by Liz Crowe
He leaned down to lick the sweat rolling down her long neck. “Touch me, exactly the way you want to. Then I’ll let you come.”
The sensation of her hand on his cock made him groan and press higher inside her. He bit down on the salty delicious flesh of her shoulder. “Come now, baby. Come now.” She obliged, in a delicious rush, calling his name, her hips jerking against his hand, which sent him straight over the edge. His vision darkened and he grunted and coated her stomach as she clutched him close.
“Kiss me,” she whispered. He heard his own whimper when their lips met, when her tongue thrust into his mouth, making that final connection she insisted upon. One he used to avoid that he’d grown to love. He pulled his fingers from her body, and she released him, leaning back against the tree. Reaching out to use his shirttail to wipe her hand, she smiled.
“Tell me something, Jack.” He nodded, hands on his hips, trying to wrap his head around what had just happened. He was a pre-meditated sort of guy. Liked to plan his encounters and she’d managed to pull him into not one, not two, but three utterly unplanned sex acts that were among the hottest in his memory. She made him so eager to get her alone, with nothing but them, a bed, some candles and a box of condoms he could hardly see straight. “What is all of this, anyway?”
He stared at her. Her compelling emerald colored eyes were dark but her jaw set in a way he’d also come to recognize now that he had a grip on her body language. She was pissed off. “Um, what is all of what?”
He knew what she meant, but couldn’t answer it because he had no answer. The images flashed through his fuzzy brain – of her in his king-sized bed in his house, wrapped in his too-expensive sheets, calling his name as he brought her to glorious climax again and again before being able to sink deep inside her with his cock and not just his fingers and tongue. For the first time since Jenna, he didn’t even want to involve the kink. No doubt it would be fun, and they might get to it later, but he wanted to make love to Sara, not fuck her. He wanted her to moan with pleasure as he taught her things she never knew about her own body. But it was the sort of connection that he’d gone so long avoiding, his brain was already shutting him down, reminding him that, while she was fun, she’d only cause him heartache in the end.
Time to go.
Yep Without a doubt. Get out now, Gordon before you lose what’s left of your mind over this woman.
He settled his face into what he hoped was neutrality. “All a lot of fun, best I can tell, babe.” He patted her ass and jogged off, wincing at his own lameness. When she flew past him he picked up speed, dreading the six miles back to her place, as his body went into post-climax shutdown mode.
Determined with a stubbornness born of self-preservation, Sara put her hands on his shoulders, went up on tiptoes, and gave him a chaste peck on his rough cheek. She’d spent the entire run back coming up with excuses to get him to stay, to follow her inside and fuck her silly, take a nap then start all over again. Dear God, she had it bad. But when they jogged to a stop in front of her condo, he stood, frozen in place.
After glancing around with serious out-of-character nervousness, he put his hands on her hips and gave her a gentle but firm push away from him. “I have to go.”
Not sure if she was shocked or what, she watched him open his car door and get behind the wheel.
“What, no good-bye kiss?” She propped her arms on the door when he rolled the window down and motioned her over. Her heart pounded with disappointment and a prickling of anger. She wanted to believe he’d say something about grabbing a shower and picking her up later for dinner, or a movie, or something. Instead, he cupped her face with one hand and kissed her with a surprising tenderness.
“You continue to amaze me, Sara. But I’ll catch you tomorrow – it’s poker night at my house and I, ah, I still gotta buy beer.”
She frowned, stood, and watched as he drove away, her body cooling down in more ways than one. The realization that she was ready to agree to anything to stay near him, but apparently he’d had his fill and could go on his merry way, drew a string of curses from her lips. She stood in the shower, post-run and post-orgasm adrenaline still coursing through her system. The lack of him, the empty space where she wanted him to be right now made her chest ache.
Sara, get a grip. Do not delude yourself into thinking you are in love. Lust maybe. Obsession born of something unobtainable, without a doubt. But not love. Not with this guy.
The water sluiced over her flushed face, calming her further. She had a ton of work to do tonight anyway. The thought of her to-do list forced Jack to the back of her brain as she scrubbed and emerged, determined to treat today’s little encounter casually, like he undoubtedly had. Staring at herself in the bathroom mirror, her body red from the hot water and earlier physical exertion, Sara suppressed a jolt of panic rising in her throat.
They were too much alike, both of them avoiding anything that hinted at an emotional connection. She sighed. Why she couldn’t just own up to it and tell him how she felt, it was beyond her. The tension had ramped up to a scary level, but the conflict in her heart wouldn’t let go. She stomped out to the living room, grabbed a water bottle, and fired up her laptop.
Damn him.
She gritted her teeth.
She did not want this. She didn’t want him in her life.
Or did she?
Chapter Nine
Jack gunned his engine. He had shocked himself, coming up with yet another line of bullshit so quickly. God, he wanted her – more and more every day it seemed. But she kept him at arm’s length, making him doubt his every move, his every thought about her.
You could change that you know, you idiot.
Open your stupid mouth and tell her how you really feel.
The Corvette’s engine rumbled and the power gave him a familiar comfort. He had to grip the steering wheel hard to resist turning around and driving back to her. His phone buzzed with a text and he smiled, anticipating Sara’s request to return. Instead, the screen showed Jason’s message about some random work-related crap. He sighed and made the turn onto his tree-lined street.
Jack realized what was happening. He was self-aware enough to get it by now. Her strength drew him – her absolute independence turned him on and made him need to prove to her that she didn’t have to be so damned strong all the time. He desperately needed her to want more from him, and for the first time in his vast experience, had no idea if she even gave him a second thought after each time they’d messed around.
After that first night in the office hallway he’d been single-minded about her. Even as all the old garbage about Jenna rolled back into his consciousness. He’d tried with her. He’d loved or at least what she did to him. He’d even loved their silly Dom/sub playing around.
Obsessing over a woman was not new but he recognized the difference this time. The aura of complete and utter control over another person’s soul, her happiness and satisfaction was a huge part of the buzz of the BDSM thing for him. Something about Sara brought it all roaring back with a vengeance. And yet, not the hard core stuff. He had exactly zero desire to make her play at being his submissive. He wanted more from her. And that was the core of his problem. He smacked the steering wheel and cursed.
After that incredible moment in the trees, he’d experienced a surge of pure panic. The admission in his own head that he could easily scoop her up and carry her over his back Fred Flintstone–style, never letting her out of his sight, forced him to make up some stupid lie to escape and retreat. Usually he couldn’t wait to get away from whatever female he’d had. Now, in some perverse reversal of logic, he reverted to silly lies about “plans already made” to keep from acting on his impulse to stay, to never leave her side.
Way to blow it, John Patrick. Poker night, for God’s sake – where did that come from? Now what?
Jack threw his keys on the kitchen counter and splashed cold water onto his face. He leaned on his hands and gazed out of the window at the patio he’d ha
d installed last spring. Designer furniture graced every corner and a two-thousand-dollar grill sat perched near the edge. All the shit that had made him completely happy a few months ago mocked him now with its shallowness.
“Fuck!” He ran upstairs to the luxurious master suite he’d designed himself. He loved his thirties-era bungalow in one of Ann Arbor’s premier neighborhoods, had spent hours converting it into a glorious home to his exact specifications. The steam shower enveloped him, soothing his frazzled nerve endings as he leaned both hands on the imported Italian tile walls, letting the water run down his neck and across his shoulders. When he closed his eyes he could see her again, feel her under his hands, her amazing responsiveness, fire, and passion.
He scrubbed himself clean, before too many thoughts of her drove him mad, or to needing another hand job. Drying off quickly, Jack glanced at his phone, saw a couple of texts from a female friend seeking a companion for the nights, and smiled.
Yes, that’s it. A nice night with a different one – that will drive her out of my head. Someone easy, simple, who doesn’t require more than just a quick fuck.
He dressed in jeans and a t-shirt sporting the logo of his friend Evan’s brewery, then went downstairs and straight for the liquor cabinet. The night had cooled, and he was determined to enjoy the damn patio furniture his decorator had chosen and made him purchase. Jack loved nice things but he was known to balk at their pricetag at times. It was too ingrained in him not to.
He poured himself a double bourbon, opened the French doors, stepped onto the paver stones, and dropped into a cushy chair. Images of Sara across from him, on his chair, in his house, her eyes bright with laughter, wine glass in hand, long tanned legs tucked up under her as they talked about their respective days, rose unbidden. He downed the bourbon in one fiery gulp. His phone buzzed across the table but he ignored it. She’d never call. Not tonight. She’d gotten what she wanted and could ignore him until the next time.
You have to say something to her, dumbass. Women need to be communicated with, remember?
Yeah, the last time I was the Great Communicator with a woman she… oh, fuck it.
After another healthy pour of Kentucky’s best, he relaxed and allowed the thoughts of Sara permeate his mind. His throat closed up with anxiety, his heart pounded faster, denying what his bourbon-infused brain was telling him – that he might very well be in love with Sara Thornton. In one quick motion, Jack stood, scooped up keys and phone, and headed for his front door on a mission to talk to someone who might set him straight.
As he pulled into a parking spot at the Big House Brewing Company’s Tap Room, Jack smiled at the sight of his buddy’s vintage Jaguar crouched near the door. Evan Adams had car lust nearly as bad as Jack did, one of the many things that had kept them close in the years after law school.
He slammed his Corvette door shut and glanced around the lot, noting a few other cars he recognized. His friend had opened Ann Arbor’s only true tap room a few years ago, giving everything he had to his dream of brewing craft beer and serving it in his own space to friends, beer snobs, and geeks alike. Their company had fast become a regional success story. However, at that moment, Jack needed his buddy’s ear and he hoped Evan wasn’t busy.
He pulled the door open, letting the unfamiliar but pleasant odors of brewery operations flow around him and out into the humid night. Suzanne, Evan’s business partner and one of Jack’s friends-with-benefits from college, spotted him and waved from behind the bar. He smiled at her redheaded perkiness and took a seat, leaving two chairs empty between him and the nearest customer.
Checking his phone again, he noted a couple of texts from the same woman he thought he might call later – but nothing from Sara. As he looked up, he saw several people in the room he’d sold houses to and reflected that he really ought to get out there and talk to them but was somehow frozen in place by the disappointment of not seeing her name on his screen. He put the phone in his pocket and leaned on the bar hoping to stay anonymous a bit longer.
“Gordon!” He turned at the sound of Evan’s voice. “What the hell? It’s eight o’clock Friday night and you’re alone?” Evan walked around behind the long length of bar and stood in front of Jack. “You’re destroying my image of you, man, I have to tell ya.” He smiled and poured him their hoppiest beer – Jack’s favorite.
He accepted the glass and drained half of it. Evan raised an eyebrow then busied himself wiping off the glassware drying by the sink. The additional alcohol started to work its magic. He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, watching as the Tigers pulled to a five-to-five tie with the Indians in silence. Suzanne appeared at his elbow and he hugged her small frame, his mind drifting to their short time as a couple.
Jesus, Gordon, you are really an expert at letting the good ones get away.
He shook his head. Suzanne pulled back from his embrace and stared at him, suspicion in her eyes.
“Okay, Jack, who is she?”
He glared at her. “Leave me alone. Don’t you work here? I’m telling your boss you’re fraternizing with customers.” He turned back around and leaned on his elbows so she would stop staring at him.
Evan got a fresh glass, filled it to the brim and put it in front of him. Suzanne had a knack for figuring out what was wrong with you, sometimes even before you did. Jack slammed the second beer back and she caught his eye. Evan put a glass of ice water down on the bar.
“Chaser,” he muttered.
“Thanks.” He looked up at the industrial ceiling. “So, I have two different women wanting me to meet them out tonight,” he began. Suzanne snorted in disgust.
“And your point is what?”
“What the hell is wrong with me?” Jack asked the ceiling. “I mean she’s a colleague, for Christ’s sake, ten years younger than me.” He watched his friends exchange a look.
Jack ran a hand down his face. “One more.” He pushed the empty glass towards Evan. “But only if you join me.”
Evan poured three beers. Jack raised his. “Here’s to being nearly forty, gainfully employed, and alone.”
“And rich as God, don’t forget that. Oh, and with a black book any man would murder for.” Evan clinked his glass against Jack’s.
“And a jerk, plus drunk too early on a Friday night. Don’t forget that.” Suzanne joined them and smiled as Jack rolled his eyes. “You know, you’re supposed to savor this beer, boys. It’s not PBR.” She took Jack’s face between her hands and forced him to look at her. He squinted and acknowledged he probably should slow down a little after a double bourbon and three beers on an empty stomach.
“I don’t know what your problem is, Gordon, or who this colleague is that’s got you tied up in knots but don’t sell yourself short because you’re ‘alone.’” She gave him a soft kiss on the lips. “Sometimes ‘alone’ isn’t a bad way to be. Something you ought to get better at, maybe. Keep yourself out of trouble that way.” She stood and took her pint glass with her. “I gotta work. You boys carry on without me but try to behave.”
Jack watched her walk around to the far end of the bar. “I surely missed the boat with that one.” He turned to Evan. “What the fuck was my problem? I mean, besides commitment-phobia.” Jack trailed off and finished off his third brew.
“You’ve still got that uber smoking hot beer sales chick, don’t you?” Jack pointed at Evan. “You slam dunked on that one.”
“Yeah, Julie is great,” Evan admitted. “But what the hell is with you, man?”
“Oh, fuck, I don’t know.” Jack stared at the baseball game on the TV behind his friend. “This girl, she’s up in my head in a way I...” He ran a hand down his face. “She’s perfect for me. Driven, focused, not clingy, a goddamned tiger between the sheets, and independent as hell. The whole package.”
“Uh, yeah, and you’re here getting drunk with me on a summer night why, exactly?” Evan refilled his water glass. “Wait, is this the one you were jacking off over on our Up North trip? Holy shit, t
hat one?” He laughed as Jack nodded. “Jesus, dude, I haven’t seen you this worked up in a long time. You aren’t thinking of doing anything stupid, are you?” Evan frowned at him. “Hey, you haven’t…” Jack looked around. “She’s not… oh fuck. She is, isn’t she?” Evan sucked back half his beer and stared at Jack. “Look, Jack. I don’t know if you realize this but you’ve got that look. You know, the one you get when…” He glanced over Jack’s shoulder again. “You do know that Julie and I…” Jack stared into his friend’s eyes. “We, ah, joined the club again. Downtown. I mean, if you want to come back.”
“No, no, it’s not like that.” He closed his eyes. “She’s pretty amazing, but not… I mean, I can’t. I don’t want to. Not with her. She’s…different.”
Evan raised an eyebrow. The two men had spent several years in high demand as Doms at an exclusive downtown club. Jack knew the guy had read him. It was built into their DNA. He put his head on his arms. “Fuck me running.”
Evan slapped his shoulder. “I can read you like a book, Gordon. You should go with it. Call her. Go to her. Do something besides sitting here and worrying my staff.” The both glanced down the bar at Suzanne who had her laptop open in front of her but was staring back at them.
Jack glanced at his phone for hundredth time, noted somewhat blearily that he had another text from some woman he couldn’t even remember. Apparently he’d gone down on her in such a memorable way that she wanted more, tonight, if possible. He threw the phone onto the bar’s surface and made his way to the men’s room. When he returned, he’d somehow become attached to a tall, exotic looking woman. Evan raised an eyebrow and Jack shrugged.
“Let me buy – um, what did you say your name was, honey?” Jack leaned into her neck and she giggled. Her body was the opposite of Sara’s: tall, angular and sharp. And she smelled nice.