Sugar Daddy (36 page)

“Okay then.” I accepted his help out of the car and waited while he took our bags from Junior, exchanging a few whispered words.

“This way, darlin’.”

Strolling hand-in-hand to a slip, he lifted me on board an aerodynamic speedboat. He hefted the overnight luggage in and loped to the helm, starting the motor without saying a word.

We broke out of Charleston Harbor, the lights of the city softening in our wake, the waves funneling from the back end of the boat. The vigorous vroom of the motor shimmied through me and laughs bubbled from me like the foamy tide writhing behind us.

I stood with my arms spread in the
I’m the King of the World
pose, though not as cheesy. I spun around, the dark sky padding my shouts. “Oh! This is so fucking awesome, Reardon!”

His laughter was whipped away by the wind that grabbed at my hair. “This isn’t it, yet.”

Nothing but the dots of the cityscape behind and the sparkling sprinkles of stars a high ceiling above, our breakneck speed slowed so waves lapped back at us. We approached a lustrous, white, elegant...motherfucking enormous yacht. Three tiers of decks punctured the sky with polished brilliance. Rows and rows of long windows blinked down at us.

Reardon cut the engine and the speedboat–looking like a toy right about now and probably suffering from the same walk-of-shame my Honda did in The Tides parking lot–rocked to a mooring attached to the Love Boat, so big it made the sea heel to it.

On deck, I was bowled over again by candles lit inside hurricane lanterns and flowers flapping lazily in the breeze, by the endless promenade to the left and right of me.

“
Ransome III
.” I smiled shyly at Reardon.

“Yes.” His chest expanding, he was all proud of himself.

“He’s a beauty. I can call it a him, right?”

Popping the champagne cork, he tipped the fizz into two glasses. “’Course. But, since boats are usually female, I might have to buy another so I can name her after you.”

Jesus, he was serious.

Our crystal glasses clinked. “To you.”

My lips curved around the paper-thin rim of the glass, and I took a swallow. Raising my glass again, I quietly toasted, “To Will, to Ransome.”

Gaze drifting across the wide-open waters, Reardon solemnly nodded before he drank to his son, to his brother.

“You regret naming them all Ransome now?” I braided our fingers together.

He took a careful sip. “Not sure how I feel about it, Shay. Maybe it was the right thing at the time, not being openly reminded of Will.” His eyes creased and saddened, he pursed his lips. “Pretty cowardly, I guess.”

Running my fingers up his arm to his neck, I massaged him until he blinked over the somberness shading his irises. “Not cowardly at all, baby. It still fits them both.”

His smile was slow in coming, but splendid when it dawned over his mouth. Raising his hands, he grasped my face for a slow meeting of our lips.

His forehead pressed to mine, he held my hands so sweetly between us. “Thank you.”

Kissing his temples and his dimples and his chin, I repeated, “Thank you, baby.” I mischievously peered around. “Now, can I go explore this big ol’ beautiful boat?”

“Have at it.” He let me loose with a grin.

I kicked off my heels and jumped into a quick hug before taking off at a run down one side and up the other, dancing, giggling, singing complete and utter nonsense in between shouts of “Nuh
uh
and “No freakin’ way!”

I popped out from behind a partition to see him ambling toward me, barefoot with his collar opened. He was sexy as hell, but I had other things to look at.

Pointing, I squealed, “That’s a freakin’ Jacuzzi.”

“We’ll try it out later.” His voice was laced with salacious intent.

Before I could get away again, he drew me into him. “Welcome aboard my yacht, Shay.” His kiss was searing, and the ship might not have rocked, but I undulated against him.

“Big Bitchin’ Boat might be a better way to describe it,” I murmured against his lips. I would need a docent and a blueprint to get the lay of this land.

He scratched his jaw, half amused, half abashed. “Well, it is a Super Yacht.”

I rose to my tiptoes and nipped his chin. “No shit it is. Who’s driving this behemoth?”

“You’re looking at him, crew’s off tonight.”

Oh yes, Captain, my Captain.
I had a sudden urge to salute Reardon, on my knees.

“So.” Fingering the rim of my champagne glass, I peered at him through my eyelashes. “We’re out here in the middle of the Atlantic, all alone?”

“Completely.” He shed his jacket, ribboned his tie from around his neck until it floated away like a banner behind him. “Alone.”

A tug on my hand and we were in step to a set of doors tinted a smoky gray. Inside, low lighting prismed off gleaming dark woodwork, saturating the rich cream upholstery and buttery suede cushions.

“The lounge.” He christened the room by leaning against the back of a sofa, pulling me between his thighs and pressing his lips to my throat.

“Aaah
,
I like the lounge.”

“Good.” He winked. “We’ll get to this later, too.”

Christ.

“The most important room is down here, below deck.”

I hoped that was a euphemism for nautical nookie, because my hoo-haa was sendin’ out multiple MAYDAY signals.

We descended a set of gently curving shallow steps, the dark wood creating an expensive coziness that seeped all the way into the bedroom. Banks of windows were slid back, letting in a salty sea breeze, and at the center of it all was a beautifully made bed on a chocolate colored dais.

“The master suite.”

This time I didn’t curtail my tongue. “Oh yes, master.”

I exhaled when his fingers swept my hair aside from behind. His fingers hooking under the straps of my dress slid the bodice down to ruffle at my hips. A hand skimmed over my back; the other barely touched my breasts, briefly catching my nipples.

Whispering, “Lovely dress,” Reardon swished it down my legs. “But I prefer your skin.” So arousing were his light touches, his molten eyes, his hands and mouth wandering up my body.

I reached for his belt.

He stepped back. “Uh uh.”

Huh?

“Watch.”

I kept my eyelids peeled as his clothes hit the floor. This was not a sight to be missed, screw the ocean and all her natural beauty.

Once he was naked–rigid muscles and wide shoulders and burning eyes–I sauntered to him. It was his turn to watch. I held my hand over his heart, licked his other nipple. He jerked, whispering his hands to my waist. I wrapped my fingers around his shaft for several full strokes and he clenched his hands and cursed.

He stepped away again with a hoarse laugh. “I’ll come if you keep that up.”

I licked my lips. “In my mouth?”

“Shay,” he implored. “Don’t move.”

He strode to the bedside, a length of black satin gathered between both his hands. Winding it around my hips, he threaded it against my pussy until silken cloth parted my wet lips. The hedonistic sensation made me hiss.

“I want to blindfold you.” His tongue twirled around my earlobe.

“Yes,” I whimpered.

His smile was sinister, sensual. Another sash appeared, and he pulled it back and forth over the tips of my breasts.

Kissing my shoulder, pulling my nipple through the onyx cloth, he hypnotized. “The remaining senses are more alive when one is deprived.” He looped the silk over my eyes and laid me down on the bed. “I’m not going to tie you up, Shay,” he crooned at me from the swell of my stomach, spreading an exquisite tingling sensation to my breasts and along my thighs.

Drats.

His fingertips glided erotically over my belly, curving around my tits, centering a heat deep between my legs. “Although I’m sure I could find some coils of line around here somewhere.”

Game back on!

His wicked chuckle was a warm wash inside my hip, where his tongue dandled. My thighs were spread between his palms. “You’re so easy, darlin’.”

What? I took mock offense to that.

“This is nice.” He found my own surprise with his sure fingers at the narrow strip of curls I’d grown on my mound.

“Uuuuh,” I moaned, knowing his eyes were taking all of me in.

Raining through my downy red curls, his knuckle circled my clit. “Very nice.” His lips puckered over the hot piece of flesh. Our sensual sounds mashed together when he made love to my slick sex with his mouth and tongue and fingers
.

Oh his fingers, opening me, plundering in and out, his thumb rotating lower until it reached the sweet rose of my ass where he tapped a rhythmic beat.

My hips matched his leisurely pace, begging for more. Arching my back, an endless moaning, “Please, baby,
please
,” broke the seal of my lips.

Raised over me, he pierced me with his cock in one swift lunge.

We moved lithely, striving, reaching, touching.

Never too hard, never too fast, he pulled away the blindfold and kept thrusting, watching,
watching.

Grabbing his shoulders, I bowed off the bed, crying out, pulsing around his length. With a last lick to my nipples, his lips opened for a great shout, his arms bundling me to his chest where warm musky sweat melted to my tongue.

Only after we were released from our orgasmic meeting did the silence break with hums and smattering kisses, murmured
yeses
.

While I had him in this loose-limbed post coital state, I took advantage. Rolling him to his side, I followed suit with his biceps the cushion to my head. I brushed my thumb across the silly smile on his face.

Before I could chicken out, I blurted, “So, I’mgonnatellPalmerI’mleavin’him.”

Reardon coughed. “Come again?”

Wait, was that an invitation for more fucking? Because I could put this off until later, or tomorrow, or like never.

Constance finally made her appearance, but she didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to, since her disapproving glare said it all.

I met his gaze. “I’m telling Palmer I’m leavin’ him.”

A new flush stole over Reardon’s cheeks and his lips moved, but nothing came out. He fell to his back for a moment, and returned to his elbow. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

He looked relieved, ecstatic, and anxious all over.

“Okay?” I pressed. “Not like I need your say-so, because the whole world don’t revolve around you…” I petered out.

He took my hand. “Yes. Okay.” A small smile started on his lips. It grew gloriously bigger.

Shit, since he was takin’ this so well, I might as well go whole hog.

“In that case, I got somethin’ else to tell you.” I turned my hand over and linked our fingers so he couldn’t run away.

He stopped me–there was his worry again. “Shay.”

“Oh yeah, I’m gonna say it.” I kept a straight face in the presence of his sheer terror. “Brace yourself, because you can’t stop me, unless you wanna try gagging me next?”

He declined...unfortunately.

“I…” I started, and let it hang.

He held his breath, really sweating it. Oh this was too much fun. I wanted to keep him stretched out on the rack a while longer, but I relented.

With a very obvious eye roll, I said, “I’m gonna say
it
to you as soon as I straighten things out with Palmer. So do what you gotta do to prepare yourself and get over your I-don’t-deserve-love mangst crap.”

He took a deep breath before puzzling, “Mangst?”

Propping on his chest, I kissed the tip of his nose. “Yeah, man-angst, baby, you got lots of it.”

His stomach rippled with his laughter. “Okay.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” He repeated my little peck.