by Liz Crowe
Annette. Her name was like honey to him, pouring through his soul. He’d done exactly as he’d planned, and she’d responded just as he expected. Responding to the hard metal cuffs, the gag, the wax, even the bit he’d let drop right onto her pussy. The sweet, hard button of her clit had quivered when he’d done it and he’d latched onto it with his mouth, sucking and tugging her toward the fourth or fifth operatic climax.
Finally, she’d done the thing he’d anticipated.
“Sir, Sir…oh god, Sir please, please, fuck me…. I can’t stand it. I have to have you inside me.”
He’d undressed then, slipping out of his trousers without a word, releasing her wrists and ankles quickly. He needed to feel her around him, required a deeper connection. Was this it? Could this be the sub he took out…what did Kyle say? For coffee? On a date? Oh dear Jesus, he sincerely hoped so.
He sighed as he slipped into her, taking her with a firm, deep stroke that drew groans from them both.
“Look at me,” he whispered as he captured her wrists over her head on the silk bed cover. “Annette,” he sighed into her neck, moving his hips fast, faster, hard, harder. Her breathing quickened again. She made small sounds of satisfaction as she wrapped her legs around his waist, giving him the deep angle he loved.
“Sir,” she cried out as her body clamped down on his and her pussy pulsed, drawing him ever nearer to his own release. “Oh…yes!”
He let go of her wrists, closed his eyes and let himself have it, that connection, one of physical and potential emotional depth and breadth. His brain buzzed and his body tensed as the orgasm rolled down his spine, making him shudder with its energy.
He opened his eyes, kissed her then for the first time, loving her taste and the way she opened to him. Then, she stopped, her dark eyes seemed to flip a switch—to off. As in “get off me I have to go.”
He pulled out of her, his body cold, his soul frozen as he watched her sit, run her hands through her hair. Then she stood and walked away from him without a look. He rolled to his back, pulled off the condom and stared at the ceiling. This is what you do, Gordon. You fuck them and leave. Why are you expecting this woman to act any differently?
He decided to turn on some native charm, see if he could coax her to stay, try a few more moves. Anything, if she would only stay.
When she walked out of the bathroom she was dressed in a power suit, her hair pulled back, glasses and earrings on. His gaze went straight to the gigantic diamond on her ring finger. He lay, naked, his cock still half hard, and glared at her.
“Hope it was all you wanted it to be. Annette,” he used the name she’d thrown at him, figuring it was not her real one.
She smiled and sat by him, ran a manicured finger down his pecs to his abs, cupped his balls a brief second. “I’ll be back for more, stud,” she said. “My husband is in the next room, getting his ass spanked too. Maybe next time we’ll go for a bigger party room, hmmm, make it a foursome?” But Jack turned his head away, sick at himself for even thinking anything at all beyond what he usually did, for not sticking with what worked, emotionally speaking.
“Maybe,” he said, as he headed for the shower, his mind churning already, letting go of her and the split second he’d thought he’d found something special. Gordon, you truly are the fucking king of bad timing.
He stayed in the shower a long time, then drove home through the dark just before dawn, his eyes burning with self-pitying tears he refused to shed.
He had a long week, four listing appointments and a relocating doctor couple to tour around. They wanted to see every available luxury condo Ann Arbor had to offer, which meant he had a total of three properties to show them, including one he figured they’d buy, the penthouse on the corner of Main and William. Sighing, he rolled the window of Stingray down, cranked the tunes, and let his sexually sated body enjoy a few moments of relaxation.
Chapter Twelve
Jack hit the ground running, literally, the next day with ten miles at five a.m., enjoying the sights and sounds of his Midwest college town coming to life on a pleasant spring day. His head was clear, heart light, body on fire with purpose. On the one hand he wished he had just sat with Kyle, had another bourbon and left. On the other, having that strange, connected feeling with the redheaded sub had been good for him too. It had reminded him of his purpose—fuck early, fuck often, fuck well and go home alone. It was the only way.
There were plenty of women to choose from. Why make it a one-course dinner when the smorgasbord was available? Because for a guy like him, it was exactly that. He smiled when his phone interrupted the stream of sixties Brit rock music for a text.
One of the new clients he was meeting to list her house, in a plum, sought-after neighborhood on Ann Arbor’s southwest side was one of the hottest blondes he’d laid eyes on in a while. She was tall, sort of acerbic, but with a smoking, hard-won body which threw a fuck-me vibe so clear the first time he met her at the front of his office he’d chuckled, making her shoot him a funny look. He’d asked her out, of course, and they had a date set for tonight.
“Looking forward to tonight, Jack,” she said at six a.m. in a text message. “See you soon.”
He ignored it, figuring it for a fishing expedition to see if he’d answer. In no mood for game-playing with a woman he planned to seduce, ride like a circus pony, and then snag her listing, he kept running. He finished up his usual route in time for an extra cup of coffee before showering.
His assistant Jason was already in place, fielding calls and printing out an itinerary for the condo-shopping couple. He dicked around with a few negotiations, but his heart wasn’t in it. Jenna’s face kept jumping up into his consciousness for some stupid reason, alternating with the O-face he’d given Annette or whatever the fuck her name was, a half a dozen times the night before.
He leaned over his desk at one point, his heart pounding so hard it actually hurt when he realized that part of him didn’t even want to go out with the hot blonde potential client tonight. He wanted something else, something elusive and that he, personally had never even witnessed before—a stable home, someone there to meet him, a faceless, nameless…someone.
He shook his head. Then called Evan to see if he had time for lunch before focusing on the rest of the shit he had to do before taking the grand condo tour. By the time he had picked the doctor couple up, he’d worked himself into a small frenzy of frustration.
One thing he fully grasped about himself: he was hardly ever satisfied with what he was doing. He was always thinking of the next task to be done, the next woman to satisfy, the next item on the list. He sighed, recalling the lunch he’d shared with his oh-so-calm friend, who’d done the wild-ass thing of buying a brewery and fallen for the hot chick who owned the damn beer distribution company.
He was happy for Evan. Although part of him rebelled against it, wanted the two of them to go on being pussy-chasing bachelors for a bit longer. Shaking his head at himself, he glanced down to see yet another text from his date—the woman he hardly knew, making a thinly veiled suggestion that he “take his vitamins” for tonight. God. He ran a hand down his face. This is what he’d been reduced to?
He was the envy of men, the target of lust for women. Yet he was miserable. Still unable to find the thing to settle him. “Fuck it,” he muttered, grabbing his suit coat and package of info Jason had put together for the relocating doctors. He had a lot going for him, including his niece and nephew, and they were due in for a visit soon. He had money to do whatever he wanted, friends here, there, everywhere, including Rob whose success at opening and running a brew pub with his boyfriend still boggled Jack’s mind. Maybe he should get a dog…he mused for the millionth time as he climbed into the Lincoln SUV he kept to haul clients around.
Within five minutes of picking up the couple, he was ready to screech to a halt and toss them out on their asses. They were the worst kind of pretentious, moving from Bahhhston, from their precious Haaavaaahd to this, apparently backwater,
hillbilly town of Ann Arbor, Michigan. Mister Doctor was going to serve as head of otolaryngology or some shit, and Missus Doctor would be forced to start her plastic surgery practice all over again. They were insufferable. Jack had to bite his tongue nearly in half to keep from telling them as much.
They dawdled at the first two condos, arguing over the relative merits of a central vacuum system, claiming that there was no way on earth or heaven that Ann Aahbahh could have possibly the vacuum sucking power that Cambridge did. He groaned, noting the time. If he didn’t get the doctor assholes out of here, through the penthouse he was ready to sell them soon, he would be an hour late for his date.
Not that the prospect sounded too bad at the moment, as the woman in question had called him twice while he was trying to work, which he had ignored. He sincerely hoped she would prove worth it, as he was starting to doubt that the house she was offering would be. He’d fucked his way into some prime listings, as early as his first weeks on the job. It was a method that had stood him in good stead. But now, today, it felt all sorts of tawdry and lame.
He ignored the yammering jerks in the back of his SUV and pulled into the underground parking of the large, almost new condo building just a block off the main intersections of downtown Ann Arbor. His construction company had done the interior work on this building, and he was proud of how it had turned out. But he was within seconds of suggesting they skip it. He left his engine running long enough to turn and hope he could convince them to go the fuck back to Massachusetts and leave him in peace. He kept his hand on the wheel, ready to bolt.
“Hey, you know, you guys may not like this unit. It’s smaller than the last one, and I know you had a thing about wanting that extra study. This is a penthouse and it’s a very open floor plan so….” He moved his hand down to the gear shift, his heart already lightening at the thought of dumping them back at the hotel and getting the hell away. Nothing was worth this torture.
“Oh, no,” Missus Doctor Bitchface waved her ring-laden finger and drew up the corner of her collagen plump lips. “We’re here, aren’t we? Might as well.” She shrugged, and Mister Doctor Asswipe chuckled as if to suggest that it was Jack’s fault for pulling into the dark parking lot—that if he had thought ahead and just skipped it altogether they could be shed of each other’s company by now. He cursed under his breath and turned off the ignition.
His shirt was sticking to his back, and he was limp with the effort of trying to say or do anything right for these snobs. Nearly suffocated by his own flop sweat, he couldn’t wait to unload them and take a long shower.
He swore again when the elevator opened up next to the single door and noted that the lock box was cracked open already. Glancing at his watch and the notes Jason had written on his listing sheet he saw that the place was vacant, and there was nothing about an earlier showing. He’d trained his assistant to always ask that. He hated nothing more than bumping up against another agent coming or going. It was a pet peeve of his really. He banged on the door, anger clouding his already frustration-addled brain.
Goddamn it was hot in this hall. He shot the couple an insincere smile, and touched his knuckles to the door once more at the same moment it swung open. He started to speak. When he saw who stood there, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
“Oh, hi Jack,” the woman was just disheveled and blushing enough to send his inner sexual Dominant a crystal clear message. He knew who she was. And her name wafted across his brain in a way that both soothed and irritated him.
He held out a hand, his voice still not working until she laid the set of keys there, sending a bolt of something new and fresh up his arm to the base of his skull. She met his gaze, her emerald green eyes flashing once before she looked straight down to the floor.
The dark curtain that had covered his soul for the last months, years even, seemed to sweep back. He could practically feel himself standing up straighter, sensed the colors in the room deepening, sharpening, the more they stood there in what would be awkward silence. He blew out a breath that he had not realized he’d been holding, then rallied, looked over her shoulder and spotted the man behind her. But when he fixed his eyes back on her deep, green gaze once more he couldn’t repress a huge smile. “Hey Sara,” he said.
Epilogue
The sand was cool on Jack’s bare feet. Sun warmed his back. He could smell the fragrance of roses, and sunscreen. He touched the flower pinned to his shirt, trying to convince himself this day was actually happening.
Activity along the beach was dying down as the guests started taking their seats. He was tucked towards the back, still in the shadow of the multi-layered deck that connected Rob and Blake’s Lake Michigan house to the shore below. His head was clear, but he could feel his knees quaking and acknowledged at that moment—he was flat out terrified.
Not at the step he was taking. Of that he was a hundred percent confident. He loved, was loved, and they were making it official in front of family and friends, finally.
No, he was afraid of failing. Because of all the things he had succeeded at—work, investments, taking over his father’s construction company, even his impressive golf handicap—he’d never once in his entire life had a successful emotional relationship with a member of the opposite sex.
He spotted his sister and her kids sitting in the front row. Her face was pensive, but when she glanced up and met his gaze, she blew him a kiss and gave him a thumbs-up. He waved, weakly, a sudden wave of nausea making him suck in a breath. God he wished Brandis were here.
“Hey, thought you might want this.”
He turned at the sound of a familiar voice. Blake, Sara’s brother, a man who could be her twin in male form stood holding a couple of sweating bottles of beer from his and Rob’s brew pub. Jack hesitated, his ingrained reaction to Sara’s overprotective brother kicking in. But he let it go and held out a hand. They sipped in silence, observing the gathered group milling around while the string quartet played on the deck above them. “I’m happy for you,” his almost brother-in-law said, keeping his eyes trained to the horizon.
Jack finished his beer and held onto the bottle, gripping it tight as the hard reality of their situation hit him. His friend Rob was very sick. The cancer that had lain in wait, in remission, had returned with a vengeance. They weren’t sure how much longer he would last. But he had found love, with, of all people, Sara’s brother, way before Sara and Jack even met. It had made the last few years interesting to say the least. But Jack would take the blame for some of it, and lay the rest at the feet of the woman he was about to marry, and the guy now staring at him, his green eyes a perfect match for Sara’s.
“I know, Blake. Thanks. That means so much…to us both.” He put a hand on the man’s shoulder. They were dressed in similar fashion, khaki pants rolled up over their ankles, feet bare, with soft white cotton shirts bearing a single rose—Blake’s, Rob’s and Evan’s were cream colored. Jack’s was blood red.
“Don’t hurt her.” Blake said, around the mouth of his beer bottle. “That’s all I ask.”
Jack smiled, put his hand out, and Blake shook it. “It is now my solemn mission in life to make sure she is never, ever hurt.”
“Daddy!” A small voice made him turn. Reacting to that word still surprised him. “Uncle Blake!” The little girl raced toward them, her soft, gauzy dress already wrinkled, the flowers in her hair dropping as she ran.
“Hey sweetie,” Blake said, kneeling down to greet her. “What’s up? You’re supposed to be with your mom.”
“She’s crying. So I left,” she said in her matter-of-fact way, clambering into her uncle’s embrace. Blake shot Jack a look. He put a hand on the little girl’s warm back.
“Kate, honey, what’s wrong with Mommy?”
“She says she’s happy. But she won’t stop crying and it’s messing up her makeup and Julie keeps trying to fix it but….” The girl shrugged and reached for him. Jack took his daughter in his arms, closing his eyes for a split second, realiz
ing how very close he had come to losing her, to losing Sara. The last few years were more fraught than he cared to remember. But now, finally, he had it, the final piece in his puzzle—his family. Katie snuggled into his neck. “I’m hungry. Can we have a snack?”
“Tell you what. You go back and tell Mommy that you’re hungry and that Daddy wants to see her, all pretty and not crying. It’s time for her to get down here.”
“So we can get married?” The girl’s bright green eyes lit up at the word.
“Yeah, baby, so we can get married.”
Katie took off, her tanned brown legs pumping fast under the out-of-character girlie dress.
“Jack,” Kyle appeared, holding out a hand. He’d gone and gotten himself ordained or whatever one does, and could officiate at weddings. He was the obvious choice, since neither Jack nor Sara was religious. He wore his khakis and a white shirt too. His face was calm. His eyes twinkled. “Let’s go, man. Time to do this thing.”
Jack sucked in a deep breath and walked towards the small, flower covered arbor on the beach. Kyle leaned in at one point and said, “You sure about this? Don’t want to rush you or anything.” Jack looked at him, and grinned at the absurdity of that statement.
Then he simply stood waiting. When he saw her appear at the top of the deck, face radiant, hair flowing down around her shoulders, the simple white sundress highlighting her every curve, and smiling right at him, Jack finally felt true happiness.
Later, during all the hullabaloo, food, drinks, photos, she dragged him aside and pressed her body close. He shifted, feeling himself respond, and leaned down to kiss her but she turned her head away. “What?” he said, knowing she was about to say something. Putting a hand to her face, he let himself have it—another moment of raw, visceral joy.
She held onto his waist, put her forehead to his. “I’m pregnant,” she said.