Page 35 of Making Over Maris

“What?”

“Sit down.” He led her to the sofa and pressed on her shoulder until she sat and then—dear God—he knelt before her and walked himself between her legs. His palms slipped up her thighs, dragging her hem with them. His skin was warm as he drew tantalizing circles on her. And all the while, he held her gaze…

Until her skirt reached her waist, exposing her panties. Then his attention dropped. He swallowed. Licked his lips. She couldn’t help parting her thighs just a bit more. It was a tiny movement but he noticed. His eyes snapped back to hers. Then with one smooth motion, he hooked his thumbs in the elastic of her panties and slowly drew them down.

Sara shuddered and arched up her hips, helping him bare her to his scorching gaze.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he said, a soft whisper. “I want to kiss you, Sara.”

He waited until she nodded, until she put a hand to his head, ran her fingers through his hair and tugged him down.

He showed remarkable restraint, beginning at her knees as he did. He kissed her languorously, up one thigh and then up the other, letting his fingers drift over her flesh, along the sides of her legs, down to her ankles, up to her hips, teasing her, tormenting her until she wanted to smash her pussy in his face.

“Please, Jack.”

He shot her an evil, handsome, delicious smile. “Are you begging for it, Sara?”

Dear God, she was. This would probably be all over the office on Monday but she didn’t care. “Not a request.” She spread her legs farther. “An order. Do it.”

His nostrils flared and he lowered his head. She felt his breath first, warm on her exposed flesh. She tightened the muscles in her belly, tried not to squirm. Because she was aching for him. Aching for his touch.

And ah.

He licked her. Set his tongue to the tip of her slit and licked, swirling around her clit. She hissed and lurched as he nuzzled her, took her button between his lips. And sucked.

Sara cried out as pleasure shot through her body. His mouth was so sweet on her, nibbling and nipping. She spread her legs even wider.

His fingers had stilled their torturous movements, digging into the curve of her ass to keep her still. But then apparently he remembered he had them and brought them into action. She nearly howled as one long finger edged inside. She clenched around it and a shiver coursed through her. He responded with a suck, another lick, a swirl.

She could feel her orgasm coming closer. When he slipped in two, it took her.

It surprised her because it usually took so much more to make her come. But Jack’s mouth, his fingers, his tongue, drove her to madness. She exploded, pinching a nipple with one hand and holding his head with the other.

He kept her going, kept stoking the passion long after the first wave had crested and, to her surprise, he coaxed another. And another, until she was sitting in a puddle, in a boneless mass, on her sofa.

When she was done, when she was utterly drained, he kissed his way back down her legs, finally finishing with a sweet nibble on her toes. And through it all, she twitched and moaned.

Damn, if her arousal wasn’t rising again.

But he leaned back and knelt there between her legs and stared at her solemnly. “Did I do that right, Sara?”

And how. “That was wonderful, Jack.”

He found her panties somewhere on the carpet and slipped them back on her, one leg at a time. Then he brought her hem back down, arranging her skirt, very meticulously, over her privates.

Sara watched with something akin to confusion.

Why was he dressing her? He’d just licked and sucked and finger-fucked her to completion. She was wet and ready and, damn it all, she wanted him. She wanted his cock.

And he wanted her.

Didn’t he?

She glanced down. Yes. It was there. Rigid. Throbbing. She rubbed it with her toe. He allowed it but not for long. He caught her foot and held it on his thigh, stroking it softly.

“Jack?”

“Sara?”