Sweat Equity (13 page)

And miss Sara even more.

Chapter Ten

Sara leaned out onto the balcony rail and admired the view of Ann Arbor from Craig's condo. She smelled the steaks on the grill, heard him moving around inside, prepping everything else. She squirmed, uneasy, mad at herself. She intended to put a stop to this before it went any further, before she entangled him any deeper in her stupid melodrama.

She smiled at him as he approached with the wine bottle. Her friend. Her amazingly hot, blonde, tan, gorgeous, romantic, friend with an absolute proven ability to please. She was wet already watching him. Her heart fluttered.

As if reading her thoughts, he grabbed her hand and pulled her inside. Once they hit the kitchen, he spun her around so she was leaning against the huge granite island. He kissed her deeply, making her sigh with pleasure as she wound her arms around his neck, burying her hands in his hair.

Craig broke their contact and grabbed her around the waist to lift her onto the island. She smiled to herself as he unzipped her jeans and pulled them and her panties down and tossed them aside.

"Um, Craig, I think something is burning," she tapped him on the shoulder as he pulled her knees apart, headed towards her bare pussy.

"What," he muttered. "Oh, shit."

He left her to pull the potatoes out of the oven before they ruined. He flipped the oven off and walked the few steps back to where she sat perched on the island, naked from the waist down.

Stop, remember Sara? Don't take this any further. It's not fair, especially to him.

He smiled at her and leaned on the counter, running a finger from her lips, down her neck, to her t-shirt until he reached the bottom of it and lifted it up and over her head.

Oh, well, maybe after just one more time.

She giggled, mentally scolding herself, and raised her arms up so he could take it off, exposing her bare breasts and rock hard nipples.

"Nice," he said as he leaned in to take one in his mouth.

"Mmmmm, no, that's nice," she muttered as she wound her hands in his hair again. She pulled him around the corner of the island so he was once again between her legs and wrapped both legs around him to hold him close. He ran his hands through her hair and down her neck to her shoulders.

"God, you are just gorgeous, you know that," he said as he switched from one nipple to another. Her skin kept heating up, her clit throbbed by the time he let his lips and tongue draw a wet line from her breasts, down her stomach to her navel. She gasped at the sensation as he dipped his tongue in there, and then continued downwards as her hips began to move to give him better access.

He stood up suddenly and reached behind her to move the tray of bread aside.

"Lie back Sara, right here," he told her before he kissed her again, leaving her breathless. "I want you to come, right now," he stated as he pulled her hips towards his mouth.

She leaned back on her elbows and bent one knee up placing her foot on the chilly granite counter. She stared at him as he lunged up between her legs, moving towards her lips once more to caress her with his mouth and tongue.

Breaking their contact, he fluttered over her nipples and the pebbled skin of her stomach before finally settling himself between her legs.

"Oh, God," Sara cried out as her pussy contracted. "Wow, ahhh, Craig, don't stop." She propped both feet on his back as her body relaxed and her hips started thrusting against his mouth.

He broke his exquisite contact with her clit and licked his way downward, dipping his tongue in and out of her pussy. He made a satisfied sound deep in his throat, took a moment to lick and nibble the insides of each thigh. Sara was too close to orgasm to allow for a break from his lips and she put her hands on his head to guide him back to her center.

"Don't stop," she reminded him as she lay back fully onto the counter, her legs still around his shoulders.

He reached down to adjust his erection and complied. She raised her hips so he didn't have to crouch to reach her and gave in to the orgasm at it rolled over her, coating his lips with her passion. She shuddered, and Craig stood back up.

"Hey, you said you wanted me to come," she said, her eyes still closed, the granite starting to chill her back.

Craig watched her willing his erection down. He wanted this to be a slow night of pleasure and that meant waiting on his part. His plan to drive "friends," "benefits," and most especially "Jack Gordon" out of her mind and life forever had shifted into overdrive.

"So let's eat," he stated and started to grab her hand to pull her up.

"Wait, wait, let me just lie here a minute," she muttered and leaned back on her elbows to watch him. "You know what, I think it's your turn lover boy," she said, her eyes hooded. She smiled at him and licked her lips. "Take it out."

Craig raised an eyebrow at her. She looked devastating, lying there on the kitchen island, completely naked, one leg still bent at the knee, the other swinging in anticipation. His cock stiffened to the point of near pain. He sighed and realized that he would not be the one in control tonight, or very possibly, ever.

He released his aching shaft from its denim bondage. Keeping their distance, he started to rub himself from base to tip eyes fixed on hers.

"Nice," she muttered. "Keep going. Like you mean it."

His hand took on a familiar rhythm, and he took a step back to lean against the wall to brace himself. He'd give her a show if she wanted, but he got to watch too.

"Touch yourself, Sara," he said from across the room. "Show me."

Her finger started to trace her still sensitive clit and down to her wet lips. She climbed down and started towards him.

"No," he held a hand up and stood up straighter. "Stay there. Show me more." She wasn't the only one who got to make the rules, he thought as he brought his hand back to his own cock.

She shrugged and leaned back again, still propped on one elbow, her other hand starting to rub at her clit more urgently, as she watched him resume his own hand job.

Craig settled back against the wall again, and watched her–watched her incredible pussy pulse and throb as he rubbed his own fluid up and down his length. He imagined her enveloping him, felt that pussy he was watching across the room taking him in, holding him tight in its velvet vise and he increased his hand speed. He sensed the comfortable, familiar surge of energy and blood as his orgasm approached.

He groaned when she leaned up and plunged her fingers into herself, felt a familiar tingling at the base of his spine, the release quick, urgent and satisfying.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them and stared at her, his hand still wrapped around himself. She smiled and jumped down from the island, covered the distance between them in two steps and pressed her lips over his.

"Mmm," he muttered when she ended their kiss before he said something stupid, something that gave away how much his chest constricted when he held her close. "Fun. But now I'm really hungry," he grinned at her, pushed his hair up off his forehead and tucked his cock back inside his jeans. "Need a new shirt though," he laughed and pulled the cum-stained one off, heading into the bedroom.

He hesitated for a minute, and stared in the mirror on the wall of his bedroom, reminding himself to take it easy, not to get too attached to her. He knew she had a long way to go before Gordon was out of her system and that her brave words about "just needing a friend" might be true now, but he had plans to change that, ones that required patience on his part. He squared his shoulders and walked back out into the living room and into the kitchen. She leaned against the island where she'd just recently climaxed all over his face, sipping her wine. His skin prickled and he had to bite his tongue to keep from picking her up her up and carrying her into the bedroom.

"Yo. You letting the steaks burn or what?" He hollered, grabbing a beer and fixing a smile on his face.

"Raw food takes one look at me and burns, and I do not mean that as a compliment. I am a rotten cook, hate the thought of it, and rely heavily on the men in my life to keep me from starving to death." She tossed over her shoulder before going out on the patio to poke at the slabs of beef he'd laid on the grill, wine glass still in hand. By the time he reached her, tears streamed down her face.

"Whoa, whoa there, sweets. You forget my rule already? Craig does not make girls cry." He put an arm around her shoulder, and acknowledged that this whole thing might be harder than he thought.

****

Sara lay awake, listening to the night sounds of Craig's condo, including the deep inhale and exhale of the man next to her. She put a hand over her eyes.

You are such a shit. You said you wouldn't do this to him. God!

She sat, holding the soft blanket to her breasts, breathing shallow.

No need to panic. Wake him up and tell him. Tell him you are leaving and never coming back. Do it now Sara, before it's too late.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back down into the warm nest of bedding. She smelled his cologne, the pool, their combined passion when he pulled her close from behind.    "Lie down. I've got you." She closed her eyes, allowed herself a minute of calm before easing out from under his arm. He propped himself on an elbow and blinked in the light of the bedside lamp. "What time is it?" He rolled onto his back, his near perfect, slim, naked form exposed, his cock stirring to attention again. She bit her lip.

"It's around four I think. I gotta go." She yanked her jeans on, shoved her arms into her tee shirt, fury rising at her own stupid behavior. He simply watched her, arms behind his head. Finally, after a few minutes of silence she stuck her feet into sandals and stared at him.

Speak Sara. You owe it to him
.

"Look, Craig, I'm not…" She held up a hand as he started to get out of bed. "No, don't."

"Gotta take a leak, sorry. I'm listening." She rolled her eyes and sunk into a large leather chair. He emerged from the bathroom, drying his hands, dressed in a pair of soft shorts. He sat at the end of the bed, elbows on knees and gazed at her.

She took a deep breath. "I'm not who you need me to be right now."

He raised an eyebrow. "It was my understanding that you were my friend. Are you not that anymore?" She sighed and rubbed her eyes.

"No. I mean, yes. I am your friend, but, this," she made a circling motion with her finger. "All this between us now has to stop."

"Why? You don't like it?" He leaned back on the bed, propped a foot on the bed. She frowned at him.

"Don't ask me rhetorical questions. You know I like it. That's not the issue." She stood. "I'm gonna head home."

He stood, put a hand on her arm, his touch firm and confident. "Don't go." She stared down at his arm then into his eyes before pulling out of his grip. She had a hand on the cold chrome door handle when he spoke, making her heart leap into her throat. "You are seriously going to let him keep you from finding happiness aren't you?"

She clenched her jaw, turned slowly and leaned back against door, staring at him. He stood across the dimly lit room. Odors of grilled meat, exhaust from the street below, and the ever-present chlorine filled her senses. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? You think you have me figured out, do you? Got all the answers I need?"

He shrugged, crossed his arms over his bare chest. "No, I never said that. Don't put words in my mouth."

She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. The need to escape overwhelmed her. She couldn't face this right now. Her head pounded from all the turmoil.

"Go on. I'll catch you later." He threw up his hands and started back into the bedroom.

"No, Craig, wait. I'm sorry. You don't deserve all my bullshit. That's why I'm leaving. Can't you get that?" He stopped, put both hands on the doorjamb and hung his head.

"Fine, Sara. Then go. Spare me all your bullshit. Thanks in advance." Without looking back, he went into the bedroom and shut the door.

Chapter Eleven

"So, where is he, this Prince Charming," Rob asked. "Blake is walking around making wedding plans and shit, so I guess I need to meet him."

Sara shot Blake a glance. He shrugged. She stifled her impulse to smack him and confront him with his own relationship problems. She didn't want to cause a scene but he'd be hearing from her about it very soon. Besides, she had her own issues, as usual.

"He's not coming. And he's just a friend anyway so cool your matrimonial jets."

"Really? I thought that was him over there." Blake jerked his chin towards the door. It didn't escape her notice that he and Rob stayed on opposite sides of the bar, and wouldn't meet each other eyes.

She felt Craig's hands on her shoulders before she had a chance to turn and see him. She tensed a moment, then relaxed and smiled at him. He leaned in to brush her lips with his.

"Hi guys. I'm Craig, Sara's friend." He stuck out his hand.

"That's right Rob. We are friends. So keep commentary to a minimum please."