by Crowe, Liz
“I’m not an easy guy to love, or even really like,” he said to his clasped hands. Sara’s scalp prickled. “I know that, and I won’t give you a shit load of sad sack stories about how my parents ignored or criticized me into the man I am now.” He snorted. “Hell, I’d barely tolerate me if I didn’t have to.” Sara felt his gaze on her but kept her eyes trained on the floor. “What I know right now is that there is something about you, Sara Thornton, that has me spinning in circles. It pisses me the fuck off, if you must know,” he leaned back again and pulled her next to him. She started to talk but he silenced her by pulling her face to his for a brief kiss. “Shut up, let me finish,” he muttered, taking his lips from hers.
Sara started to stand up but Jack pulled her back. “Sit down, please, I…” he stopped. “I can’t even do this right.”
Sara bit back the urge to speak.
“I have thousands of people who consider me a ‘friend’ — am invited to events, parties and shit every single weekend — but I only have two maybe three people on the planet I ever really talk to.” He swallowed and turned his face to hers as they sat side by side on the couch. “I need something more. And I don’t understand why you keep pulling away from me.” He stood up towering over her. “And this thing that I do. I’m not convinced it’s good or even right, but you bring out urges in me I haven’t felt for years.” He turned and headed into the kitchen presumably for more water.
When he didn’t return for a few minutes, Sara walked to the doorway and watched as he sat at her small breakfast bar running his hands through his hair. Her heart raced again as she walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He grabbed it, kissed her palm and stood up in one smooth motion tugging her to him. She sighed as he covered her mouth with his but broke the contact and pushed back on his chest to hold him at arm’s length.
“Jack,” she said, fighting New Sara’s urge to straddle him and make him carry her to bed. “I, um, I’m not a coddler, you know? I’ve been on my own long enough that I buy myself flowers, make my own pancake breakfasts, and am more than a little emotionally constipated. I don’t know how to give up control if you must know. And the fact that I even want to…” He moved her hands from their position on his shoulders up around his neck and she melted into him again. “You scare me,” she muttered into his chest. “I’m actually terrified of how I feel about you. I don’t want to get hurt.” Tears stung her eyes but she clenched them back. “I don’t know what I want. But I know you’ve done something to me. And it pisses me the fuck off too.” She sighed, loving he smell of him so close. “And as for the other, well, it scares me too. But it fascinates me at the same time. Kind of like you.”
“Well, hell darlin’ that makes two of us,” he whispered into her hair. “I guess we’ll just have to work through our fear together, eh? I’m willing to try, if you are.” He kissed her before she could answer. She yelped when he scooped her up. “Where the hell is the bedroom?” Her brain spun, as she relished his lips on hers and his words in her ears.
Could it be, really? Jack Gordon wants me? For what? A girlfriend? A sub? Holy shit Blake is going to kill me.
Jack put her down and sat on the bed, tugging her down onto his lap, so close she no choice but to straddle him. He smiled when she pushed him back before crawling up to his lips, grasping her ass against the stiffening under his zipper.
“Jesus, woman, I have no business getting hard, I am so goddamned drunk, but you,” he growled into her ear. “You, could make a dead man come, to quote Jagger and company,” he yanked her t-shirt up and pulled a nipple into his mouth.
“Jack,” Sara started, eyes closed as her pussy clenched in anticipation. “Are you gonna remember any of this tomorrow?” She sat up and glared into his darkening eyes. He propped himself on his elbows.
“Yes,” he said, simply and pulled her back down, rolled her over and held her wrists down on the bed. She squirmed in anticipation. He took a minute to kiss her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth, before moving his lips down her neck, between her breasts, and pulling her nipples erect with his lips and teeth. He shoved a thigh between her legs and something primal in her made her rub her now aching clit against him.
“Ah, Jack, Jesus,” she called out and yanked her arms out from his grasp and buried her hands in his course hair. He kept sucking each nipple, sending blasts of erotic sensation straight to her core. “I need you inside me,” she demanded into his hair. “Now. I’ve waited long enough.”
He grinned against her breast, pulled her shorts and panties aside in one quick movement and plunged two fingers inside her velvet depths. “No need to wait baby. Let me have it.” His words and touch set off a hair trigger orgasm and she yelled in pleasure as her pussy clutched at his fingers and gushed moisture onto his hand. Alarmed to find herself near tears with the intensity of it and her emotional state, Sara sighed. Jack removed his fingers from her body and put them in his mouth.
“Okay I think you’re really ready for me now,” he started to unzip his shorts but stopped. “Oh, shit, I, um, I didn’t bring anything.” She grinned at him.
“Never fear lover,” she sat up, unzipped his shorts and yanked them and his boxer briefs down over his hips, releasing his shaft. “I’m gonna return the favor,” he laid back as she drew his thickness into her mouth, pulling, sucking, relishing the taste and essence of him.
“Ah, sweet Jesus,” he fisted his hands in her hair as she cupped his balls in her hand, using her other hand to run up and down his shaft under her lips. She dipped her tongue into the slit, sucking down the pre-come that moistened him, licking around the edges of his head, bringing him nearly to the brink. His hips started bucking into her. But he stopped, and pulled her back up, forcing her to stop. “No, I want to come inside you, now,” he declared. “But I…”
“I’ll rustle up some protection, you get all the way undressed.” Sara pulled her clothes off under his admiring gaze and checked her bedside drawer. Nothing. She ran into the living room to look in her purse. Empty. At the last minute, she ran into the bathroom, scrabbled around in the drawers and came up with a condom packet. She stopped to run a brush through her hair and grinned at herself in the mirror.
Jack Gordon eh? Well, at least she’d always have great real estate advice when she needed it, not to mention some of the best fucking she’d ever…
The sound of a massive snore rolled through the room, stopping her in her tracks. She sighed and opened the door, leaning in the entry as the man who had sort of confessed that he might very possibly love her lay on his back, completely naked, his mouth open, sound asleep.
*
Sara jerked awake to the sound of what sounded like cars crashing and loud cursing from the vicinity of her kitchen. She sat up, rubbed her eyes and took in the rumpled side of the bed where Jack had passed out on top of the covers. Glancing down at her naked body, she smiled with the memory of last night’s actual discussion. He must be trying to find the coffee pot or something in there. A nearly fruitless endeavor she knew. She laid back on her pillow and let her mind drift back to the confessions they’d made to each other. The cursing got louder and moved towards the bedroom.
“Sara!” Jack barked. “I’m late! I’m supposed to be touring a Ford exec in forty-five minutes.” He stood there completely naked still, magnificent cock at half-mast. He ran a hand over his face once, found his underwear and pulled them on. “Do you have any decent coffee? Never mind, I’ll get some later,” he started to stalk out of the room. She sat up, alarmed.
He had forgotten. She knew it. She tried to quell crushing disappointment. He stopped in the doorway, put both hands on either side of the jamb, and took a deep breath. “I, um, need a ride home. Do you mind?” he asked without looking at her.
Sara rolled out of bed, pulled on jeans, a t-shirt, and her flip-flops, wincing as her sore foot made contact with the floor. She glared at Jack as he fiddled with email on his Blackberry, forcing back tears.
God d
amn fucking asshole, he’s done it to me again. Sara, you are a fool.
The face in the mirror mocked her as she brushed her teeth and pulled her hair back. Jack blocked her way out of the bedroom and for a brief moment, she thought he was going to reach out for her, but merely stepped aside and followed her out into the living room. She grabbed purse and keys and stomped out the front door, not watching to see if he followed. They screeched out of her parking lot, silence gathering force between them.
Jack gave her his address and said nothing else. Sara gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, willing him to speak. She’d be damned if she would first. She pulled up in front of his bungalow in the affluent neighborhood near the central campus, and kept her eyes straight ahead. Jack sat, unmoving, one hand on the door handle. He put the other on her shoulder.
“Sara,” he said, quietly. “I, you, I mean, we… shit,” he muttered. “I’m late, I really have got to go. But I remember what I said last night, okay?” He put a finger under her chin and turned her face to his before giving her a kiss of such tenderness and feeling that she nearly wept with relief. “We have to talk more, and we will,” he said as he brushed her nose and forehead with his lips. “I’ll call you this afternoon.” He ran a weary hand over his eyes and through his thick hair, making it stand up in spikes. “I’ve got a stupid golf outing tomorrow, but if this day doesn’t go too long let’s have dinner.” He jumped out of the car and ran towards his house, disappearing into the side door as her nerve endings humming with unmet need. The anticipation of conversations with her brother that had “Jack” and “boyfriend” in the same sentence made her a little dizzy. She sighed, put the car in gear and headed home.
CHAPTER TEN
“This is Sara Thornton, how can I help you,” she chirped into the phone the next morning as she took a floor call. It had been a late night, and not an entirely satisfying one. Jack had called at nine o’clock after keeping her posted via text during his tour. He sounded exhausted after an entire day of shuttling a top-level executive around with his high-maintenance spouse and two annoying children — all with a raging hangover. He’d been apologetic and contrite but begged off anything more than falling straight into bed.
“I owe you one baby,” he’d muttered into her ear. “And you know I will make good on it.” Sara had bit the inside of her cheek so hard to keep from filling the silence she tasted blood. “I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow night. Dress up.” he insisted before signing off.
She’d set her phone down on the coffee table, called for her favorite pizza and ordered a movie on demand. She had woken up in a sweating, hyperventilating heap on the floor beside the couch, the movie playing in an endless loop. She couldn’t recall the nightmare that had caused her such panic but took a hot shower to calm down and then fallen face first into bed, not moving until the alarm went off at six a.m. for her morning run.
She felt re-energized afterwards, had showered and headed into the office. No word from Jack yet, but that wasn’t unusual. He’d said he had a golf outing, wouldn’t be able to talk all day, so she mentally inventoried her closet for something great to wear on their date tonight.
Their Date…Sara flushed with anticipation and relief. He’d finally done it. Feeling liberated, strong and utterly terrified in equal measure, she waded through emails, chatted with the secretary about various bits of company gossip, listening carefully for any tidbits about Jack the girl might share. By the time she got the first floor call the clock read noon, the end of her shift. The buyer on the other end of the phone wanted to see a listing today, in an hour, out in the township.
Sara sighed, picturing her afternoon spent on a most likely useless trek out to meet a less-than-qualified buyer. She set the meeting, printed out a few more listings in the price range and general vicinity to take with her and finished off the work on transactions she had in the pipeline. Next month would be her most lucrative one yet. Her phone buzzed with a text and she smiled anticipating Jack’s missive. She frowned at the unfamiliar number.
“Hey. It’s Craig. Can you cover me for about thirty minutes? I’m supposed to be there at noon, but am gonna be late.”
“Sure, but I got a last minute showing at one so don’t be much later.” She hit “save contact” and entered his name, the image of his tanned face and long blond hair wavering in her vision. He had proven to be a very quick study, and had picked up the real estate lingo and processes with little apparent effort. Their one close encounter had made for some awkwardness but he’d effectively ignored her since then, so she let it drop.
His lazy smile and easygoing manner, not to mention absolutely adorable southern accent and smoking hot body had quickly made him a favorite among the women. Sara thought she’d heard he had already gone out with an admin flunkie at their corporate office.
At the rumble of his motorcycle outside, Sara grabbed her phone and keys and headed for the back door. The vision that greeted her as she exited made her stumble over the sidewalk. Craig had dismounted his bike, taken his helmet off, shaken his dark blond hair out and pulled off his Ray bans. Sara took in the rumpled khakis hugging his ass and the sinfully tight black t-shirt emphasizing the smooth strength of his arms. He wasn’t bulked up but was deliciously toned. He grabbed a button down shirt out of the compartment behind his seat and was shoving his arms in it when he turned and stopped as he saw Sara standing there staring at him. He grinned and she nearly melted.
Good Lord, he is like a fucking Greek God or something. She stopped herself and smiled back at him, her heart beating faster.
“About time, cutie,” she called out, covering her discomfort.
“Sorry, late night, had a gig over in Grosse Pointe,” he said, indicating one of the farthest Northeast Detroit suburbs.
Jesus, he probably has amazing hands.
Sara shook her head to rid herself of the image of them on his guitar. “No problem. Had a last minute floor call is all. Some guy wanting to see some stupid house way out on Willis Road”
Craig narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re going? Alone? Is that safe?”
“Oh it’ll be fine. But thanks for asking,” she waved her hand as she turned to her car. “Hope you get more calls than I did!” Within a minute, she got another text from him.
“If there is a problem text me 911 and the address.”
Sara smiled and made her way out to the house. The supposed buyer stood her up for nearly twenty minutes, which annoyed her but she pasted on her best smile as she held the door open for him. Within about ten seconds, every inner alarm she had started clanging. He was dressed well enough, tall, with a baseball cap, jeans and a t-shirt. But his eyes traveled over her frame in a thoroughly disconcerting and inappropriate way.
Get a grip Sara. It’s nothing, show the house and be done.
But her nerves kept buzzing and she automatically took the precautions that had been drummed into them — made him lead the way into each room, standing in the hall, feigning a couple of phone calls, remaining in the kitchen while he traversed the large overgrown yard. She immediately tried to call Jack as soon as he walked out the door. His voicemail picked up so she sent him a text: “911 2793 Willis Rd.” and then sent the same message to Craig.
The guy wandered back into the house after about ten minutes. He took a step too close to her and she eased away. She blew out a breath as he continued past her down to the basement. She started towards the front door after he’d spent nearly ten more minutes down there.
“Hey, um Sara, could you come here and show me what this leak is,” the creep called from the basement.
Yeah, as if. I’m out of here.
Sara focused on getting to the front door and down the porch steps towards her car when she felt a rough hand grip her arm. She pulled out of his grasp and he grinned at her.
“You aren’t being a very good realtor now are you,” he grabbed for her again. An adrenaline rush kicked in as she rushed down the steps when he caught the tail of h
er silk shirt. The ripping sound sent a bolt of terror through her brain. Her yell cut through the country road’s quiet when he turned and shoved her up against her car, so hard her head ricocheted against the metal, bringing instant stars to her vision.
Channeling Blake’s self-defense class she slammed her knee up between his legs but he sidestepped her and put a hand over her mouth. He yelped when she bit down on the palm covering her mouth, wrenched her arm behind her back and turned her to face the car.
“Bad realtor,” he muttered into her ear. He yanked her arm up so far she screamed in pain. “Shut up goddamn it.” The guy had his lips so near her ear she could smell the rank odor of cigarettes and unwashed skin. His hand mashed against her ear. The car’s hot metal seared her cheek. She could smell her own sour, sweaty fear. The unmistakable sensation of an erection pressed into her body. The guy’s breath permeated her nostrils. Her brain was on overdrive but he had her completely immobile, pinned against her car door.
She opened her mouth to talk, beg. She felt a rough hand on her leg, shoving her skirt up. Her flight instinct kicked in. She would not stand here and be abused by this asshole. He yanked her away from the car, the air a relief to her scorched skin, quickly replaced by a sting of pain when he backhanded her so forcefully her neck jerked back, one hand still gripping her arm so hard it almost hurt worse than the blow.
“Bitch. Now be still.” He whipped her back around, shoved her against the car door again and put a large hand around her neck. “Yell again, and I’ll squeeze.” Sara’s fuddled brain registered him fumbling around with his zipper.
Tears leaked from her eyes as her mind slowly processed that her own desire for a sale might cost her life. She sobbed and tried to relax so whatever he did wouldn’t hurt as much.
