My Accidental Sugar Daddy Page 5

  As if entranced, I part my lips.

  This strawberry is juicy, delicious, candy-sweet, and I savor it as I bite down and Tate slowly pulls the stem away. Then, as soon as I swallow, Tate closes the gap between us, and claims my mouth with his own.

  It’s an incredible kiss. It’s a magical kiss. It’s one of those kisses that makes your eyes flutter and your legs turn into jelly, so thank goodness I’m sitting down. I moan into his open mouth without meaning to, and he growls his approval against my lips, all the while holding my curvy form tighter, closer, to him.

  His skin against mine, combined with the heat of the flames, makes me feel as if I’m being bathed in fire. I want to feel more of him, and suddenly, I want him to burn with need, too.

  So I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling that masculine form down to mine as our bodies meld together. He pushes me back, angling between my thighs, and then suddenly there’s an insistent nudge against my belly. Oh shit, that’s his huge dick and I gasp, breathing hard while pulling away.

  “You’ll be okay,” Tate growls. “It’s big but I know you can handle it.”

  I look down at his crotch and realize his member is so large that it literally wraps around his waist.

  “I don’t know if I can, Daddy,” comes my whisper. “It’s huge!”

  He merely seizes my mouth again.

  “Yes, but I have a feeling you’re the stretchy kind, sweetheart. You were made for taking a man.”

  With that, I melt against Tate. He lowers me to the bearskin rug, and then his hands roam across my back, his fingers dancing tantalizingly over my nipples, just enough to be a tease. I grab a fistful of his dark hair and he growls something into my mouth, maybe “fuck” or maybe “uggh.” I can’t tell, but it doesn’t matter because it just makes me want to kiss him more.

  I’m lost in Tate’s kiss, his embrace, his touch. When he seizes my hand and guides it to the bulge between his legs, this time, I don’t draw away. Instead, I lightly trace its outline with my fingers, so gently that he lets out a low, guttural moan.

  “Fuck you’re going to be the death of me sweetheart,” he mutters.

  Encouraged, I squeeze gently, snapping out of my trance just enough to clock how big it is, how girthy. My heart rate increases even more, hammering in my ears. I can’t believe how badly I want him, this man who I’ve met for the first time--well, the second time--today.

  “I want you,” he rasps in my ear, lightly tracing my lobe with the tip of his tongue. I nod, and Tate takes that as his cue. The alpha male unhooks my bra, tosses it aside, and lightly drags the pads of his fingers across my already swollen nipples. I let out a sharp squeak, tossing my head back as tingles run straight from my tips to my cunt.

  “I knew you’d be responsive,” he growls. “I had a feeling.”

  Then, he pops one into his mouth and I tilt my head back and scream this time, a flood of wetness gushing between my legs.

  “Oh Tate,” I mewl. “God, yes.”

  Chuckling deep in his throat, he helps me out of my panties, and then his boxers are off, too, and his cock bursts out like a huge rod. I take hold of it again in my hand and gasp. OMG, I can’t even get my fingers all the way around, but he merely grins while reaching over to rub a finger tortuously slowly against my clit.

  “You like that baby?” he rasps, pinching my clit for a moment. Hot spasms run through my pussy and I let out another low, needy mewl. “Good, I knew you’d be just the right girl,” he growls. Then, he fingers my clit again, increasing the pace, before suddenly plunging into my wetness. I moan, more loudly than I anticipated, and shakily sit back to allow him better access. He pumps his fingers in and out of me, obscene sucking sounds ringing out in the room, but I’m not even embarrassed. My body needs his and I part my knees even further, giving him better access.

  “What a little slut,” he growls, blue eyes flashing. “I knew as soon as I saw you.”

  I should be offended by this statement, but the fact is that I’m acting very slutty right now. I lean back, pinching my own nipples with one hand, before reaching for his cock again. His girthiness makes my mouth water and my eyes fly up to Tate but he shakes his head.

  “Not yet, baby girl. First, I’m going to do this.”

  Then, he flips his hand around so that his fingers are brushing against that perfect spot inside of me.

  “Oh, my God,” I cry out. “It feels so good!” I’m not always a fan of fingering because it can feel so rough, so careless if a man doesn’t know what he’s doing. But this is almost as good as a cock would be. Tate is certainly an expert as his fingers squelch in and out of me, giving me a good pound.

  But I want even more.

  “Fuck me,” I whisper suddenly. When he smirks and continues to thrust his fingers in and out, in and out, I whine, “Please,” suddenly desperate for his thick member to be inside me. The alpha male ignores my request for a moment, his fingers moving even more quickly until a desperate moan escapes from my lips and hot fluid fills his palm. Oh my god, was that me? But Tate merely pulls his fingers out before sucking them while grinning lasciviously at me.

  “You taste sweet, baby girl. Now, I’m sure you’re ready.” With that, the large male positions himself at the apex of my thighs. “How bad do you want it?” he whispers, those blue eyes glowing as he looks at me. He rubs the head of his cock against my dripping entrance, and I gush hotly again, digging my nails into his skin.

  “Please,” is the only word I can manage through clenched teeth.

  With a knowing smile, Tate ever-so-slowly eases himself inside of me. He’s huge, and I toss my head back, my eyes fluttering closed as I’m stretched.

  “Unnnh,” I cry out. “Oh fuck.”

  “Just a little more,” he croons. “You can do it, sweetheart.”

  Finally, he’s buried to the hilt and I open my eyes. Holy shit, the sight is dirty. His balls are pressed against my pussy and Tate’s looming above me, that bronzed chest bare. Then, slowly at first, but with increasing fervor, he begins to fuck in and out.

  I would say “making love,” but the fact is this is about as far from making love as you can get. This is a heavy-duty, no holds barred drill, and I love it. I spread my legs as far as possible and beg for him to pound my pussy harder.

  “More!” I scream, squelching again. “Oh Daddy, please more!”

  There’s a harsh flush on his high cheekbones and he responds to my command. Soon, he’s pummeling my cunt with that huge, beautiful rod, and my channel’s squeezing him tight.

  “Fuck,” I grunt. I’m not usually prone to swearing during sex, but it feels so good, so right, that I can’t help but choose a profanity. I feel gloriously split in two by his member, like a slut enjoying a giant horse cock. My wetness is dripping onto the rug, and we’re definitely both slick with sweat now. Can you dry clean a bearskin rug? I think in a daze. But then Tate interrupts my stupor.

  “Look at me, sweetheart,” he commands, and I do. Our gazes are locked on each other, but instead of bringing me to a finish, he pulls out.

  “I want to try something else,” he says in a rasp.

  I stare at him, panting heavily.

  “Such as?”

  He grins.

  “Have you done this before, sweetheart?” he asks while reaching forward to rub my asshole with his fingers. The tight pink ring clenches tight as I stare at him in shock.

  “What?” I squeak. “Now? Well yes, but I mean …”

  Quick as lightning, he drops his head and kisses me there, before circling the taut pucker with his tongue.

  “I just want to know if girls living on the streets are good at taking it from behind,” he rasps. “I want to know if your butt stays tight when you’re living the hard life.”

  Oh my god, this is so offensive! I should smack him across the face because is he somehow implying that homeless girls are sluts just because we have nowhere to sleep? But instead of raging at him, I rock back, pulling my knees up beside my ears
so that my anus is on full display, and wink at him with my brown button.

  “Then try it, Daddy,” I purr. “This is all yours.”

  Tate’s on me immediately. He spits on his palm and lubes up his member again, although it’s already glistening from my pussy fluids. Then, he nudges my back hole with that enormous rod and pushes a bit. I cry out, my head tilting back.

  “You okay?” he rasps. “I’ll take it slow, I promise.”

  But I don’t want it slow. I want it rough and hard, and I merely pull my knees up even higher, exposing more of my rosebud.

  “Push in all the way, Daddy,” I pant. “I need it.”

  With that, Tate slides deep into my asshole and we both groan at the intense sensation. I feel like he’s splitting me apart, but in a good way, and unbidden, my pussy begins to gush again, fluids leaking down to trickle over where we’re joined.

  “That’s my girl,” he rasps. “You’re loving it, aren’t you?”

  Then he begins a steady rhythm in my bottom, in and out, and I moan deliriously. I’ve never been into back door much, but somehow, this man brings out the dirty girl inside and I need it. I rock with him as much as I can, taking him deep into my inner recesses.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” I pant. “Just like that.”

  Suddenly, lightening seizes me and I scream aloud. Hot tremors dart through my frame as both my pussy and ass convulse in rapid ecstasy.

  “Oh Tate!” I scream. “Unnnnh!”

  He follows me into the sparkling oblivion.

  “Fuck,” he grunts as his cock jerks inside my rectum, hot splashes of seed dousing my back channel. “Holy shit!”

  He pumps non-stop for what feels like hours, his seed so copious that it seeps out from where we’re joined. I cry out again and again, my butt squeezing him for more, milking him for every last drop possible. Finally, the alpha male collapses on me, breathing hard into my ear.

  “Did you like that?” he asks, hot breath blowing over my cheek. “Because fuck baby, I had no idea.”

  I merely giggle, clenching him tight with my bottom and making him groan.

  “I loved it,” I coo in a throaty voice. “In fact, I’d love to do it again. If you’re game, that is, big boy.”

  And judging from the flash in those blue eyes, Tate Connor is more than game. The wealthy man’s ready to go, and sure enough, within moments the bear skin rug’s getting another hot dose of our love.

  6

  Laurelin

  * * *

  Three months later.

  “Look at him go!” Rachel cries.

  I watch as Toodles zooms around our apartment, dashing up and over a chair, clawing his way up his cat tree before leaping off of it. I laugh delightedly, and Rachel, flipping the view of her phone back to a front-facing view, grins.

  “He’s doing so great,” Rachel prompts with a delighted smile. “Who knew I’d be such a great cat mama?”

  Tears sting my eyes unexpectedly.

  “You are a great cat mama,” I confirm gently. “Thank you.” I feel horrible leaving my pet with my roommate for three months, but I send Rach money to care for him, and although she grumbled at first, now things have done a one eighty. In fact, Rach says she’s grown to enjoy Toodles’s company, when he’s not trying to eat her plants at least.

  But I miss my cat. He’s one of the few constants in my life, and I wish Toodles could come live with Tate and me in this townhouse. Maybe I could just bring him over one day and say he’s a stray I picked up off the street? Or lie and say he followed me home from the park? I haven’t been able to figure out the right approach yet, but I plan to do something very soon. I want my cat and my man, and a girl shouldn’t have to choose.

  Nonetheless, it’s astonishing that I’ve been living with Tate for three months now. It’s been three months since that impossible day when Tate mistook me for a waif and plucked me off the streets. Three months since he took me into his home and lured me into a scandalous arrangement. Three months since we first had earth-shattering, teeth-rattling sex. We’ve enjoyed each other’s bodies almost every day since then and it’s magnificent. I assumed that Tate had a voracious sexual appetite, but I’m surprised by my own. Who knew I needed it so much? But I guess when you’re in the arms of a gorgeous, charismatic man, everything changes.

  I’m surprised, too, that I’m enjoying this unorthodox life far more than I anticipated. I’d only planned to stay for a few days, but then a few days turned into a week, and a week turned into months. I admit, I’ve enjoyed reading the books in his library, and watering the plants in the kitchen. I enjoy wandering through his living room, trailing my fingertips over his furniture, before settling down in the sitting room for a relaxing cup of tea.

  But it hasn’t all been play. I’ve continued handing out sandwiches in the park, and have even started volunteering at the nearest shelter most weekends (luckily, it’s the one where Marla has been staying). I know I could have done all these things from my own home, and using my true identity too, but something about doing it with Tate in my life has made all the difference. He praises me for my efforts, although of course, he thinks I’m doing it because I was once a vagrant myself.

  As a result, guilt continues to gnaw at my insides like a hungry monster. Tate and I have gotten to know each other well, and I’ve lied as little as possible to him, but the bottom line can’t be ignored: he still has no idea who I really am, and this charade makes a lump come to my throat. As someone with a troubled and mysterious past, I’m fascinating to my lover. But would Tate still be as interested in me if he knew my real identity? Unfortunately, I haven’t yet been brave enough to find out.

  Of course, I haven’t kept everyone in the dark. I told Rachel the truth about two weeks ago, and she was scandalized at first, not to mention concerned about my safety. After all, how many women really go home with total strangers? But I explained to her that Tate’s not really a stranger because he’s my brother’s best friend. After hearing that, Rach came around to the idea, mostly because of how truly happy I’ve been. I also believe she secretly thinks it’s sexy and scandalous, as if I’m living out the plot of a romance novel.

  “Earth to Laurie,” Rachel says, waving her hand in front of her camera.

  I shake my head, refocusing on her face on my phone. “Sorry, Rach. Just feeling extra weird today.”

  “About anything in particular?”

  I make a rueful face

  “Just, you know, the lying about my identity and doing something potentially morally heinous.”

  “Oh yeah.” Rachel nods. “That’ll do it. I don’t think you’re really morally wrong, though. It all started off with a small omission, sure, but I think that what you two have is pretty special now. Don’t you agree?”

  I gnaw on my bottom lip. “It feels like more than just a roll in the hay, that’s for sure. But Tate’s not the lovey-dovey type, and I don’t know if he has feelings for me. I mean, I can’t really expect that, can I? Most people don’t fall in love with ragtag homeless waifs.”

  “I don’t know,” Rachel says, unconvinced. “You talk about Tate really highly. And I don’t know if he’d let you stay with him for three whole months now if he weren’t into you on some level at least. And I don’t just mean sexually.”

  I think for a moment.

  “Maybe,” I sigh. “I don’t know. I’ll just keep taking it a day at a time.”

  “That’s probably the best plan,” Rachel agrees. “Well, let me know when you’re ready for Toodles. It’ll be hard for me to give him up, though. Oh wait, or are you going to come home?”

  I laugh. “Honestly, I don’t know. It’s just one day at a time around here but honestly, I appreciate you, Rach. I really do.”

  She smiles into the phone camera.

  “You’re welcome!” she grins. But then she cocks her head at me curiously. “You are going to tell Tate about your identity eventually though, right? He can’t be your sexy sugar daddy forever.”

&nbs
p; I sigh. “Yes, I will, but just not yet. I’ve been feeling really good about things, and I don’t want to screw things up. Did I tell you I’m sketching some designs for his company, by the way? I’m working on a new Minerva logo right now.”

  Rach looks surprised.

  “So things are more serious than you let on.”

  I giggle.

  “Maybe. I don’t know. We really do get each other, but I don’t know if that means it’s a romance.”

  My friend just grins.

  “A day at a time, remember?”

  I nod. “You’re right.”

  Suddenly, there’s a crash and Rach jumps. “Oops,” she says, glancing over her shoulder. “Gotta go. Toodles is in the monstera. Toodles!” And with that, the call’s over.

  I sigh and flop back on the four-poster bed. A million questions swirl in the maelstrom of my mind. What am I supposed to do? When is the right time to come clean? Will there ever be a right time to tell Tate?

  On the one hand, the small omission about my true identity shouldn’t be that big of a deal. It wouldn’t change things too much, would it? But my stomach churns, and I shake my head. For all I know it could change everything because I’d go from being homeless, needy Laurie to richer-than-thou society debutante Laurelin Saint. Oh god, what do I do?

  Feeling anxious, I get up and head downstairs to grab some lunch. Tate’s personal chef prepared an amazing meal of pork chops and Brussel sprouts last night, and I decide to have some leftovers. I bring out the food, plate it, and stick it in the microwave. As I do, my eye is caught by a half-finished bottle of wine on the table. I glance at my phone, and see that it’s only two. Well, I tell myself as I uncork the bottle and pour myself a glass, it’s five o’clock somewhere.

  I sit down at the table and am about to start eating when keys jangle in the door. Bemused, I look at my phone clock again to make sure I had the right time. Tate almost never comes home earlier than five or six, and I frown as I get up to greet him. Is he feeling sick?