Sugar Daddy (45 page)

Running my fingertips over his mouth, urging his lips to open, I desperately begged, “Please tell me I didn’t ruin everything.”

He captured my hand. “I thought I made it clear.”

“Call me stupid then.”

“There’s always an Act of God clause.”

“Which means?”

When he twirled his thumb over the bare ring finger of my left hand, I closed my eyes, my heart threatening to scamper right out of my chest. “It’s called forgiveness. I love you, Shay. But if you ever so much as–”

As soon as the words left his mouth, I dived into him. “I won’t! I swear. I love you so damn much, Reardon.”

Our delicate kisses became rough.

He distanced his body as if he could break me.

I rolled onto my back, grabbing his taut ass. “I’m not fine china.”

“But you are very precious to me.”

Pitter-patter. Flitter-flutter.

“So no more sex in uncomfortable places, not when you’re carrying our child.”

He went so far as to carry me to the bedroom, setting me down on my side of the bed. I had a side of the bed now, even though we slept in the middle, coiled around each other, when we slept at all.

Bountiful sunlight glinted off a sleek box on my nightstand. “What’s this?” I lifted the lid.

“You needed someplace for your jewelry.” He stood behind me, peering over my shoulder.

Glancing off the pearls, I rolled my fingers around the coral choker nestled in satin cushions. “Thank you, baby.” Grazing his mouth, I spotted another new addition on the bed. On my side. “And that?” I pointed.

He swiped the embroidered cushion, hiding it behind his back. “It’s silly. I bought it on the way to the airport the other day.”

We wrestled over it until I pinched his ass. Then I made a grab for it while he massaged his rear.

Sweet Tea ain’t as sweet as my girl
, the heart-shaped pillow said in shades of cross-stitched pink.

“You know, because of the bumper sticker you gave me.” He blushed.
He blushed.

Hugging it to me, I stood on my tiptoes and tugged his bottom lip between mine. “I love it.”

He puffed up, leading me across the bedroom. “Made some room for you in the dresser and closet too.” Pulling out drawers, he showed me neatly organized rows of the bits and pieces I’d left here.

My smile widened.

He shouldered open the closet door. Making room meant adding a whole new wall populated by clothes I’d worn with him. Some were mine, some his–the white dress shirt, the blue bathrobe–dresses he’d purchased for me I couldn’t take home. A lot of space was given to new lingerie I’d never laid eyes on, and he’d definitely never laid me in, yet. I grinned, fondling the lace and silk, the frills and sheer nighties. Even more space was sanctioned for my shoes. Racks waiting to be filled by my TJ Maxx and Rack Room deals.

His arms surrounded my waist. “This all right?”

“Better than that.”

He towed me to the bed and bade me sit down. “Stay, Shay.”

I had half a mind to woof. Instead I exhaled a whoosh of breath, watching the sinews of his back join the motion of his rear as he left.

“I’ll be right back, gotta get something.”

Slinking in a couple minutes later, Reardon placed a legal-sized envelope beside me. Our palms together, he lifted me to my feet. His eyes were earnest as he lifted our hands to his chest where a stampede of heartbeats marched to the same boom-boom boom-boom beat as mine.

I trembled when he opened my palms to accept the envelope, thick, heavy and expensive. “What’s this?”

“I wanted to give you it when I...when we…”

Reardon rarely stumbled over words. Whatever the envelope contained was as important as it looked.
When we
...I gasped.

Oh my God, he was talkin’ about getting married.

A teardrop splattered the sealed paper. I watched his thumb gather it, his fingers rising to all the other wetness on my cheeks.

“You’re so sure you can’t have everything you want, Shay?”

I fumbled with the thick paper.

Dropping to his knees, his hands covered my tummy. “You want our baby?”

“Yes. More than anything.”

“You want me?”

“Yes, but–”

“Open it.”

I lifted the tab, and he lifted the corner of his mouth. “Let me add something more to the list of unattainable things you damn well deserve.”

I stared at the top page in disbelief until all the words merged together and my tears plopped onto it and all I saw was a watery mess because...because the damned fool man had given me the deed to the Jussely property in the Old Village.

“This is Mimi’s house!”

“It is.”

“When we drove past it, you acted like you didn’t know.”

He grinned. “That’s right.”

“You...it was sold, and you...you were the buyer?”

“Mmm hmm.”

Crashing into him, the paperwork was smashed between us. “You bought it for me?”

“For you, for us, I hope.”

I kissed him with a wild fever, caught between lust and laughter and those damnable happy tears, almost all my fears washing away.

“Momma’s gonna shit her britches,” I whispered against his cheek.

“Well, I haven’t met your momma yet, so I don’t know. Maybe we can rectify that soon.”

“Reardon.” I slid the deed to the bed, hopelessly overcome.

“Well?”

“Could y’all give me a minute here? Because I just found out we’re having a baby, and now you give me the family land back,” I teased.

His laughter scorched my neck. “Funny.” His gaze hooked mine. “The baby’s really ours?”

“Yes. But–”

The last of our clothes shed by his hands, he hushed me. “I’ll be with you through everything, Shay.”

“But–”

He was terribly tender, shutting me up. “No buts. Except this one.”

I came alive when his fingers curved into my bottom, spreading me, drawing down my crevice, deeply entering my wet lips with his fingers braided together.

I sighed, “But…”

Lifting me to our bed–in the middle, where we always ended up–he lay on top of me, testing me with the head of his shaft.

Grunting when I took him in hand, he demanded, “No more excuses.”

His cock smearing over my clit, he rose on arms outlined by muscle, rocky and hard and hot.

The fingers diving into my hair weren’t tender. His words were gruff too. But his eyes were steadfast through the thick pulsing drive inside me. “I got news for you. Ahhh.”

“Yeah, yeah!”

“Not gettin’ rid of me.”

In a second, I was on top of him, bearing down.

When he said, “Don’t go too hard, darlin’,” I lifted his fingers to my breasts, sinking over him while he stretched my nipples to puffy pink peaks.

“Oh, Reardon.”

Bobbing up and down his length, I arched into his hands, scraping my clit against his dark coarse hair.

Bold hands grabbed my tits, fingertips tripping to my pussy, toying with my opening, coaxing a finger inside along with his cock until I was so full I bounced in time with his thrusts and grunts and his fist pulling on my hair.

My head thrown back, I screamed, “Oh, Jesus Christ.
Ahh
,
yeah!”

Throbbing inside me, he exploded, so much come pulsing out it made a sticky mess all down my thighs.

I draped across him, worry eating away those done-so-good endorphins. “I’m gonna lose it. I’ll lose our baby.”

He withdrew from me, groaning all the way. Reardon Dade Boone made a spoon of us. “We could. We might.” Down my hips and over my belly, his fingers comforted. “We’ll hope, instead.”

Those words again
.
“So this is it?”

“Yes.”

“Us.”

Our fingers laced together over the treasure we’d made.

“I’ve never…”

He nudged my lips with his. “Me either. Never felt like this before.”

“We’ll make it?”

His words cured my battered heart. “I’ll be by your side, Shay. Whatever happens.”

Chapter 18

Force Majeure

Reardon wasn’t kidding when he said he’d be by my side. Hell, he was inside
me every chance he got, forget about beside me. Our never-ending lovemaking was a bonus because my preggo libido skyrocketed. Every time he shot me his
Wanna fuck?
look paired with a devastating smile, my la-la gave a frisky squeal, and I wanted to kneel in front of him in a
Yes, sir
posture with my lips wet and ready to take him in.

’Course we didn’t just get it on. There was a lot of shit to sort out. Homes, Radaman-Slaughter minus the Slaughterhouse part, and always our baby. I should’ve been overwhelmed. Instead, I was overawed by the life we were creating.

Giving Momma the lowdown was first on my to-do list. We met at the Maxx, then made our way over to Marshall’s before stopping at Starbucks.

Taking a quick gulp of scalding decaf-cappuccino, I blurted, “I’m pregnant.”

She burnt her tongue on her coffee, fanned her mouth and shot me a
What, now?
look.

“Yeah, Momma. I’m pregnant.” I said it quietly the second time, my hands pulled to my belly, my lips curved in delight.

“It’s this Boone fella’s?”

I beamed with pride. “Yes.”

She scooped my hands together. “But last time, and with my medical history...Shay?”

“I know. I’m terrified too. But we want this so much. Even if something happens, we’ve talked about it.”

She eased back to give her blessing. “One day at a time then. You can do this, my girl.”

“Thanks, Momma.”

Her blessing was replaced with a blistering, “Humph. When am I gonna meet your SOB studhorse anyhow?”

“Momma!”

“Don’t even bother gettin’ outraged. You always look fresh from the front seat of a Ford flatbed nowadays. Now you’re with child, and I still haven’t set my eyes on the man.”

“How about you let me settle into Mimi’s house first?”

“Mimi’s what?” Another big slurp made her wince as it hit her scorched tongue.

“The house, on McCants, y’all remember it?”

“Shoot, don’t get smart with me, girl, ’course I remember it, but I got no idea what you’re on about. Y’all can’t afford it.”

“Reardon bought it.”

That shut her up good.

“I think he wanted to buy a new yacht too, name it after me, so this is…” I faded off because she had a hankie out of her sleeve, dabbing at her eyes.

“He got you knocked up and gave you the old house too?”

Momma always did have the best sentiments.

“He’s the mystery Catholic carpetbagger?”

“He’s a Rebel son, Momma, and he ain’t a Catholic, not that it should matter.”

“And he gave it you?”

That was one way of putting it.

* * * *

The next months went by so fast. I guessed that was what happened when a person was happy.

By mid-October I’d moved out to my Mimi’s house. It’d taken a while to pack, mostly ’cause I sat surrounded by boxes of Delilah’s baby bits and pieces, unsure I had any right to be happy at all. Caressing each tiny bootie as if her pink dumpling foot was inside, smelling every article of the delicate layette, I saved the onesies and rompers and blankies I simply couldn’t bear to give away.