Page 44 of Making Over Maris

Chapter Eight

“So, Jack.” Sara swung her purse as they headed back to his car. They’d been in the gallery for quite a while. The sky was starting to darken as dusk descended. “What do you have planned next?”

“Dinner.” He opened the passenger door and helped her into her seat. She could think of one thing and one thing only.

“Dinner?”

“I researched restaurants in this neighborhood. There are some great ones.”

Of course he had.

Researched.

He got in and started the car and pulled onto the street.

“I’m not hungry,” she said. Not for food. She wriggled in her seat. “I’d rather go back to your place.”

“My place?” A squeak.

“Umm hmm.”

He was uncomfortable. Off balance. Good. She loved the feeling of power his reaction gave her. Her mind spun with the revelation that Jack was into Femdom. Not kind of into it. Not “sure I’ll try it if you want me to” into it. But into it.

The possibilities stampeded through her like a herd of rampaging elephants. Rampaging elephants in musth.

“Sara, don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” She bit back a smile.

“Like you’re famished.”

“I am.”

“You just said you’re not hungry.”

A Cheshire-cat grin. “I’m not.”

“Sara,” he gusted. “This is our second date. We can’t.”

“Fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “This date is over.”

He gaped at her and nearly hit another car. “What?”

“This date is over.”

“Do you…? Are you…? Do you want me to take you home?”

“No, silly.” She leaned closer and whispered in his ear, “I want you to take me on another date.”

His knuckles went white as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “O-okay.”

“Right now.”

Comprehension dawned. It rose in a red tide on his cheeks and peaked at the tip of his ears. His chin firmed with determination. He hit the gas and wove around several slow-moving cars into the fast lane.

Sara smiled and settled back in her seat, rocking into the panties again. Because she was getting laid, and soon.

It took way too long to get home.