Floor Time by Liz Crowe Read Free Book Online Page B

anywhere, dinner, dancing, whatever she wanted. The sight of her in unselfconsciously sexy denim and cotton, hair unruly, sans any makeup, eyes bright and obviously eager to see him -- had smacked him in square in the libido. He licked his lips in the car's dark interior.
     
    The chemical spark that passed between them when she took the innocuous excuse of a document had caught Jack off guard. He thrived on raw sexual energy. He'd spent years enjoying the company of as many different women as possible -- as teacher and student. But this? This was something completely new to him. The ever-present hum of erotic energy running through him lately revved, and his brain filled with images of them together, of her on her knees eyes cast down. His hands shook as he readjusted them on the wheel.
     
    What was it about this chick anyway? She was hot, no doubt -- tight ass, firm body, light brown, mid length hair that he could still feel between his fingers. And those absolutely incredible eyes. Unlike many men, he had no preference: blondes, redheads, brunettes, made no difference. He tended to be drawn to women on the thinner side or at least ones that cared about their bodies enough to exercise every now and then, which she clearly did.
     
    It had been nearly a year since he first saw her -- really saw her -- when she walked out of that penthouse condo, wearing that fine, just-fucked look on her lovely face. A solid year and his obsession with her had only increased. Usually, when a woman proved to be inaccessible he moved on to the next one. Not this time.
     
    The evening hadn't gone at all like he had planned. Figuring she'd be dressed for work and would want to go out he had come straight from his own office, and had the night planned from start to finish, not really anticipating his need to take her, right then and there. Something about her had forced him closer, only for a taste. Of course, he'd gotten a lot more than that. Her meeting his need halfway only served to ramp up his urge to take, to own, up against the wall like an animal.          
     
    Her early hesitation and shyness reinforced what his research had predicted. The lovely woman had gone a while without a man's touch. It had only made him want her even more. The usual, smug, self-satisfied feeling eluded him and it pissed him off. That coupled with the twitchy need to have her again, to make her beg for him, made him embarrassed and horny in equal measure.
     
    Shit. What the hell, Gordon?
     
    Jack ran a hand through his hair. He sensed she still had pent up energy. He wanted to release it; wanted more than anything to prove he was the man to do it. But he'd be damned if, for the first time in years, he hadn't let himself go. Allowed himself orgasm without consciously keeping his distance. When she had reached up to capture his lips at the last moment, he hadn't even tried to resist. He'd wanted to be completely aware of her as he shared the ultimate connection; her scent, her hair, her lips. It was as if she knew he normally resisted contact at that moment. He had clutched her ass with one hand and relished the firm feel of her skin and muscle underneath as her amazing walls continued to spasm and contract along the length and width of him. It hit him hard, in his gut and between the eyes, not only in his cock.
     
    When she'd gotten embarrassed again after they were done, he'd had to move away from her, or risk acting like a sap. She had looked devastating -- her hair disheveled in the back, her color high, and her lips swollen from his kisses. It was one of his favorite looks on a woman -- the "Well Fucked by Jack Gordon" face. He knew it well. He would gladly have picked her up and plunked her down on the floor and given it to her again and again to get that connected feeling back. It warred inside him, the need to possess and please, to control and satisfy, all at once.
     
    He shook his head once again as he pulled into the parking lot outside