Page 50 of Making Over Maris

“Close.” So close. Too close. It had been far too long since a woman had touched him like this. And that it was Sara—with her hand on his cock, threatening to make him come—was nearly more than he could bear.

“Stand up, Jack.”

“I can’t.”

“Do it,” she snapped.

He couldn’t refuse. He couldn’t disobey. Not with the way she was looking at him. Not when she said those words like that, laced with a delicious thread of command.

Water sluiced from him as he stood. She licked her lips as though what she saw made her hungry.

“Pull down your trunks.”

God. She was right there. At cock level. “Sara—”

“Do it.”

He did. His cock sprang free, heavy and hard and maybe a little angry.

“Oh. Jack,” she moaned.

This time when she touched him, it was skin-to-skin. He closed his eyes as she fisted him. He threw his head back and clenched his ass and tried desperately not to explode right then and there.

Pleasure, delight, bliss, agony scoured his consciousness as she made the journey from the base of his cock to the head with a tight grip.

His lids flew open as her warm breath kissed the tip—this he had to watch. Her tongue dabbed at the slit. And then, holy God, she encased him. Her lips enrobed his cock and she sucked.

He whimpered.

It was so sweet. So fucking sweet he couldn’t see straight. And he wanted to see straight. He wanted this memory fucking burned onto his brain.

Her lips stretched around him. Cheeks slightly hollowed as she sucked. Her head moving slowly up and down, drawing insanity and bliss upon him with a relentlessness that curled his toes.

When she cupped his balls and gently rolled them, he almost lost consciousness.

“Sara…”

Her finger scraped the crease of his ass, all the way to his tender pucker. She nudged him.

“Oh, God.” A hot snake slithered through him. The urge, the stultifying need to come racked him.

She glanced up. Smiled. “Do you like this?”

“Yes. Oh. Yes.”

She pumped him. “Do you want to come?”

“Sara—”

“Because I want to taste you.” To prove her point, she drew him in again, tormenting him with excruciating sucks, nibbles and quick, short strokes. Madness rose. He fought it back. He didn’t want to come like this. He wanted to be inside her. He wanted to fuck—

“Oh, God.”

Her finger plunged into his ass and he was lost. Cum screamed through him, from him, exploding in a hot rush of exquisite release. And she took it all. Swallowed it. Jet after jet, murmuring and moaning as he emptied into her.

Even when he was done, even when he was bone-dry, she continued to milk him. Until he broke away—panting as if he’d run a marathon—and collapsed with a splash into his seat. He grabbed her and pulled her close, unwilling for this to end. Even now.

She nuzzled his neck. “Mmm.”

He couldn’t respond. He had nothing left. No cum. No cogent thoughts. No words. Not even a groan. She had it all.

She seemed to understand. She held him as his heartbeat returned to normal, as he found his bearings.

“Was that good?”

He hated the uncertainty in her voice. How could she not know? He kissed her forehead. Licked at the droplets of water and sweat clinging to the wispy strands of silk on her hairline. “So good. So, so fucking good.”

She chuckled and bussed the corner of his mouth.

“Why are you laughing?”

Her smile widened. “Because, silly. Now you don’t have to worry about the alkalinity.”

He couldn’t help it. The impish expression in her eyes, his bone-deep elation, the fact that that had just happened… He threw back his head and laughed as well.