Sugar

by Seressia Glass

  Charlie clamped his hands to his knees then nodded. When Siobhan went into Sugar mode, his higher functions vanished as all his energy went straight to his cock. He was powerless against her while his body raged with the need to fuck her. Now she wanted to put all of that on view for this crowd of half-drunk partiers? This wasn’t a gift. This was torture.

  “All right then. Ladies and gentlemen—are you ready? Then hold on to your tatas, because here. Comes. Sugar Malloy!”

  The crowd clapped as the lights fell. Charlie tightened his grip on his knees, anticipation grabbing him by the balls as he waited for the music, waited for her. Electrified silence filled the club, stretching the tension tighter than a guitar string. Then the opening riff of “Pour Some Sugar on Me” thundered through the speakers.

  Charlie sensed movement behind him. A spotlight hit the stage and the crowd roared and whistled. He craned his head, then felt his mouth drop open as he caught sight of Siobhan standing in the spotlight, dressed as the naughtiest biker babe he’d ever seen.

  Shiny black high-heeled boots laced up her long legs, stopping just above her knees. A black leather miniskirt barely covered her buttocks, concealed by cotton candy pink ruffles. The black leather look continued with the cropped motorcycle jacket she wore over her voluptuous curves, gloves, and a leather cap pulled low over her eyes. Good God, she held a riding crop clamped between her ruby red lips.

  Holy fucking hell. Blood raced to his cock, hardening him to the point of pain. Sugar Malloy was a goddess, his goddess, and she was going to be the death of him. He was sure to die a very happy man.

  A wickedly sexy smile graced her lips as she accepted the raucous approval of the crowd as her just due. She strutted across the stage with an exaggerated sway of her hips, slapping the crop against her booted shin with a loud snap that had Charlie’s tongue lolling out of his head. She passed in front of him in a swish of woman and leather and perfume, and he had to dig his fingers into his knees to prevent himself from reaching for her.

  Then she spun to him, the tip of the crop landing lightly over his heart. He sat up straight, his entire being focused on her and her next move. Facing him, she rested her right hand on the back of his chair. With the grace of a ballet dancer, she raised her left leg into an impressive showgirl kick right in front of his nose before lowering her leg to rest her foot on his knee. She speared him with a glance that clobbered him with the urge to drop to his knees and worship at the altar of her sexiness, sacrificing whatever she wanted.

  He blew out a breath as she spun away behind him, only to feel his balls draw up tight as she repeated the crop-kick-pose maneuver on his other side. This time she ran the crop up her leg to flash the crowd a hint of upper thigh before spinning away again, allowing him the chance to draw a steadying breath.

  Sugar tossed the crop behind her, then pranced to the front of the stage, her hands going to the zipper of her jacket. With a teasing smile she jerked down the zipper in time to the drumbeats, opening the front to reveal a frothy pink lace and satin bustier. The combination of black leather and candy pink lace blew his mind.

  Sauntering over to him again, she held out her arm. He didn’t need to be prodded. He grasped the hem of her sleeve, holding on as she pulled her arm free. She slipped the jacket off her shoulders then swung it over her head before tossing it toward the back of the stage. Striking a pose, she tipped her hat to the crowd before whipping it off and sending it flying backward.

  Ignoring the crowd frothing beyond the spotlight, Charlie followed her every rhythmic movement like a hawk, all the while knowing he was her prey. She had captured him with a glance, with a saucy smile, with the bounce of a curl and the sway of her hips. Whatever she wanted, whatever she needed he would get it for her. He’d slay dragons, tilt at windmills, ram through barriers—

  She flicked her gloved hand before his eyes. He glanced up at her, at the imperious gleam in her eyes and her fingertip pressed against his bottom lip. Obediently he opened his mouth, allowing her to stick the tip of her gloved finger between his teeth. At her raised eyebrow he bit down and she stepped back, pulling free of the elbow-length black glove. She grasped the glove, sliding it over his chest to drape over one shoulder. They repeated the process with her other glove, draping it onto his other shoulder.

  Sugar shimmied in a circuit around the stage, playing to the crowd before sashaying back to him. She thrust her hip toward him, then gestured to her waist. Charlie dutifully popped the snap on the skirt, then held on as she spun away slowly. Layers of the skirt unraveled to reveal Sugar as a cotton candy vision in pink ruffled panties, matching bra and waist cincher, and thigh-high black boots.

  Hot damn.

  He must have reached for her because Sugar wagged her finger at him, then stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the crowd. As he sat there, raging, tormented, she loosened the stays on her waist cincher, rocking her hips from side to side as she pulled the garment away from her smooth, creamy skin.

  The cincher went flying as she turned back to him. A sexy, teasing smile bowed her lips and fired his blood. She leaned forward, hands balanced on his knees. His gaze dropped to her glorious cleavage before returning to her face. Her smile deepened, then she shook her ruffled ass at the audience.

  He growled. She blew him a kiss then straightened. Hooking her fingers into the waistband of her sexy panties, Sugar did that shake-shimmy thing that drove him wild, and the panties slid down her thighs and over her boots, leaving her in a nearly flesh-colored thong. Another series of undulating moves and she whipped off the frothy bra, leaving her in shimmery pasties.

  Two stagehands slid what looked like a kiddie pool in front of him, helped Sugar into it, then one of them handed her a bottle. As the song rolled into its last bridge, Sugar shook the bottle. The lights shifted to black light, making Sugar’s thong and pasties gleam a purple-white and the bottle of liquid neon pink. The crowd roared its approval. As if following the singer’s instructions, Sugar held the bottle high then poured the liquid over her exposed skin, sending rivulets of neon spilling down her luscious curves.

  Holy. Fuck.

  The lights went out as the song ended. Amid thundering applause, Sugar grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet. “Come backstage with me,” she breathed into his ear.

  “Hell yeah,” he agreed, his need for her overriding everything else.

  After accepting a large towel from one of the apprentices and wrapping it about herself, she led them through a flurry of performers, props, and equipment to the smallest dressing room he’d ever seen. He’d seen bigger bathroom stalls. It had room for a chair, makeup table, and lights. A hook held the black wrap dress Siobhan had worn to the club. There was barely enough room for them, but the size of the room no longer mattered as Sugar turned and planted the hottest openmouthed kiss on him he’d ever experienced.

  “I wanted to do something special for your birthday,” she breathed against his lips. “I didn’t want to pick the wrong surfing thing or guitar thing, and I didn’t know what else to get you.”

  She kissed him again. “So I decided to give you me.”

  His vision burned red. Sinking his hands into her hair, Charlie crashed his mouth against hers, holding her where he needed her. The urge to claim her rode him hard. “You’re mine,” he growled against her mouth. “Not theirs, mine.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, the towel slipping down her breasts. “I danced for you, Charlie. Only for you.”

  He reached down with one hand, parting the towel to cup her mound. She was already wet. “I need to fuck you,” he ground out, stroking his finger over her through the skimpy fabric. “If you don’t want that, you need to kick me out now.”

  Her eyes slid closed on a moan. “Can’t,” she breathed. Her eyes opened again, revealing desire glowing in their depths. “Can’t kick you out. I need you too much, but I’m covered in neon sugar.”

  “I don’t care.” He jerked the towel free, tossed it onto the chair. Clumsy with n
eed, he fumbled his fly open then pulled out his aching cock. The flesh-colored G-string Sugar wore proved a flimsy barrier to what he wanted, what he needed, what he craved with every pounding beat of his blood. He spun her around, parted her thighs, then slid home.

  “Yes.” She groaned her approval, her channel already slick with her arousal. She braced her hands against the wall, thrusting that beautiful ass back against him. “Hard and fast, baby. Please, I need to come so bad.”

  He couldn’t have gone slowly if he’d wanted to. Clamping one hand on her shoulder for leverage, he slid the other over her hip, his fingers spearing her tight, damp curls. She groaned again and that was all the permission he needed. Need burned through him as he pounded into her, needing to claim her, needing to fill her, needing to make her come. Need so hot, so damn intense he could already feel it boiling up along his nerves, tightening his balls.

  Fuck, he wasn’t going to last. Gritting his teeth, he slammed into her, stroking her heat with his cock and her clit with his fingers. Mindless to everything but her heat, her curves, her soft moans, he drove them up, up, chasing down the ecstasy that only she could give him.

  Her inner muscles clamped down on him as she came with a muffled cry. Unable to hold back he pounded into her wild and unfettered, then erupted, his vision going white-blind as he jetted deep inside her.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Leaving the club, Siobhan and Charlie headed to her house in a silence thick with sensual anticipation. The quickie in the club had only blunted the edge of her need; by the way Charlie’s knee bounced, he was ready for more too. Good. Performing for Charlie at the club was only part of what she’d planned to give him for his birthday weekend.

  Once inside she stopped in the hallway, gently turning him toward the guest bathroom. “If you’d like to freshen up, I put some things in the guest bath for you.”

  He gave her a mock pout in answer, his expression almost boyish. “Shouldn’t the birthday boy get to wash the neon syrup off his girl? Or at least lick it off?”

  Um, licking. “No.” She shook her head for emphasis. “Your girl has something else in mind. You can come in as soon as you’re done.”

  She covered his heart. “Trust me?”

  He stared down at her, his blue eyes serious. “I do trust you, sweetness.” He caught her chin to give her a kiss so soft and lingering it rocked her to her toes. “Be with you soon.”

  She blinked at his retreating back several moments before making her way into her bedroom. She’d already set the scene for a romantic night by fitting black silk sheets on the bed and arranging candles about the room. After lighting the small votives to bathe the room in soft light, she checked to make sure their naughty supplies were ready, then made her way to the en suite bath.

  Thoughts of Charlie filled her mind as she stood beneath the warm spray, sluicing away the colorful syrup residue. Should she tell Charlie how she felt about him? She wanted to—the emotion bubbled up every time they were together and even when they weren’t. Doubt still crawled through her, cautioning her to keep her burgeoning feelings to herself for a while longer. Not doubts about how she felt—there was a certainty, a rightness to it that she felt in her bones. What she doubted was whether or not Charlie wanted her to love him.

  She knew a large part of her was being irrational. Charlie had pushed for a relationship from the beginning. He demonstrated his desire for her every day in ways both large and small. Confessions of love, though . . . that signified a deepening of the relationship that she wasn’t sure Charlie was looking for, a level of commitment she wasn’t sure either of them was looking for.

  The sex, however, was definitely in demand, she thought as she smoothed scented lotion over her skin. Besides, Charlie was a show-don’t-tell type of guy. She could safely let him know how she felt about him without saying a single word.

  Finishing her preparations, Siobhan slipped into a blush pink sheer baby-doll gown strategically trimmed with marabou feathers, then pulled on the matching robe before stepping into her vintage slippers. It was one of her favorite sets but she’d bought it thinking she’d never have the occasion to wear something so overtly sexy and intimate. Then along came a sexy marketing consultant who’d swept her off her feet. Now it was her turn to sweep him off his.

  Charlie waited for her in the bedroom, lounging on the bed wearing nothing but the bottom half of the royal blue silk pajamas she’d bought for him. He’d slicked his damp hair back from his eyes and they widened with appreciation as she strutted toward him.

  She danced back when he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to make a grab for her. “Do you like your present?”

  “Are you talking about my outfit or yours?”

  She pirouetted slowly, the feathered hem swinging against her thighs. “I mean yours.”

  He ran a hand down his silk-covered thigh. “I like the pajamas. I’ve never slept in anything so nice.” He leaned back, propping himself up with his hands and displaying the generous erection tenting his pants. “Then again, I don’t plan to sleep in them tonight either.”

  She laughed. “I didn’t think you would, Mr. Au Naturel. I wanted you to have something comfortable that you could slip into when you’re staying over. I also made some space for you in the dresser and the closet.”

  The pleasure in his eyes deepened. “You’re the gift that keeps on giving, goddess. I’ll do my best to be a worthy recipient.”

  The dark promise in his tone pulled at her. “You already are,” she told him as she approached, unable and unwilling to stay away from him. “I want to make sure you have the best birthday ever.”

  She straddled his knees, then launched into her impression of Marilyn Monroe singing the birthday song. His large hands warmed her back through the gossamer fabric of her robe, and she entwined her arms about his neck. With every breathy note she sang she lightly ran her mouth over his cheeks, his throat, that gorgeous, giving mouth. As soon as she finished the tune, she kissed him.

  What she’d intended to be a soft kiss immediately burst into more. Charlie fed on her mouth, devouring her like a starving man breaking a fast, as if she were the only source of sustenance he needed. In turn she fell into his kiss, fell into him—then literally fell as he turned, pinning her beneath him. He dragged his mouth over her cheeks, her throat, the rise of her breasts, scorching her with the heat of his desire.

  “Do I get to unwrap my favorite present now?” he asked, his eyes gleaming with mischief and sexual intent.

  “You can, if that’s what you want.” She stared up at him, her heart dancing in her chest. Six months ago she wouldn’t have dared believe that she’d be in a position like this, with a man beautiful inside and out gazing at her as if she held the answer to everything. It was both heady and terrifying, yet as imperfect as she was, she wanted to be those answers for him, wanted to be the goddess he’d named her. “Is there anything else you want, Charlie?”

  “Besides you naked?” He thrust against her, leaving no doubt of his intent. “No, sweetness, I’ve got everything I want.”

  The thickness of his silk-covered erection pressing so sweetly against her core almost distracted her. “Everyone wants something,” she answered, emotion throttling her voice down to a whisper. “Surely you do too.”

  Shadows pooled in his eyes as he balanced on his hands above her. Then he blinked them away with his trademark devil-may-care grin. “What is there to want? My brothers and my sister are healthy, happy, and safe. My company’s doing well. I met Lorelei’s boyfriend and he survived the encounter.”

  He pressed against her again. “I have the sexiest, most beautiful woman in Crimson Bay beneath me. I’m the luckiest bastard in town and I know it. I don’t have the right to want anything else.”

  Of course he’d say that. Charlie wasn’t selfish—taking care of his siblings for the last eight years proved that. He probably hadn’t done anything just because, just for himself, in ages. He was a caregiver, a natural leader,
a protector. But who protected him? Who took care of him?

  That was the true gift she wanted to give him. At least one night in which he could let go and do nothing except accept what she offered.

  “Okay, maybe not a want. What about a wish?” She reached up to cup his cheek. “It’s your birthday weekend. If anything could happen today, something I could do for you, what would you wish for?”

  His eyes slid closed. When he opened them again, need blazed so stark and obvious even in the candlelight. Need so deep and profound she doubted she could conquer it. “Charlie.”

  Once again he hid behind a smile, this one mocking. “Don’t ask the question if you don’t want the answer, Sugar,” he chided. “Once that door opens, there’s no going back.”

  “I know,” she whispered softly, her thumb stroking along his beard-roughened cheek. “I’m not turning back. I want to walk through that door. Please tell me—what do you want?”

  His gaze sharpened, focused like a laser. She felt his presence pulling at her, drawing her entire being to him. She went willingly, wanting to surrender to him, wanting to give him what he wanted.

  “I want you,” he ground out, his voice guttural and deep with unchecked desire. “All of you. No hiding, no holding back. Tonight I’m going to break down that damn door.”

  The demand in his voice coursed through her like premium tequila, heating her insides and urging her to agree to everything he wanted. “Okay.”

  He froze above her, his body tense, his eyes frosted with disbelief. Clearly he hadn’t expected her to agree. “Okay?”

  “Yes, I’ll give you what you want.” She framed his face with both hands. “On my terms.”

  “What terms are those?”

  “That I also get to give you what you need.”

  He snorted. “What do you think I need?”