, Shay.”

  “I’m not here to hurt him.”

  “S’pose not. Not much more you could do that you haven’t already.” It took him a minute to decide if I’d do more harm than good. Finally he shoved his arm to the left. “Thataway.” He turned on his heel and lumbered away, spitting a long stream of brown baccy juice to the ground.

  I came across Palmer in the outbuilding bent over stacks of plans with a crew surrounding him, and cleared my throat.

  His cornflower blue eyes alight with passion I hadn’t seen in months crashed with mine, their fire doused so fast I heard the hiss.

  He dismissed the men. “Y’all can knock off for fifteen.”

  They cut a wide swath around me while I made my way toward Palmer.

  At the drafting table, I laid the box down. “I wanted to give you this.”

  The only thing neat and tidy about our break-up was the parcel in his hands. He inspected me like I was a rough draft with out-of-plumb dimensions he could never get right.

  “It’s Delilah’s ultrasound, the one I gave you.”

  He tore through the paper and into the box, lifting out the shared image we had of our daughter. Holding it against his chest, he steadied himself against the corner of the high table. Once he’d gulped a few times, he laid the picture down, fingers tracing the wobbly image.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “Me too.”

  “We just weren’t–”

  “Strong enough. I know.” Suddenly, his palms were on my face. “I hope you’re happy, Shay.” Genuine emotion made his voice break.

  I covered his hands with mine. “I want you to be happy too, Palmer.”

  Sadness flooded his features, rising in his eyes until he closed them. “This hurts.”

  I nodded.

  “This is the last time, huh?” he asked shakily.

  Snapping my hip to his, I dared a heartbroken smile. “Nah, you’ll see me again. Remember, it’s only Mount Pleasant.”

  “I mean the last time I can hold you,” he explained in a cautious tone. “Can I? Hug you?”

  “You always could.”

  “Guess that was my problem.”

  He folded me into him. Sawdust and sweat and Palmer.

  The brief respite didn’t last long. He walked me to the Honda. “She looks good.”

  “She’s hangin’ in there.”

  We weren’t talking about my car.

  He helped me inside, running fingertips along the window frame instead of my face.

  While I backed away, he stood and watched.

  He raised a hand and half a smile.

  I pulled over as soon as I was out of sight, blindsided by feelings, blinded by tears.

  A half hour passed before I could put the car in gear again.

  Driving forward.

  * * * *

  It took a good few weeks to feel comfortable spending the entire night with Reardon. But I never did get totally accustomed to being with him. I just...I couldn’t get over the way he looked at me, lovingly, passionately, as if I was something so precious to him.

  I figured the butterflies tickling my tummy would settle down, but they remained fluttery as ever. I clamored for any contact I could get with him, from the innocent brush of fingertips to the intimate slide of his roughened palms caressing, arousing my flesh.

  In addition to feeding my addiction to his virile body–over and over again–he became one of my closest friends.

  On the day I invited him to my house for a picnic, I fought the impulse to curl into a ball–the same position I’d found him in, mourning Will–when he wandered through Delilah’s garden. His fingertips glanced over fragile flower petals, his gaze pinned on me. Squatting in front of the statue, he touched the babe’s face, pressed his forehead to the mother’s stomach, and returned to take me in his arms.


  “Thank you for showing me.” His words were soothing as his gentle rocking motion.

  Afterward, after so much cold, lonely bereavement, we succumbed to the warmth of love and peace, sharing our lives.

  Sometimes the contrast between our interests was as shocking as our intense attraction. I took him to a monster truck rally, he took me back to DeBordieu. Other times it made damn good sense: fishing, funning, fucking. Simple pleasures taken for granted by most couples were cherished: holding hands, sharing a kiss in public, being openly affectionate.

  Reardon courted me properly and improperly.

  Sauntering into his study with a swish of my hips, I came upon him wheeling and dealing over the phone. Instead of shooing me away, he greeted me with a gorgeous grin, beckoning me to him. Suited but slightly rumpled–one of my favorite looks on him aside from total nudity–he muted the cell with his shoulder to whisper against my mouth, “Hey, darlin’.”

  I whirled my fingers into his soft cap of black curls. “Hi, baby.”

  “Forgive me, Mr. Fordham. I have an appointment I can’t ignore.” He excused himself. There was a reply from the other end to which he laughed. “Ha! Yessir. You got me. My girlfriend just walked in.”

  Once he’d hung up, I preened. “Girlfriend, huh?”

  “Yep.” He smothered a happy grin against my neck.

  “Has a nice ring to it.”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “Hey, listen, before you go gettin’ all boyfriend-like on me, I almost forgot.”

  He stayed tucked under my chin, cutting across my collarbone with his skilled tongue. I rapped on the back of his head until he lifted dark blue eyes. “Hmm, what? I was busy nuzzling my girlfriend.”

  “That may be, buster, but I wanted to ask you somethin’.”

  “Shoot.”

  “When you kicked Slaughter ass-over-end to the curb, you said you’d told your folks about us.”

  “That’s not a question.”

  I huffed. “Well, did you tell ’em everything?”

  “Not that I love you. I needed to say it to you first.”

  Adorable, sexy, smirky man. Figured he could get away with anything now since he could pull the Love Ace. Damn him, it almost invariably worked, too.

  “What about me being married? About me workin’ for you?”

  He took both my hands in his. “I told them you’re married, yes, and you’re my employee.”

  Slipping off his knees, I bent against the desk, burning face aimed low in humiliation.

  “They don’t know what capacity your job is. If they ever find out, I’ll tell them I coerced you.”

  “That’s not true.”

  He raked his hands over his face in exasperation. “It is. I’ll take the blame. You won’t be implicated by my actions, Shay.”

  “I’m not sorry.”

  “Me either.”

  “I won’t be ashamed about us.” I lifted my head higher.

  A smile cruised across his lips. “I’m certainly not.” His hands lifted to my cheeks, thumbs softly stroking. “They understand enough to know it’s been complicated. They’re not going to dissect you or your marriage or question how our relationship started.”

  “Okay.” I chewed nervously on my bottom lip.

  “They’re happy for us.”

  “Oh-kay,” I said amidst a scattering of little tears.

  “They don’t know I got far more than I bargained for, which rarely happens, I’ll have you know.”

  “Really,” I replied.

  He charmed me with his most winning grin. “Yeah.”

  “Then you got one more thing to tell them.”

  His eyebrows shot sky high. “You’re moving in with me?”

  “Uh, no. Not yet.”

  He sulked.

  “You can let Charley and Norrie know I don’t work for you anymore.”

  Speaking through gritted teeth, he demanded, “What?”

  “I quit!” I grinned.

  In hindsight, the grinning thing was overkill. His formerly playful expression became pained.

  “Oh, don’t be lookin’ like I let the air out of the tires of all your cars, Reardon. You get the goods for free. Ain’t that better?”

  His lips thinned and his fingers worked over his face, blotting out what I was saying.

  “All’s I did was get a job.”

  “You have a job,” he grumbled.

  I waited until he gave in.

  Suspicion made him run his forefinger over his bottom lip. “Doing what?”

  “Well, certainly not as a personal assistant, if that’s what y’all are worried about.”

  “No, I never...that’s not what I meant.” He sighed. “I know it would be better for us, healthier.”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “Where’s your job?”

  I rewarded his effort with a peck on his cheek and an excited bounce. “Abide Awhile.”

  “The plant nursery?”

  “Yeah, what’s wrong with raisin’ plants and waterin’ flowers? I’m sure you did your fair share of waterin’ the bushes when you were younger.”

  “Might have whipped it out a time or two.” He regarded me closely. “You think you’ll like it?”

  “Not as much as getting it on with you, but yes, I do. Gardening’s the one time I get to make things grow, you know?”

  “Of course.” His hand warmed my belly, empty of child. “I already know you’re good at it. I can’t help wanting to take care of you though,” he admitted.

  “You do, baby.”

  His face brightening, he looked so youthful. “I do?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I’m not talking about sex, Shay,” he grouched.

  “I know.” I hugged him real close and whispered in his ear, “I’ve never known a man like you before, Reardon Dade Boone. You’re kind, loving, fun, the sexiest millionaire I’ve ever met–”

  He chuckled.

  “And, you take such good care of me, all of me. I love you.”

  Offering his hand, he gestured to the door. “Come.”

  “Wait, where? You’re not gonna lock me away somewhere like a good-for-nothin’ Neanderthal so I can’t go to work, are you?”

  Propelling me down the hallway, he led me into the bedroom. “You’re not on my payroll, darlin’, I got it. Now, I’m gonna make love to you, for the rest of the afternoon, and evening, and night…”

  I was laid out on my side in his bed, our clothes in piles on the floor. Our undressing had been unhurried and teasing. A kiss here, a hand between my legs dividing my flesh, my fingers testing the weight of his sac, the pulsing length of his cock from the delicious dark forest of his crisp hair to the broad pink crown of his tip.

  His words were almost inaudible when he reclined against me. “You are so beautiful. Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

  His chest hairs tickled my back. The muscles of his stomach contracted against my ass. His thigh wound between my legs, and his erection was a scorching rod growing thicker and wetter as it drove into my pussy.

  Cupping my breasts, pushing them together, he pinched my nipples. Arching onto my back, I drowned in uninhibited sensation. The feel of him, the taste of his skin when I bit into his forearm and licked his bicep.

  Reardon tempered his long, slow strokes with quiet groans. “Like that?” Dragging my calf to his chest, one ankle on his shoulder, my other leg opened to the side, he bit his way to my inner thigh.

  “Mmm, yeahhh,” I moaned. “Oh God.”

  He went deeper–fast in, grinding and gyrating his hips, slowly withdrawing all the way out. Every time his cock left me, my hips rose, my shoulders came off the bed, a long whimper escaping my parted, panting lips.

  Gathering my hair from my face, he touched his mouth to mine in a silky dance of tongues. “Wanna see your eyes.”

  Picking up a faster rhythm, he thrust into me, pulling out hard with deep grunts. Tapping my clit with the underside of his flared head, gripping my
fingers, he split me open again and again.

  When he came, he stared straight into my eyes and pledged with a hoarse moan, “I only need you, Shay.”

  My body convulsed around his, caught and held in his arms while the high-octane orgasm rocketed from my center all the way to my toes.

  “Okay, darlin’?” His hips rocking a few more times, his hands soothed my trembling body.

  “Yes.” I crushed him to me. “Yes.”

  Sometime later, I woke in his embrace.

  My mouth was dry.

  I was exhausted.

  Reardon mumbled something, then drew me on top of him.

  I patted his chest and waited for sleep.

  My tits were so sore. Not from getting sucked and plucked, I was used to that kind of kinky-owie.

  “Somethin’s different,” I whispered.

  He sleepily slurred, “Different’s good.”

  I let out a quiet laugh. But my disquiet wouldn’t shut the hell up.

  I remembered.

  I was late.

  Popping out of bed, I pressed my palm to my stomach.

  Fate, you fucking whore!

  Chapter 17

  Quid Pro Oh No

  What I was feeling wasn’t the must-get-me-some-Metamucil type of irregularity.

  It was the Clear Blue Easy you-gotta-be-fuckin’-kidding-me kind.

  Leaving Reardon the next morning, I made a dash to the Walgreens.

  At home, I pissed on the stick. Placing it on the side of the sink, I counted to three hundred Miss’ssippi out loud.

  Then I counted to ten hundred.

  Constance my conscience ceased her own count to tell me ten hundred was actually one thousand.

  I threatened to make her capture my pee on the next clean try.

  She went back to her numbers.

  I dreaded looking at the tiny window. Clear Blue Queasy, they should call it. I’d get Reardon to invest.

  I scrubbed that idea right out of my head. I couldn’t think about Reardon. Not while I sat on the toilet with my panties around my ankles and my piss stick waiting.

  Shutting my eyes, I hoped it wasn’t real, it would turn out negative. I couldn’t go through the hope, the happiness, the death again.

  Clasping my hands under my chin, I prayed it was positive, and the pregnancy would stick.

  I peeked at The Stick.

  Squinting, I held it to the harsh fluorescents.