Making Over Maris

by Sabrina York

  “Then…why?”

  He levered himself up onto the sofa and pulled her into his arms and kissed her. But softly.

  It tasted like goodbye.

  In fact, he stood and picked up his coat and keys.

  What the fuck? “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Home.”

  Annoyance bubbled. “The hell you are.”

  He smiled at her fury. Which only made her angrier. “Sara, Sara, Sara.” He tapped her on the nose with a long finger. A long finger that moments ago had been worming around inside her cunt. Making her come. “I have to go.”

  “No. You don’t.”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “Why?” Why the fuck? Why?

  “Don’t you know?”

  “Know? No, I don’t know. Know what?”

  He kissed her again and whispered, “A gentleman doesn’t put out on a first date.”

  “What?” Her belly dropped. Typically she didn’t sleep with a guy on a first date either. But this wasn’t a date. It hardly counted.

  His jaw firmed. “Remember that book you gave me? The Proper Gentleman? The one with all the rules?” She glared at him. “Well, I’m following the rules.”

  Damn it! What a time for him to get all principled. “But I’m horny.”

  “Horny? You just came. Several times if I’m not mistaken.”

  Sara bit her lip. She had. Damn it. “But you haven’t come.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  “Wait?” She probably didn’t need to squawk. “For what?”

  He fixed her with a sinful Van Dyke grin. “Tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? What happens tomorrow?”

  He winked. “We have another date.”

  He was out the door and down the steps before she could stop him.

  “Jack?” she called.

  He turned. “Yeah?”

  “Do you put out on a second date?”

  His response was a chuckle and a sketchy wave. And then he hopped into his car and drove away.

  Damn. Damn, damn, damn.

  Thank God she had a vibrator. And tomorrow.

  She had no idea why she felt the irresistible urge to smile.

  Chapter Seven

  Walking away from Sara with the taste of her still on his lips was the toughest thing Jack had ever done. The vision of her face, soft and dewy as she wrung her fingers through his hair, was burned into his brain. He could still hear her cries, her gasps, her moans.

  His steps faltered as he neared his car. He turned, glanced back over his shoulder. She stood there on her porch, hugging herself with both arms, her short black curls waving in the breeze.

  When she saw him turn, she raised a hand.

  Yeah. It was tough.

  He raised a hand too, a brief wave, and then unlocked his car.

  Damn. It was tough. But it was necessary. He gritted his teeth. Very necessary. He didn’t want a roll in the hay with her—or even several.

  He wanted a lifetime.

  Still, he was filled with regret as he made the long drive home. Maybe he should have taken her up on her unspoken invitation to stay. Maybe he should have yanked her into his arms again and laid her down on the carpet and—

  He pulled himself up short. No. He needed to exercise discipline. Play the long game.

  A thrill shot through him when he got home and checked his cell and found a message from her. He trembled as he entered his password and activated the speakerphone.

  The sound of her voice flooded the room. “Hey, Jack. This is Sara. You said we have a date tomorrow but you didn’t say when. Can you call me back?”

  The second message was even shorter. “Oh, and what should I wear?”

  The third message from her number was a hang-up but he thought he heard her mutter a curse on the other end of the line before disconnecting.

  He sat on his sofa in the dark and stared at his phone for a long time—debating whether or not to call her back. He decided to do some research online first. It didn’t take him long—now that he knew what to look for. Once he had it, he punched in her number.

  “Hello?”

  “Sara?”

  “Jack?” Was her voice quivering? Or was it a hum on the line? “Is that you?”

  “Yeah. I got your message.”

  “That was an hour ago.” A tight thread wound through her tone. “What took you so long?”

  He chuckled. “I just got home.”

  “You left an hour ago.” This, she snapped petulantly.

  So she’d called right after he left? Interesting. “Sorry.”

  “Did you get my message?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “What are we doing tomorrow?”

  “Oh. Yeah.” He bit back a grin. “It’s kind of a surprise.”

  “A surprise? How will I know what to wear?”

  “Casual is fine.”

  “What are you wearing?”

  Jack choked on a laugh. “Sara, are you coming on to me?”

  She was silent for a moment. “I meant what are you wearing tomorrow. But…what if I was coming on to you?”

  Heat speared through him at the sultry tone in her voice. “Th-that’s okay. I’d just like to know.”

  Her breath resonated over the crackling line. “I liked what you did.”

  God. He’d liked it too. A lot. Too much. “Did you? I wanted to do more.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  He chuckled. “I figured I’d done enough. When you grabbed my hair and started screaming…”

  “I did not scream.”

  “You made noises.”

  “I couldn’t help it. But Jack?”

  “Yes, Sara?”

  “In the interest of being a good trainer?”

  “Yes?”

  “A guy can never do too much of that.”

  He bit back a smile. He was glad she’d liked it because he hadn’t really known what he was doing. He’d done research on it—lots of research—but he’d never actually done it before. Of course, he wasn’t telling her that. “And in the interest of being a good trainee?”

  “Yes?”

  “I would hope you would give me…directions. You know. If I wasn’t doing it right.”

  She laughed. “You know I’m not shy when it comes to telling men what to do.”

  “Not at all.”

  “But with your technique…”

  “Yes?” Holy crap. He had a technique.

  “I don’t think it’d be possible to do it wrong.”

  “Oh. Did you like my technique?”

  “You know I did.” He liked the way her voice softened, warbled a little. Damn, he wished he were there with her. Fucking her. Right now. But he had to be disciplined. He had to take this slow. It meant too much. “I-I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”

  “Are you?” The thought of pleasing her warmed him. “Me too.”

  * * * * *

  Sara was ready for their date two hours before Jack was due to arrive, although she changed outfits several times in the interim. What was casual anyway?

  She wasn’t sure why she felt so nervous as she stared at her reflection in the mirror—wondering if perhaps she should change again—this was Jack, for heaven’s sake. She’d known him forever. And where had those butterflies flitting around in her belly come from?

  Surely not from thinking about the night before. About the feel of his big palms, his heat, his mouth on her core. She shuddered as she remembered the way his fingers had felt as they eased up into her, deep and thick.

  Her hand stole between her legs. She stroked herself through her casual slacks. Glanced at the clock. Did she have time?

  Probably.

  Without any hesitation she yanked off her pants, pulled down her panties and flopped on the bed, reaching in the drawer for her vibrator. She lounged back on the pillows and tried to pull out her go-to fantasies—but she could only think of Jack.r />
  So she thought of Jack, as she’d done last night when she finished what he’d started, taking out her frustrations in the hard, hot thrusts of her trusty Cuminator.

  Her slit was already wet, creamy. Her clit was engorged. She circled it teasingly, rubbing at the tip of the nub. As she stroked herself with featherlight strokes, she toyed with her nipples. One then the other. All the while imagining it was Jack. Touching her.

  Passion blossomed.

  Before long she was panting and squirming on the bed. She fumbled for the vibrator and groaned as she eased it in.

  Yes. Ah yes!

  His cock was so big. So firm.

  She pumped it a couple times, thrilling at the sensation rocketing through her as the toy hit one tender bundle of nerves and then another.

  Her orgasm crept closer.

  In a panic, she switched angles so she could thrust faster.

  Alternating her attention, she pinched her nipples and rubbed her throbbing clit as tension rose and rose. God, she wished she had more hands.

  Climax hovered just out of range. Frustrated, she shoved the vibrator in and turned it on then closed her legs to hold it in—and went to work on her nipples and clit.

  She hissed through her teeth as pleasure thrummed through her cunt. Damn. She should have bought the more expensive model with higher speeds. Something inside her sparked. She rolled a sensitive nipple and a shock wave rippled down her body. She slapped her clit and rubbed it madly.

  So close. So close. Almost. Almost there—

  The doorbell rang.

  Oh God no.

  He was here. He was here and she was naked from the waist down with a vibrator jammed into her hoo-hah, this close to the orgasm of a lifetime.

  Fuck!

  No. She could make it. She could…

  But no matter what she tried, she didn’t. She couldn’t.

  Damn.

  The doorbell rang again and Sara yanked the vibrator out. It exited with a wet plop. She glared at it—swore that on Monday she’d go back to that adult toy store in West Hollywood and buy a more reliable model—and tossed it onto the bed. She’d have to clean it later.

  Muttering to herself, she pulled on her panties and stepped into her slacks and sprinted for the door.

  Every step was agony because her clit was pinging and her cunt was still clenching in pre-come shivers. Her bra sawed at her tender nipples. She hoped to God she was presentable.

  She opened the door and…God.

  The man of her dreams, of her recent fantasies at any rate, stood there, so unbelievably handsome and yummy and holding a box of chocolates.

  Chocolates.

  She almost came right then and there.

  “Jack. You’re here.”

  He glanced at his watch. “I’m right on time, aren’t I?”

  “Um, yes.”

  “Why do you look so surprised?”

  “Oh, nothing.” She dropped her gaze then flicked it back up, veiled by her lashes. He was so fricking attractive she could eat him up. And she was horny. Very horny. Cream, even now, eased from her cunt and dampened her thighs. She could only hope there wasn’t a wet spot on her crotch. “I was just thinking about you.” She tried for a flirty voice but apparently it didn’t work.

  “Really?” He tipped his head. She recognized the sarcastic cant. “I was coming over to pick you up for a date and you were thinking about me? Wow.”

  She frowned at him. “No, Jack. I was thinking about you.”

  Confusion rippled through his expression.

  “Never mind,” she sighed. Then she nodded at the chocolates. “Are those for me?”

  “Oh. Yes.” He shoved them at her. “I hope you like salted caramel in dark chocolate.”

  Her mouth watered. “My favorite. Come on in.”

  But he hovered on the threshold. “I shouldn’t.”

  Sara shifted from one foot to the other, studying him from tip to toe. He was dressed in that blue sweater she loved; it clung to every inch of his molded torso. She licked her lips. “Come in, Jack.”

  She wanted him. And she wanted him now. His cock inside her. Thrusting. Plowing Impaling her. How delicious would that be?

  “I shouldn’t.”

  Extreme disappointment—and annoyance—bubbled in her belly. “Why the fuck not?”

  He chuckled. “Such language.”

  “Why not, Jack? Why won’t you come in?”

  “Because I’m here to take you out. If I come in, we won’t leave—not for a while.”

  Good Lord. She loved the way his brow quirked when he said that. The wicked smile framed by his naughty Van Dyke. “Okay.” She opened the door wider.

  “Sara.” He crossed his arms. “We have a date.”

  “I know.” She shimmied her hips. “Come in.”

  “I made plans.”

  “So did I.”

  “Sara—”

  “I’ve been thinking about you, Jack. Thinking about last night and how good you felt inside me. I want more.”

  Jack groaned and drew a palm over his face. “Stop tempting me.”

  “Am I tempting you?”

  “You know you are.”

  “Then cede to temptation. Come in.”

  “No, Sara.”

  She put out a lip. “Why not?” Seriously? She was practically begging for it. Couldn’t he see that? She sucked in a breath and prepared to unleash her inner Dominatrix but he forestalled her.

  He went all somber and sincere. Took her hand. Caressed it with his thumb. “I want to do this right, Sara. This is only our second date. Our second fake date,” he corrected himself and she winced. “According to all the research material you gave me, a gentleman does not allow penetration on the second date.”

  Fuck. But she was horny now. “Jack—”

  “Get your things, Sara. We don’t want to be late.”

  She studied him, considering her options. She could slowly unbutton her blouse—or ignore the blouse altogether and stroke a nipple. That would probably get his attention. Or she could simply demand he get on his fucking knees and service her—she really liked that option. But when she’d tried that tack with Todd, it hadn’t gone well. In fact it had been disastrous.

  No, she should probably suck it up and get her things and go with him.

  And concentrate on seducing the shit out of him all afternoon.

  He tapped his toe and she realized he probably wasn’t going to cave. That was the thing about Jack Maris. Once he made up his mind on an issue, it was set in stone. He was extraordinarily stubborn like that.

  “All right.” She tossed the box of chocolates on the table. “But I need to use the facilities first.” She did. She needed to mop up.

  “Don’t be long.”

  She left the front door open. It annoyed her that he remained on the porch.

  Damn, he was stubborn. Intractable. Obstinate. She hated that about him.

  She rushed to the bathroom and did what she needed to do. She changed her undies as well. Because hell, they were wet. It probably wouldn’t make much difference because arousal was still bubbling through her and would be. Until she had that fat cock inside her.

  She’d never been this aroused.

  In the hope it would help, when she yanked up her pants she wedged them into her slit so they would rub against her clit. Maybe that would make her come. If nothing else it would serve as inspiration in her quest to beat down Jack’s defenses.

  She winced with every step though as she made her way back into the living room. “Okay. I’m ready,” she said, grabbing her purse and keys.

  He smiled. “You look nice.” His lips were warm on her forehead. His scent surrounded her. Oh. He smelled clean and fresh—as if he’d just done his laundry. His heat surrounded her too. Her head went light. She squeezed her thighs together. Her clit thrummed.

  “Thank you. Where are we going?” She stepped off the porch and her panties tightened. She shivered.

  Maybe this ha
dn’t been a good idea…

  “You’ll see.” He led her to the car and helped her in. Thank God he helped her in. As she angled herself into the low-slung sports car, her homemade thong gouged into her tender flesh. She fought back a whimper. He came around the car and got in on the driver’s side, studying her for a long while. Too long. “Are you okay?”

  “Mmm hmm.” She bit her lip.

  “Sara?”

  “Yes, Jack. I’m fine.” She didn’t mean to snap at him. This was her fault. “Let’s go.”

  “Are you mad?”

  “No. I’m not mad.” Again. With the snapping. “Let’s go.”

  He shook his head and muttered something and started the car.

  The drive seemed to take forever though in truth their destination wasn’t very far. She felt every bump in the road, every minute movement of the car. In her clit.

  They hopped on the Ventura Freeway and headed through the Valley into the Los Angeles basin. When he took the Silver Lake off-ramp, she glanced at him. She wanted to ask again but knew he wouldn’t tell her where they were going.

  He parked next to a bland brick warehouse that had seen better days and cut the engine. “Here we are.” He shot her a grin. “I hope you like it.”

  Sara studied the facade, adorned as it was with fifty shades of graffiti. “Okay.” As dates went, this one wasn’t too hot yet.

  He came around to open her door—major points, although she was perfectly capable of doing that herself. Clearly he was on his most gentlemanly behavior.

  Damn it all to hell.

  Getting out of the bucket seat was a challenge but Jack was there to help, which was nice. She stood—only wincing a little—and slung her purse over her shoulder. He took her elbow and led her from the parking lot to the warehouse.

  “I hope you like this,” he said again as they stepped through a nondescript door.

  And Sara’s pulse stuttered. “Oh my.”

  The warehouse was a gallery. A showing of landscapes. All black-and-white.

  The kinds she loved to take.

  Something fluttered in her chest. It might have been her heart coming back to life.

  “Oh Jack. This is wonderful!” She grabbed his hand and tugged him to the first landscape and then the next and the next. The photographer’s technique, some of the angles and filters he’d used, were fascinating. One by one, she studied each photograph, cataloging and filing ideas away for her own work.