Floor Time (9 page)

She shook, and he folded her into his arms. "Shh, it's okay. It's going to be fine." He brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. "You have to let me be in control." She nodded. He stepped back and slipped his belt loose from the loops never taking his eyes from hers. The lust spiraled through his brain, nearly blinding him, but he held on. "On your knees," he kept his voice soft remembering the last time he'd tried this what a disaster that had turned out to be. "Now." He slapped his palm with the leather.

She did as she was told. He brought a chair around to face her. "Put your elbows here on the seat, and give me your wrists."

"Jack," her voice was breathy. "I don't know…" He knelt beside her and threaded his fingers in her hair.

"But I do, Sara. I won't hurt you. I swear it. I am however, going to rock your world in ways you have only imagined until now," He tilted her head back, holding tight and kissed her, hard, then broke away. "Give me your wrists." Taking a deep breath, she propped her elbows on the chair seat, shivering when he fastened the soft leather around them, binding her without really fastening anything to gauge her response. "Tell me a word. Any word. As long as I know it. You say that word and I stop whatever I'm doing."

She whimpered and shifted her knees. He hesitated, but then crouched behind her, ran his hands down her bare shoulders, back and to her narrow waist. His hand grazed her ass, the smooth creamy skin tempting him, begging for his handprint.

The loud smack of flesh on flesh made him tingle and her cry out. He clutched her hair again leaning in close. "A word, baby. Any word. Tell me now."

"Emerson." She whispered and moaned as he pressed against her, his cock ready to explode in his jeans. He lowered his lips to her shoulder, ran his tongue up her delicious neck.

"Emerson it is." He bit down, just hard enough to make her flinch then groan as he sucked on her skin. His hand connected with her ass once more, hard, but he knew not too hard. Just enough. Then again, finding a virgin expanse of flesh to tantalize. Then once more, making her squirm against him. He held her close with his other arm, still tasting her neck and shoulders, loving the salty essence of her sweat and the smell of her arousal that grew with every contact.

He pressed her over the chair, forcing her bound arms forward, exposing her bare ass, and groaned at the sight of her angry red skin, ran both hands down her hips and ground his still covered cock into the delectable cleft of her ass. She tilted her hips up, welcomed him and sighed. He reached around and pinched one nipple, then the other, not gentle, waiting to see how she reacted before moving further. "Oh hell yes, I knew you'd like this. How did I know, hmmm?" He leaned over her, using his fingers like clamps, pinching and relishing her moans.

"Oh God, Jack, please," her voice muffled against her arm. He let go of her then, ran both hands down her waist once more then reached around and touched her sex.

"Please what baby? Please what?" He licked his way down her spine, sucking in deep breaths of her, using his finger to press against her engorged and needy clit. "Remember Sara, you can't come. Not until I tell you." He put his entire hand over her mound, felt the heat and wet there then heard a moan but bit down on his tongue when he realized it came from him.

She was so perfect -- and so his. She wiggled under his hand. His breath came in short gasps, his balls tightened, readying his body for release. He pressed in with one finger, slipped inside her and felt her pulse all around him.

"Please…" her voice pleased him. "I need," She sucked in a deep breath.

He withdrew the finger, brought it to her lips so she could taste herself. She sucked hard, making his hips jerk as his body reacted before his brain could reestablish control. "You ready to come baby?" He'd forgotten how difficult this was. How challenging to please before being pleased, to hold someone's ultimate trust in your hands. He drew back, brought his lips to her upturned ass and lapped at the beautiful pink of her pussy. She squealed and spread her legs further. As he slid two fingers into her dripping body, she sighed. "Come Sara, come now!" He reared up and unzipped his jeans grabbed his aching rod and gave it a few jerks. Didn't take much.

"Jack! Yes! Please oh God…Jack." Her voice, her lips forming the sounds of his name as her body bucked and pulsed around his fingers, made the room narrow to a black space where he stood, poised on the edge of a cliff, one well-shod foot ready to make a leap, about to jump again, as his cock gushed and covered his hand and Sara's ass . At that moment he saw her, Jenna, the woman he'd experimented with in law school. The one who'd taught him what it meant to master another person, right before she fucked both his roommates and laughed in his face when he'd tried to propose.

Jack pulled his body away, sat back on heels staring at Sara's amazing still pink skin, her ass and the slick fluid coating her thighs. She did love this. He'd known it somehow. His head suddenly ached with long suppressed memory. Sara squirmed under his gaze. "Jack?" He took a breath. He couldn't do this. Not to her. It was not a road he would travel, not again.

"Baby, I'm sorry." He helped her up, unwrapped her wrists and pulled her in for a gentle kiss. She wrapped herself around him, fisted her hands in his hair, returning the kiss so hard and fast he got dizzy from it combined with the quick way his body had climaxed. "I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair, as he held her close, his brain on fire and his body not far behind.

Sara's skin burned, starting at the sting of her ass and ending with the blaze in her brain. How in God's name had he done that to her -- made her give in, and so turned on at the same time? She let him hold her as her body started to shiver. Held her until she calmed, whispering "I'm sorry's" the whole time. She finally looked up at him. His face was a mask of agony and frustration. Frowning she pushed back from the comforting strength of his chest.

"What's with the sorry? That was, um, incredible." Her ears got hot. She had never, ever been handled like that. Never felt the fucking earth move under her feet. She couldn't understand why he seemed so upset.

Perhaps she shouldn't have let him. He was obviously unhappy with the whole thing. Maybe she should be too, but the thought that they could do this and more together made her bite her lip to keep from begging him to take her home, to play with her more, to possess her like he seemed to want.

Already mentally typing "BDSM" into a Google search, she stared at him, amazed at her body's reaction to this jerk who had stolen perfectly good clients right out from under her nose then ordered her around like, like..

Oh hell, and you'd let him hadn't you? Yes you did. Jesus.

She wiped herself off with a napkin, found her clothes and tugged them back on in silence, determined to rebuff him, reject his little power play. But found herself wanting more, needing his voice, something to reassure her. She held back tears, unwilling to let on how much he'd affected her. As she stared, his eyes darkened to a deeper sapphire.

Struck by their intensity, she realized she hadn't really seen them in the hot office hallway last week. They were one of his most incredibly sexy assets and he used them well.
           

She stood, arms crossed, her pussy still twitching with residual pleasure. He sighed, ran a hand over his eyes. "Sit." He pointed to a chair. She raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry, no. Playtime is over." She started to pick up the discarded strawberry tops and put them on the tray. He gripped her arm, the look on his face causing her to sink into the chair, protests dying on her lips. He sat across from her, gripping her hands.

"I didn't mean to," he stopped and looked down at the floor. "I hope I didn't hurt you." She stared at him. "It won't happen again." Before she could protest, he stood, grabbed the tray and started back toward the house. She closed her eyes against the rush of emotion coursing through her.

"You are amazing." The rough sound of his voice made her uneasy. He had stopped in the doorway and turned, balancing the tray on one hand. His eyes traveled the length of her, making her skin pebble.

"You have turned me into something I didn't know I was, Jack. Someone who would play food sex with you in a house where I'm supposed to working. Who'd take all that…that…" She brushed her hair back, sat up more fully and tried to collect her thoughts.

"Six ninety-five," he said, firmly.

"What?" She stared at him.

"That will sell this thing, babe. Six ninety five."

My God. He'd been rocking her world and thinking about what would sell the house?

"Sure, okay, but tell that to my sellers," she declared, snapping back to reality. If he didn't want to acknowledge the earth shattering way he controlled her out in the open in someone else's house, the incredible connection they'd shared, so be it. She could play that game.

"Sorry Sara, I have clients at six thirty tonight. Gotta dash," he threw over his shoulder.

She followed him back into the house, feeling like a complete idiot, furious at him for ruining the moment and nearly blind with humiliation for letting it happen again.

"Sure. So, I guess I'll see you around Jack," she threw at his retreating back. "I mean, next time you need to get off on a Sunday, that is."

He had reached the kitchen by then, put the tray on the counter, and quickly thrown everything back in the grocery bag. She stared at him as he worked. Her body cooled but her brain came to a slow boil.

He turned around to face her as she leaned against the counter trying to control the quaking in her knees. In one short stride, he reached her and took her face in his hands lowering his lips to hers. The gentle nature of his kiss took her by surprise, calmed the rising heat of her anger. His tongue explored, his lips caressed. Finally, he drew back to look deep into her eyes. He grasped her upper arms, and stared into her eyes as if trying to come up with the right words.

"Sara, that was amazing," he kissed her again, lightly. "I'm sorry to rush, but I'll see you soon, I promise you that." He touched her nose. She wondered if he would wash off the smell of her body before meeting his clients. He grinned that million-dollar grin he was famous for, brought his finger to his lips, and gave it a light flick with his tongue.

"I've gotta show five condos to a newly married couple for the next two hours and they won't know where the sex smell is coming from -- me, or them." She stared at him from across the kitchen as he finished tidying up and put the tray back where he found it earlier. He grabbed the grocery bag and hooked his arm out in invitation for him to join him on his way out the door.

"See you Jack," she said breezily. "Go on, I should close up here."

 She turned away from him, with some effort. Sara's chest tightened when she realized he was actually going to leave without saying anything else to her.

Jesus the man was as bad as everyone said.

Yeah, well what does that make you, Sara?

 
She glanced at herself in the hallway mirror. Her hair was a mess, her face was red, and her linen shirt hopelessly wrinkled. Holding back tears at her own stupidity, unwilling to register her sense of extreme physical satisfaction, she slammed the house door shut behind her

 Once in the car, Jack opened all of the windows and cranked up the radio, letting the Stones drown his agony for the ride home.

 
Fucking-A. The woman is going to mess you up Gordon.
That much was guaranteed.

What he didn't know, for the first time in a long time, was what to do next.

Jack had sincerely hoped that the days away from Sara would have cooled his ardor. Not that he hadn't anticipated a long trip to fun-town with her that afternoon -- and had planned and packed accordingly. But he could not get the vision of her standing in the doorway of that fucked up house out of his head now. He hadn't seen a woman look that good in a while, and since he knew full well what her body was capable of -- he took a deep breath.

He loved how possessive she got about her listing. It occurred to him that perhaps one of the reasons she held such incredible appeal for him was exactly that -- her extreme professionalism. She wasn't doing this job for some extra money while her spouse made the real dough.

Jack shook his head and cranked the music louder before flooring it, letting the powerful car ignite his senses in hopes of clearing his head. He knew that he reverted to discussing the property as a reflex. How many times had he walked into his own friend's houses to play poker or pick them up for golf and automatically start to catalog the problems with the place in his head? He hadn't gotten to the level of earning one-hundred-percent commission for nothing. And frankly, it helped him stay in control, to keep his body from doing what it wanted before he left, which was to tie her down and fuck her until she was spent, then wrap her up in his arms and kiss her until she begged him for more.