Winning Cait

by Zoe Mullins

  “Uh, huh.” She frowned. “They don’t need you to accompany them.”

  “You are forgetting who brought Cait to her first class.” Jackson was bizarrely pleased when Sophie didn’t seem to know what he was talking about. “Me.”

  “So you actually do yoga?”

  “Well, not for a while, but I do know what I’m doing.”

  Just then the door opened again and Ben strode in. “Am I late, boss?”

  “Seriously? You are making Bengo to class.”

  “No one makes me go anywhere, kiddo.” Ben smiled at her. “But if it gives me an excuse to see you, then I won’t say no.” He leaned in to kiss her. She smacked him on the cheek before his lips could make contact. A light discipline, that made him smile and raise his brows.

  “That’s two,” Ben warned her, looking mischievous.

  “Children,” Jack admonished, “we are here to support Cait’s business and to support Patrick and Samantha. Sam is shy enough meeting new people. She doesn’t need to deal with our baggage.”

  Sophie glanced over at Sam who was acting as if she would bolt at the first opportunity. “Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry.” She got them signed in and had them fill in all the medical disclosure forms while the last class finished up.

  It was a seniors’ Hatha class, whereas this one was an Ashtanga-based power flow.

  “Hi there,” Cait said, seeing Patrick and Sam. “You must be Samantha.” She barely spared Ben andJack a look as she ushered Patrick and Sam into the class. She continued to chat with Sam as the others prepped their mats and props.

  Jack took a spot in the back, with Ben andPatrick taking positions on either side of him. The class sat quietly as a few others arrived, closing their eyes in meditation.

  If it disturbed her to have him there, she didn’t show it. She led the class confidently. She had a soothing voice and prompted the students through the flows, offering variations for both the more and less experienced in the class.

  He had always been drawn to yoga because of the focus on the self. Unlike the competitive sports he played—baseball and football—yoga allowed him to focus solely on how his body moved, how his breath flowed. As he went through the vinyasa—downward dog, plank, chaturanga, baby cobra, downward dog—he realized that he needed to start doing this again. His muscles were crying already.

  Forty-five minutes passed quickly, and except when practicing tree pose, he hadn’t thought once about staring at the instructor’s ass. She saidfocus on something that doesn’t move, but his focus was all on her.

  “Namaste,” she said, bowing forward from a seated position, to the class.

  “Namaste,” the class repeated, also bowing, before rising to put away their props and roll up their mats.

  As the guys rolled up their mats, Patrick groaned. “I always thought yoga looked easy,” he said, stretching his back. “I think I am going to be in pain tomorrow.”

  Samsmiledback at him. “Told you so.” She winked and then walked to where a small group of women were talking to Cait.

  “Sam seems to have enjoyed herself,” Ben remarked and Patricksmiled.

  “I love watching her practice,” Patrick confessed. “And Cait made her feel very welcome. I can tell they connected somehow.”

  “Cait has that way about her,” Jack said proudly. “And when it comes to her practice, she’s always taken it very seriously.”

  “I thought you were crazy when you first suggested I push Sam to practice, but she’s a lot calmer than she used to be, and more accepting of herself and her limitations.”

  Limitations was code for the burn scars that pinched the skin tight around the left side of her neck, shoulder and down her torso. Her movement was greatly restricted because of them.

  “I’m glad it helped.” He nodded toward the front. “It seems like the three of them are going to be fast friends.”

  Sophie, Cait andSam were chatting animatedly. They joined them and Patrick slipped his arm around Sam’s waist, pressing his lips against her temple. Ben tried the same thing with Sophie but she stepped away. Cait andJack hid smiles at Ben’s thwarted attempts.

  “We were just telling Sam that she should join us the next time we have a girls’ night out,” Cait told them.

  “That sounds like fun,” Jack said.

  “I think that sounds like a great idea,” Patrick agreed.

  Sam pulled Patrick along to the boutique to show him a sweater she had seen there, while Ben followed Sophie back to the front desk like a puppy on her heels. Jack shook his head.

  “So, are any of your friends not in the lifestyle?” Cait asked him when they were alone in the studio.

  “Is that a guess?”

  “I know Doms when I see them.”

  He shrugged. She wasn’t wrong. “Is that a problem?”

  She eyed him thoughtfully for a minute, before shaking her head. “No Sir.”

  “I like when you call me Sir.” He grinned down at her before stealing a quick kiss. “You didn’t mind us coming today did you?”

  “No. I like that you wanted to.” She smiled and let her hands rest against his chest.

  “I want to come back again.”

  “The schedule is available online.”

  “And when can I see you again, for say a private class?”

  “Are you asking me for a workout or on a date?”

  “Who says they aren’t the same thing?” He grinned. “I am asking you on a date.”

  “Speaking of dates.” She distracted him. “What’s between Sophie and Ben?”

  “She didn’t tell you?” He laughed. “Our fierce little banker Domme used to be his sub.”

  Cait’s jaw dropped open. “No way. He’s the bastard?” She had heard a lot about him, but what she heard and the playful man she knew were not easily reconciled.

  “Is that what she calls him? He won’t like that.”

  “She says it with love,” Cait offered.

  Jack snorted. “That doesn’t make it better. Now, about our date?”

  “Soon.”

  “That’s not an answer,” he growled.

  “Let me see what I can do with my schedule.”

  “Okay.” He kissed her again quickly. “But I’m not going to forget.”

  Chapter Nine

  She stood in front of the wall of windows that made up the south side of Jackson’s home. It couldn’t deny that it was fantastic. All light and open. Very much as she always pictured it would be. She tapped her wineglass with a newly manicured nail.

  It may never have madeCanadian Architect, or Architectural Digest, but the house said a lot about the man. All wood and stone and leather and glass. It was warm and natural.

  So different from the houses and condos she and Logan had lived in. Logan’s personal style matched his professional interests. His designs were sleek and modern—concrete, iron, metal and glass. While some of the finishings were the same, the final products never had the warmth that she craved. They were incredible buildings, incredible homes—but transparent and meant to keep you at arm’s length. Not like Jack at all.

  He had been leaning against his truck when she had left the grocery store. It was Saturday but he was dressed for work. Crisp dark-gray pants and a black cashmere sweater. He had thrown a leather bomber jacket with his company logo over top to break the chilly wind blowing off the water that afternoon. Despite the sun, it was a cool day for June.

  Jack’s eyes had been hidden behind dark sunglasses, but she knew they would be as warm as his smile.

  She had felt her belly flutter and her nipples tighten when she had seen him. She had smiled and wondered how she could have gotten so used to seeing him again already. He had stopped into her class twice earlier this week.

  He had seen her cloth shopping bag, a French baguette sticking awkwardly out of the top, and suggested they go back to his place for dinner. She had hesitated for maybe a minute, and then agreed.

  He had opened a nice Pinot Noir, and
they had nibbled on cheese and bread and talked about the house until he had gotten an urgent work call. She had laughed when he rolled his eyes, and began trying to calm down the developer. He had disappeared into his home office about ten minutes ago.

  It had given her ample time to admire the view of the bay and to think. Mostly about him and how different their lives would have been if her decisions back then had been different. She sighed deeply. She didn’t want to think about the past, but it was all around her tonight. Being in Jack’s house, seeing Jack’s life and her own displayed in photographs around his home.

  He had kept photos of her. And not only kept, but framed them as if the memories they represented were precious to him. She hadn’t expected that.

  A triptych frame next to the fireplace held a picture of the three of them. They were at the summer fair. They looked young, and a little drunk. They guys were raising their red Solo cups in a toast. It had been the first night she’d spent with the both of them.

  The next photo was of her and Logan. He must have sent Jack the photo of the two of them. It was taken not long before he died. She remembered wearing that dress to a gallery opening for some promising artist. She squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears.

  And finally, there was a photo ofLogan and Jack that she had never seen before. She had to stop herself from reaching out and touching it. They looked so happy. Boyhood friends. She tapped her wineglass harder.

  “Careful you don’t chip a nail, baby girl.” His voice stopped her tapping. She turned and looked over her shoulder.

  “How long have you been standing there?”

  “I was just admiring the view.” He sat on the edge of a leather club chair.

  “When was the picture of you and Logan taken?” she asked as she tried to get her emotions under control. She didn’t want to end up crying again tonight. It had been embarrassing enough at her house.

  “On our annual fishing trip four years ago.”

  That got her attention. She looked over her shoulder at him. “Your annual what?”

  “He said he told you.” Jackson sighed heavily. “After that first year, he asked if we could start up our annual fishing trip again. I should have known he hadn’t told you.”

  “That sneaky bugger.” She laughed. “No, he never told me. Not that I would have begrudged him.”

  “We bumped into each other so often on business, we had to learn to get along again. We were fine so long as we didn’t talk aboutthe past. Or you.” Jack poured himself another glass of wine.

  “So what did you talk about?”

  “Everything else, and the past and you.” He smiled as if he were just remembering something. “We usually ended up throwing a punch or two before the end of the weekend.”

  “I’m glad he didn’t lose you in his life completely.”

  “Like you did.”

  She didn’t want to talk about her dead husband anymore and quickly changed the subject. “The phone call sounded likework? Anything important?”

  “The engineer ran into an issue on the plans.”

  “Do you have to go out?” She was used to her evenings interrupted by Logan’s frenetic schedule. She had things to do at home anyway. Laundry beckoned, and she should do up next week’s schedule for work. She had a new part-time instructor starting and, with Jackson’s roofing team scheduled to start work at the end of next week, she wanted to be around for it.

  “It’s nothing that can be fixed tonight. It’ll be there in the morning,” he said quietly. “I don’t have to go anywhere.”

  She turned and stared at him. She sensed a change in him. He was more tense than he was while they were enjoying the bread and cheese. She raised her eyebrow in question as she drained her glass.

  “You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamt of you here. Barefoot, sipping wine in front of those windows.” He gave her that naughty grin, the corner of his eyes crinkling. “Except you are entirely overdressed.”

  Cait smiled and took a deep breath. Her heart was pounding but she decided, as she put her wineglass down, that she wasn’t going to chicken out. She slipped her hands into her waistband and pushed her capris down her legs. “Better?”

  “That’s a start.” He smiled once she kicked her capris aside. Her black panties stood in stark contrast against her pale skin.

  Cait gripped the edge of her off-the-shoulder sweater. The appreciation in his eyes made her bold. She pulled the soft sweater over her head and tossed it onto the couch. She was braless with only a silky camisole. She knew her nipple rings showed through the thin material.

  She waited for him to say something. Anything. But he just looked at her. His eyes seeming to drink her in. She felt her panties dampen, as she shifted her weight nervously from foot to foot.

  “Come here,” he said finally. He spread his legs wide and welcomed her between them. His hands skimmed over her silk-clad breasts, his thumbs grazing the rings. Her nipples grew harder beneath his touch. “You are so beautiful.”

  She bit her lip but didn’t say anything.

  “I can hear your brain buzzing from here.” He laughed. “Why does it bother you when I say you’re beautiful?”

  “I’m trying not to say something that will get me punished for not trusting you.”

  He slid his hands down her arms and held her hands, bringing them to his chest. “No punishment. Just honest communication.”

  “You fell in love with a twenty-year-old girl. It’s been more than a decade.” She shook her head.

  “And the years have made you stronger. More independent. And that is beautiful to me.” His hands slid over her bare hips. “I see this lush little body and all I can think about is all the ways I can play with it. You have no idea how hard I get just watching your hips sway as you walk. Or knowing that beneath those constrictive yoga tanks are those pierced little nipples.” He grinned at her. “How do you keep them hidden?”

  She marveled at how boyish he looked even with the gray in his hair, and the crinkling around his eyes. She stroked her right hand over his forehead, her fingers tracing down his cheek. “Padding. All my tops have room for light padding, which means I can wear either barbells or rings without much worry that anything will show through.”

  “You look luscious and all I can think about is you running around in those tight little clothes all day with nothing, or next to nothing on beneath them.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “One day you will believe me when I tell you how sexy you are.”

  “Okay.” She grinned at him. “I will stop arguing.”

  “Good. There are better things to do with that mouth.” He quirked a brow at her questioningly. “Do you want that? Do you want to be on your knees for me?”

  Her heart fluttered and she licked her lower lip. That was exactly what she wanted. She wanted to be on her knees, tasting his come. She slid her hands down his legs as she dropped to her knees in front of him. Jackson unzipped his pants and spread them wide. His cock was hard and aching, and twitched when he ran his palm up its length. The corner of his mouth lifted in a sly smile.

  “Tell me how bad you need this,” he commanded.

  She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. “I needto taste you.”

  Jackson gathered her hair in one hand, collecting it at the top of her head. With the other hand, he guided his cock to her mouth and ran it across her closed lips. Her tongue darted out to taste the pre-cum gathered on the tip. He gripped her hair tightly and pulled heraway.

  “I didn’t give you permission to taste.” His voice was low and gruff.

  She wasn’t the least bit repentant. “You didn’t say I couldn’t.”

  “You know that’s not how it works, and I’m not going to forget your insubordination,” he warned her, but he was smiling. “And what do you call me when we play?”

  She swallowed against the pinch in her scalp as he pulled her hair. “Sir.”

  “Open your mouth to me,” he whispered urgently. He moaned as he slid h
is hard length along her tongue.

  She leaned into him, as much as his grip let her. She’d caught herself daydreaming more than once this week about being on her knees in front of him. She craved his taste and sucked greedily on him. She slid her hand down to cup his sac, stroking and squeezing. She ran her nails over his balls and felt them draw up.

  “Fuck, Cait,” he groaned.

  She could feel him against the back of her throat as she took him deeper. He was the first man she’d ever done this to, and she had never forgotten how he liked it. “A firm grip. Make me feel it,” he had told her so many years ago. He would let her start out slow, setting her own pace as she licked and nibbled his cock, rolled his balls between her fingers. But he would quickly grow impatient.

  She sucked him deeper, swallowing against him. It was so good. Too good. She loved his taste. The feel of his hard flesh forcing her lips apart, sliding across her tongue. When he rubbed against the back of her throat she hummed with excitement.

  She needed to feel him thrusting into her, using her. She slid her hands behind her back, giving him permission to use her mouth as he wanted. He growled and slid his hands to either side of her face, his fingers still gripping her hair, pulling at her scalp.

  He took what she offered, needing it harder, faster just as much as she did. She knew he loved coating her tongue with his come.

  She could feel his cock sliding into her throat. She struggled for a moment, her gag reflex engaging, but she breathed through it, even as he whispered to her. Reminding her that she could take it, take all of him.

  She trembled slightly and moaned. The vibrations resonated against his cock.

  He groaned. “Keep doing that and you’ll make me come.”

  She looked up and caught him watching her. Her mouth surrounding him, her lips stretching around his girth, meeting his hard thrusts. She hoped he knew how much she loved serving him. This wasn’t a chore, as she’d heard some of her friends complain. She loved it. Hungered for it.

  He grabbed her head with both hands and pumped into her mouth, his cock erupting. She softened into him, her nose pressed against his abdomen, as he felt her swallow his seed. He continued to spasm as he held her head locked to him. His cock softening in her mouth.