by Liz Crowe
She turned her head to the right and caught their reflection in the glass door of the kitchen. His tall body, still mostly dressed, attached to hers, one hand on the wall, her leg wrapped around his waist as her body matched him thrust for thrust. She closed her eyes but the image burned there like a brand.
“Shit, woman, you are gonna make me come like a teenager,” he muttered above her head, his neck pressed into her face. She tried to get the picture of him on his bus ads out of her head – tan, handsome, grinning at the world – holy shit but he could make her feel like this? He’d done what no man had been able to do for her—to force her to relax and accept that her own pleasure was as integral to sex as theirs.
Shoving away the urge to call for God again, she reached around to grasp his ass. Her standing leg spasmed as her body clutched at him in a continuous wave of pleasure. The pressure his pubic bone put against her as he thrust, making that deep sound in his throat, the feel of her ass against the wall, the sheer thrill of doing it right there in the darkened hallway of her office raced through her.
She let it take her, realizing her mistake too late – the mistake of letting Jack Gordon into her body and into her life.
Sweat beaded up on his face. It was slick under her fingers as she reached up to pull his mouth to hers, wanting him to truly understand what he did to her. She grabbed his hair in her attempt to get him ever closer as her entire body flushed with blood at the onrush of serious orgasmic bliss.
She had a sudden urge to make him lose control – needed to wipe that fucking look off his face just once as he gave a final thrust and groaned. She was thrilled when that cocky grin was replaced with a look she recognized as one she’d been wearing earlier. His lips covered hers at the last moment, blinding her with the full sensation of his whole self, inside, covering her, marking her somehow, although that sort of thought made her inner independent woman shudder. She put her hands on his shoulders, which were still encased in that dress shirt, observed that his tie was still on and sighed.
“Okay, wow, um, I don’t usually act like this,” she said quietly as she admired the musculature of his shoulders under her hands.
“Yeah, well, you just needed somebody to show you how fun this can be.” His voice stayed low. He leaned down to kiss her neck as he withdrew from her body. “I’m glad I could make you come, Sara. So glad.”
“So now is the embarrassing part, right?” Sara had no confidence in her knees whatsoever as she gripped the wall and willed her body calm.
“What? Hell, no, I’m not embarrassed. I feel great.” He pulled off the condom, tucked himself back inside his pants, zipped them up then ducked into the kitchenette. He came back carrying some paper towels.
She took the stack from him and turned away. Although used to handling the clean-up part post-sex in private, she figured what the hell, New Sara could wipe up in front of the guy who made her wet. Jack smoothed his shirt and rolled down his sleeves. He glanced around and grabbed her shorts from where she had flung them about two feet down the hall and handed them to her, eyes twinkling, which caused a flare of anger to flicker in her brain.
“Let’s go get something to eat – I’m starved.” He grinned as she shook her head, clearing the cobwebs placed there by the very fact of what she had done, in the hall with the guy who never even came out of his tie or his thousand-dollar shoes. She felt great, truthfully, but somehow even that seemed wrong.
The sound of a key in the door startled them both.
“Shit, shit, shit.” Sara zipped up her shorts and glanced around in a panic for her sandals.
“Um, babe, tuck in your shirt in the back,” Jack whispered. “You look like you just got fucked against the office wall.”
She was about to tell him to stop calling her “babe” when he grinned at her, blue eyes snapping with something Sara couldn’t identify. When he turned away and ran his hand through his dark hair, it stood up in way that made her want to thread her fingers through it.
Get a grip, Sara. Do not let him do this to you.
“Yeah, thanks, whatever,” she mumbled as she made her way back to her office.
Jack ambled into the kitchenette, opened the fridge and grabbed a Diet Coke
“Who’s here?” The sing-song voice of Meg, the office sad-sack agent, traveled back to them.
“Just me, Meg.” Sara shocked herself with her steadiness.
“Well, young lady, did you buy a new car or something?”
Meg didn’t do much business anymore. She hung out around the office all the time, never going out to work. Most offices had them – the resident sob-story type the managers couldn’t cut loose out of the goodness of their hearts. She was also a great listener, which endeared her to many agents and kept her from being completely annoying.
“No, lovely lady,” Jack called out striding out to the hall. “That’s my ride, as you well know!”
“Jaaack, you devil!” Meg’s voice scraped fingernails down Sara’s internal chalkboard. She suddenly felt really, really cheap not to mention slutty.
Jack flirted with everybody. He hadn’t singled her out on the phone over the last few weeks. Flirting for him was like breathing – he couldn’t not do it.
Great. And you let him fuck you, practically in public, without a second thought. What is wrong with you?
Nothing, the New Sara caressed her ear. Nothing another session with him won’t cure. Enjoy. Don’t think. Don’t plan. Just lie back and enjoy the ride.
She was already wondering how she might finagle another one of those knee-melting orgasms.
Oh stop it, Sara. Get a hold of yourself.
When Jack met Meg halfway up the hall, Sara realized he’d headed her off on purpose, keeping her from approaching where the hall smelled like sex.
“What brings you to our fancy downtown office, young man?”
“Had to bring something over to Sara. We have a tough deal that’s finally coming together. I wanted to deliver it in person and I knew she’d be here – she’s always here, isn’t she?” Jack threw an arm around Meg’s shoulders.
“Yes, our Sara, she’s a hard worker,” Meg agreed. “She’ll be our top producer in no time!”
Jack looked back, caught Sara’s eye, and winked. “Yep, she’ll be on top very soon for sure, especially if I have a say in it!”
She glared at him, her whole body reacting to his words like a silly love-struck teenager.
“We’re headed out.” Sara caught up with them and breezed past. “Want us to lock up or are you staying a while, Meg?” She didn’t care, really; she simply needed to get out of the office. Her brain spun out of control. It was not a feeling she liked or wanted to perpetuate. “Meet you at Tres Amigos, Jack,” she tossed over her shoulder, unwilling to look back, not trusting herself to meet his eyes.
On his way to meet Sara at the Mexican place, Jack rolled down all his windows and let the cooling Michigan summer night breeze ruffle his hair. He kept a hand on the wheel but brought the other to his face, wanting to keep Sara’s scent near. He shook his head to clear it. There had been no need to drop any papers off – that was what scanners and email were for. He had wanted her to think it a random drop-in visit, not the premeditated encounter it was. But things had spiraled out of control fast, too fast.
It had been a buzz getting to know her through this deal. Her professionalism, the calm efficiency she used to handle her buyer, had been amazing, and he knew damn good and well that was part of her appeal. It drove him to her office tonight, determined to scoop her up and take her out, somewhere, anywhere, dinner, dancing, whatever she wanted. The sight of her in un-self-consciously sexy denim and cotton, hair unruly, sans any makeup, eyes bright, and obviously eager to see him had smacked him in square in the libido. He licked his lips in the car’s dark interior.
The spark that passed between them when she took the innocuous excuse of a document had caught Jack off guard. He considered himself the type of guy who thrived on raw sexual energy.
He’d spent years enjoying the company of as many different women as possible – as teacher and student. But this? This was something completely new to him. The ever-present hum of erotic energy running through him lately revved, and his brain filled with images of them together, of her on her knees with her eyes cast down. His hands shook as he readjusted them on the wheel.
What was it about this chick, anyway? And that thing she’d said? That she’d never come with a man…damn Sam but that had been a turn on without a doubt.
She was hot, no doubt – tight ass, firm body, dark blonde silky hair that he could still feel between his fingers. Plus those absolutely incredible deep green eyes. Unlike many men, he had no preference: blondes, redheads, brunettes, it made no difference. He preferred women who cared about their bodies enough to exercise every now and then, which she clearly did. But he didn’t like them too skinny, either.
It had been nearly a year since he first saw her – really saw her – when she walked out of that penthouse condo, wearing that fine, just-fucked look on her lovely face. A solid year and his obsession with her had only increased. Usually, when a woman proved to be inaccessible he moved on to the next one. Not this time.
But the evening hadn’t gone at all like he had planned. Figuring she’d be dressed for work and would want to go out he had come straight from his own office and had the night planned from start to finish, not really anticipating his need to take her, right then and there. Something about her had forced him closer, if only for a taste. Of course, he’d gotten a lot more than that. Her meeting his need halfway only served to ramp up his urge to take her up against the wall like some kind of desperate rookie.
Her early hesitation and shyness reinforced what his research had predicted. The lovely woman had never experienced real satisfaction with a man. It had only made him want her even more. However, his usual post-sex smug, self-satisfied feeling eluded him and it pissed him off. That coupled with the twitchy need to have her again, to make her beg for him, made him uneasy and horny in equal measure.
Shit. What the hell, Gordon?
Jack ran a hand through his hair. He sensed she still had pent up energy. He wanted to release it. Wanted more than anything to prove he was the man to do it. But he’d be damned if, for the first time in years, he’d allowed himself to climax without consciously keeping his distance.
When she had reached up to capture his lips at the last moment, he hadn’t even tried to resist. He’d wanted to be completely aware of her as he shared the ultimate connection. It was as if she knew he normally resisted contact at that moment. He had clutched her ass with one hand and relished the firm feel of her skin and muscle underneath as her amazing body continued to spasm and contract along the length and width of him. It hit him hard, and not only in his dick.
When she’d gotten embarrassed again after they were done, he’d had to move away from her or risk acting like a sap. She had looked devastating – her hair disheveled in the back, her color high and her lips swollen from his efforts. It was one of his favorite looks on a woman – the “Well Fucked by Jack Gordon” face. He would gladly have picked her up and plunked her down on the floor and done it again and again to get that connected feeling back. It warred inside him, the simultaneous need to possess and please, to control and satisfy.
He shook his head once again as he pulled into the parking lot outside the restaurant.
Get hold of yourself, man. She’s just another pussy – a pretty sweet one at that. You’ve managed to break that office in now, enjoy the afterglow.
He smiled as she pulled in behind him and eased out of her car, long, sexy legs leading the way.
Damn, the woman was hot.
He held out an arm, she took it with a skeptical look that frustrated and turned him on in equal measure. Oh boy, he thought as they walked into the restaurant together. No good, Jack. No good at all. But the sensation of her arm in his felt better than anything he’d experienced in a long while.
“Here.” Jack held the dark ring of a jalapeño to Sara’s lips.
“I can feed myself, thanks.” She grabbed one from her plate to pop into her mouth. He shrugged and ate the hot pepper he’d been holding, without taking his eyes from hers.
She was no lightweight, but after two beers she felt tipsy. It was as if she were drunk on Jack – his proximity, his voice, and the lips that he kept brushing against her neck. The fact that he’d ordered for them without even asking her what she wanted didn’t have its usual effect on her either. She loved it.
He’d ordered exactly what she was craving – a dark Mexican beer and the hottest possible burrito smothered in rich tomato sauce. He regaled her with stories from his recent string of real estate failures while they ate. At one point she had laughed so hard she’d let out a snort, which made him laugh even harder.
At that moment he put an arm around her and pulled her close, so close she could smell him and she had to close her eyes to battle her compulsion to climb onto his lap. He felt familiar but dangerous and elusive at the same time. She knew he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, be into her any more than any other woman. He had to be the absolute worst man she could get attached to – a self-centered man-whore, intent on his own satisfaction every minute of the day.
He didn’t let go of her and she tilted her face up to his to receive his lips. His kiss made the room spin. She couldn’t resist the temptation to grab his thigh. He grinned against her lips as she ran her hand up near his zipper.
“I think we’re going to have some fun with this new you,” he whispered.
She stared at him, her mission towards his crotch forgotten. How in the hell could he know that she’s sensed herself splitting in two – becoming an Old and a New Sara? Old Sara would have never fucked him like that, but this new creature loved how he made her feel and wanted it again. Her life would forever be divided in her mind between “before Jack” and “after Jack.” The concept that he had so much control over her already pissed her off.
But she wanted him to touch her again. To bring back that utterly amazing feeling he’d bestowed on her with his fingers first, and then his cock. She guessed she could get addicted to it. But for her brain, which kept reminding her that Jack Gordon was not a man who was known to stick around, to be a nice guy.
“Yeah, well, New Sara needs some sleep,” she insisted and glanced at her watch. “Busy day tomorrow and all.”
He threw enough cash down for the bill and tip and held out his hand. She took it, loving the familiar heat of his palm.
It took everything she had not to invite him back to her place. He didn’t seem inclined to carry on their encounter anyway, once their meal was complete. Instead, she adopted his breezy manner, gave him a peck on the cheek and climbed into her car. Jack shut her door then motioned for her to roll down the window. She knew she should escape, but didn’t want to leave. He leaned into her open window, grabbed her by the back of the neck and guided her lips to his for a better goodnight kiss. Beer and a slight echo of salsa ghosted across her taste buds. He broke away, touching her on the nose.
“See you soon, yes?”
“See you soon, Jack, yes.” She started up her car. The Beemer’s throaty roar gave her a thrill.
“Nice wheels.” He grinned. “This is Michigan, you know – buy American!”
He turned and disappeared into the night.
Jack had to use every bit of his resolve not to invite her back to his house. He would have given anything to lower her down onto his king-sized bed and make her sing with pleasure, to cry out for him again and again. He made a mental note to dig some of his toys out of the wooden chest buried in the back of his closet. Strips of worn leather, a blindfold, and a few other choice items danced around in his brain. He loved a woman who’d let him indulge in a little kink. He wasn’t as into it as seriously his friend Evan Adams, but he did enjoy a little light bondage and blindfolded play.
White knuckling the wheel with one hand, he cranked the stereo with the oth
er, hoping to drive some of the clamor out of his head. Dear God but he wanted more from her. More than she might be bargaining for.
Something told him to wait, to save it for another time. Let her sleep on the office quickie – see how much more she wanted. He had a feeling she’d be back. He sensed himself settling into a familiar place. A place where he knew his heart would be safe and his body satisfied. He had to maintain control of the situation, and he would. But something in him remained unable to shake the uncertainty. She would not be just another woman, and that kept him up all night pondering the possibilities of Sara.
Chapter Five
Sara didn’t hear from Jack for nearly ten days. Since the tough part of their deal had ended she assumed he’d moved on to other deals, other clients, and other agents. She tried not to let that disappoint her, but it did. She attempted not to ponder how she awoke nearly every single night with his name on her lips, the sheets in a sweaty tangle around her body. She was not about to reach out to him – no way. New Sara was not happy about it, but that was too bad. Control had to be maintained with a guy like him.
No matter how much her skin ached to have his hands on her.
When he finally called, she ignored him. He didn’t leave a message or call back. At night, alone in bed, she spent many hours reliving that hot night in the hallway and tried to use her own fingers to recreate what he did to bring herself to a shuddering, earth-shaking climax. It never worked.
Being pissed off at the man had become a full-time job, which made her even madder. Trying to focus, to channel some of that energy into work, helped. When she realized she could credit him for that, too, it made her want to throw something heavy through a window.
On Sunday she did the usual prep for her Open House. One of her white elephant listings was a funky, sixties-built raised ranch in a premium location overlooking the Huron River. It boasted an amazing one-hundred-eighty-degree view of the river and park below from the wall of windows across the back. A screened-in porch on the side of the house afforded an even more panoramic vista.
