by Vivian Arend
Precious, fragile—not her, but the moment. So Ford nodded. “I’ll take it if you want to give it to me. But I don’t need it, Mia.”
“Maybe only sometimes.” She traced her fingertips up his arm, ghosting along his throat and jaw before touching his lips. “Maybe tonight. This is the fantasy I never dared have.”
Then he’d give her one she wouldn’t forget. He drew her shirt up higher, lingering over the fullness of her breasts, rubbing the satiny fabric over the tight peaks of her nipples.
Her breath caught, eyelids fluttering shut as she lifted her arms. “What do you need?”
The words came without thought. “Tonight,” he whispered. “Let me show you.”
“Anything.” She shivered as he stripped her shirt away, but not with nerves. When her gaze met his again, he saw only hunger and need. “God, Derek. Everything. I want you to show me everything.”
All the things she’d been missing. Ford seized one lock of hair and teased it over her bare shoulder. “It could take a while.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” She tilted her head to the side, practically begging him to move his caress up the side of her neck. “I think I like Sector Four.”
Good. He didn’t say it aloud. She was flying high on the seductive lure of the O’Kane lifestyle, not to mention her first real taste of freedom, and only an asshole would take advantage of that to lock her in to something permanent.
But he could still fulfill her fantasy—ownership without begrudging lust or regret. Without punishment. So instead of tickling her hair up the delicate line of her throat, he leaned in and bit her.
She moaned. Swayed. Her hands flew up to grasp his shoulders, fingers digging in desperately. “Oh God, I like that, too.”
“Uh-huh.” He licked a path up to her ear and bit her again.
Another moan. Her grip tightened until his shirt seemed in danger of ripping. “How many places are you going to bite before you’re inside me?”
“You want me to keep count?”
“Maybe.” She shifted one hand to his belt, tugging at the leather, fumbling to get it open. “I don’t know, I just—I want.”
He locked his fingers around her wrist. “Mia, look at me.”
Shivering, she lifted her gaze.
She was spinning, reaching out for anything that would calm her nerves, but only one thing would work. “Trust me.”
“I do,” she whispered. “But it’s the first time. And it shouldn’t be a big deal, because I’m not innocent. But they made it one. They made it the only thing about me that matters, and sometimes I just want it over with.”
He stared at her for a moment before he realized what she was talking about. “Honey, getting a dick inside you is only part of sex, not all of it.”
“I know,” she protested, but then she let her head fall forward, burying her face in his chest with a groan. “I knew. I let them get to me. And then I let you get to me. I can’t stop thinking about your dick.”
He might have laughed, if his dick hadn’t taken such a keen interest in her admiration. He reached for the button on her pants and backed her toward the bed. “In good time, buttercup.”
“I trust you.” It sounded stronger this time, like an offer instead of a reassurance. She helped him strip away her pants before resting one knee on the bed. “Is this where you want me?”
“Stop.” He stepped up behind her. She was wearing tiny black panties edged with a hint of lace, and he eased his hand beneath them to rest on her bare hip. “Stop asking, stop talking. Just stop.”
She went still. Nodded.
He turned her around and tugged his shirt over his head. Then he held her gaze as he dropped his hands to his belt and unbuckled it. Silence stretched out between them, broken only by ragged breathing and her gasp when he pulled her fingers to the top button of his jeans.
She didn’t fumble this time. She went slowly, working the buttons free one at a time, her eyes never leaving his. When she was done, he captured her wrists again, eased her down to the bed, and finished undressing.
Her gaze skittered away from him, nervous and uncertain, because watching was new. She’d always been the object of lust, never the one allowed to indulge. But after a few heartbeats of hesitation she clutched at the covers and looked straight at him, eyes meeting his for a grateful moment before her focus wandered.
She stared at his chest. Lingered on his shoulders. She spent forever working her way down his arm to his hand, but from there her gaze swept straight to his cock.
And stayed.
His cock jumped as blood roared in his ears. “So hungry,” he murmured. “Time to stop asking, Mia, and start taking.”
She parted her lips, but instead of speaking, she caught the lower one between her teeth. It took forever for her to rise to her knees, to inch to the edge of the bed, until she could reach out and trace her fingertips over his chest.
Her fingers followed the outline of his tattoo, her touch a teasing graze that grew bolder as she drifted down. She spread her hand wide against his abdomen with a wondering smile. “You’re going to make me greedy.”
That smile hit him in the gut. “You should be. Who the hell wants to be delicate and shy about sex?”
“No one,” she whispered, and closed her hand around his cock.
Heat sizzled up his spine as she stroked him—once, twice—and then dropped her gaze, her lip trapped between her teeth again as she watched her hand smooth back down to the base of his shaft. “This is what I can’t stop thinking about. How big you’ll feel inside me.”
“We’ll go slow.” Or not, if her passion conquered the discomfort. She might beg him to go faster, to give her more, and that was the thought that drove him to the bed.
He pushed her back and stretched out beside her, toying with the edge of her panties as he wound his other hand in her hair. She arched, dropping one trembling hand to cover his. But only for a moment, because this time she didn’t ask.
She took.
Her hand slipped past his, under the fabric of her panties, and she met his eyes with her first soft moan.
Ford groaned. “That’s right.” He pulled her panties down, baring her fingers and her pussy to his sight. “Take it, sweetheart.”
Her eyes fluttered shut as she lifted her chin, digging her head back into the blankets. She opened her legs, giving him a better view as she spread her fingers to part her pussy lips. Her middle finger swept in a lazy circle, up and down, around and around, close enough to her clit to make her squirm but never quite touching.
She liked the tease. Ford hummed his approval and nipped at the soft skin beneath her chin. “Faster,” he whispered.
Moaning, she dipped her finger lower, rocking it into her body before coming back to touch the slick fingertip to her clit. Her breath hissed out, and she shook her head. “It’s too good.”
“Yeah?” He shifted on the bed, easing down to drop his next gentle bite to her hip.
Her fingers froze, and she shuddered. “Make me feel it.” Not a command but a plea, and she was practically begging as she shoved at the fabric tangled around her hips. “I’ll run from the pleasure if you let me. Don’t let me.”
“Shh.” He guided her panties down her mile-long legs and settled between them as he smoothed his hands back up to her thighs. “That’s the only way I know how to do this, Mia. Nothing held back.”
“Nothing held back,” she echoed, letting her arms fall to her sides. “I took what I wanted. Now let me take what you want.”
“Don’t move,” he warned, holding her open with his fingers as his breath blew across her slick flesh. Then, before she could respond, he circled her clit with his tongue—close, but not quite touching, just the way she’d touched herself at first.
She didn’t move—not really—but she squirmed. Her thighs tensed against his shoulders and she dragged in a ragged breath. “Yes. Yes.”
He grazed her clit with the rough pad of his thumb, then soothed it with hi
s tongue.
That made her move. She whimpered and jerked her hips, as if trying to escape the contact. Ford held her still for one more direct caress, then lapsed into lazy exploration.
Her squirming subsided, but her noises didn’t. Soft at first, just breathy sighs and the occasional moan. She seemed content to float on pleasure for a while, but the tension returned to her body when he maintained an easy pace.
She tried to move again then, toward him this time, and she bit off a muttered curse when he stopped her. “Derek.”
“Not yet.” She was wet but tight, so tight that even one finger stretched her when he pushed it slowly inside.
“Oh, God.” Her fingers tangled in his hair, yanking as her body clenched around him. “Even your fingers are big. I love them.”
Hot, impossibly hot. “Not as big as my cock.” Somehow he knew she’d melt around him then, too, when he was over her, pressing her down into the mattress, sliding into her for the first time.
“I know, God, I know...” She rocked up, forcing his finger deeper. “I’ve imagined it. The first night I met you, I went home and imagined you.”
Ford groaned again and froze, stilling his hand as he looked up at her. “Tell me.”
“You offered to take out your dick right there in the office.” She laughed breathlessly, tugging at his hair. “I closed my eyes and pretended you had. Men have jerked off because of me before, but never for me. In my fantasy, you did it just for me.”
“You like that idea?” He withdrew from her slowly, bit by bit, and gave her two fingers this time in a teasing thrust that barely breached her entrance.
“Yes,” she hissed, and it could have been an answer or sheer relief. She pulled at his hair again, lifting her hips with a pleading noise. On edge now, her pussy gripping his fingers, drawing them deeper.
So Ford gave her what she wanted, a slow, inexorable invasion with just enough time to adjust, but not enough to flinch away. Not that she was trying anymore—every slip in her restraint brought her closer, taking everything he offered and begging for more.
After the first whimper, he lowered his mouth—lashing his tongue over her clit, fucking her with his fingers—and listened to her cries begin to rise.
Mia was flying apart.
Ford was crude. He was brazen. He had two big, blunt fingers pumping into her body, working her open, and it was the sound—slick and hot and shameless—that made her want to fling her hands over her burning cheeks.
She’d never been this wet before. She’d never been this far past caring about anything but release, and still Ford strung her along, twisting his fingers until they went from too big to not enough, swiping his tongue over again and again but never lingering, never giving her what she needed to soar.
“More,” she moaned.
“More of what, sweetheart?” His voice had dropped to a growl, and he flicked his tongue over her again. “More of that? Or more of this?” He withdrew his fingers only to return immediately with another, three blunt fingers stretching her wide.
It hurt, but only a little, and even that vanished under another rush of frustrated need. He could have made her come a dozen times by now, but he was playing her body. Coaxing her into a state of such desperation that nerves and discomfort and anxiety didn’t exist.
Pleasure did. This sweet agony of hanging just short of orgasm. She clutched at his head with both hands now, chanting his name and pleas as she tried to get closer to his tongue, but he was unshakable. Nothing about this moment and what was to come rested on her actions, and that was the most dizzying realization of all.
She didn’t have to manage this. It was all for her.
He growled again, his mouth on her, and this time the sound vibrated through her, shivering across every overstimulated nerve.
So close. So close. Every muscle in her body knew it, and it had to be instinct, some ancient fucking wisdom imparted in her cells because nothing in her life or training had prepared her to feel so open, so ready, so hot and hungry.
Her body knew. Everything twisted inward, tensing for a heartbeat that stretched on for a lifetime.
Then he curled his fingers inside her, and she really did fly apart.
She fell forever. This wasn’t some quiet orgasm, release slipping over with the gentleness of her own touch. Ford hadn’t been gentle. He’d pushed her hard, worked her over, dragging her through a frustration she never would have had the patience to inflict upon herself, which was a pity because the reward—
Oh God, the reward. Everything shuddered and pulsed, her pussy clenching tight, forcing her to feel the broad fingers still stroking into her, still coaxing. And that was another way she’d been failing herself, because her focus waned with release.
His didn’t.
She didn’t just come. She kept coming, driven on by his growls and his tongue and the fingers that refused to relent. Not even when she panted his name and tried to squirm away, because it was too much, too good, and she hadn’t worked for this, hadn’t earned it—
Make me feel it, she had pleaded, and he did, and she loved him a little bit for it.
No wonder blowjobs made men so stupid.
He bit her again, a rough, bruising caress on her inner thigh. “You’re fucking beautiful.”
The kiss of pain licked up her spine, splitting the overwhelming press of bliss into manageable pieces. Still panting, she pulled weakly at his hair, trying to urge him up her body. “Be in me. I want you in me.”
Ford loomed over her, his eyes dark, his muscles tense and trembling. “Now?” he asked, his voice deadly quiet as he flexed his hips, nudging her with his erection.
It would hurt, but she needed it. Needed him, and it wasn’t about symbolic virginity or the need to be rid of it, not anymore. It was about the empty ache where his fingers had been and the need to see her dazed pleasure reflected in his eyes.
She slid her hands down his body, over his broad shoulders, his smooth back, to his hips, where she dug her fingers into his skin and pulled him closer. “Do you want me to say it like an O’Kane would? Take me, Ford. Fuck me.”
He shifted, and the head of his cock pushed against her entrance. He lifted his thumb to her lips. “Say it again.”
His skin tasted like her. She licked him. Shivered. She could already imagine him surging inside her, plunging so deep she’d feel him for days. “Fuck me, Derek. Pl—”
He cut her off with a kiss—and a slow, unyielding thrust.
She expected pain, braced for it. But she was so wet, still melting from his fingers, so close to ready. Her body stretched to accommodate him, welcoming him as he worked deeper and deeper—
And deeper.
And deeper.
The stretch became an ache, became something sharper still, and she whimpered against his mouth, her confidence momentarily shaken. She was already so full, she couldn’t take more, no matter how much she wanted him. He was too big, too much, too everything.
And then he was fully seated, still, his panting breaths his only movement. He licked her tongue, swallowed her whimper, and raised his head. “Okay?”
Poor Ford. He looked like he was the one in agony, and she knew he must be. If he felt impossibly big to her, her body must be impossibly tight, clenching hot and wet around him. But he hovered above her, muscles standing out in stark, tense relief, every bit of focus fixed on her.
Ford would hurt himself before he hurt her, so she dug her nails into his back and lifted her hips with a moan. “I will be when you’re fucking me.”
His breath caught. “You won’t be thinking that for long if I don’t give you a minute here, trust me.”
She could tell him she’d been trained for this. Trained to compartmentalize the pain, to show only the flattering bits—oh, you’re so big, I can’t take you, no wait, I think I like it, fuck me harder—but it would have been a lie.
She’d been trained to fake it, not to feel it. She couldn’t break down these sensations and shove them i
nto neat, contained boxes. The pain was part of the pleasure, the pleasure part of the pain.
She wanted them both, messy and real, so she flexed her fingers again. “Trust me. I’ll tell you if it’s too much, I promise. But let me take this. Let me take you.”
Ford gave in, every muscle flexing as he thrust against her, and any hope of containment slipped away. Because pleasure and pain could be managed, but the intimacy of staring up into his face as the grip of her body tore away his restraint...
She’d wrecked him. Not by plying him with fancy tricks, not by withholding or granting favors. She’d offered him control, and had taken something deeper in exchange, something she didn’t have a word for but could see plainly in his eyes as he rolled forward again.
It drove a gasp from her lips. Surprise, because the places that had ached were doing something else now, heating up with the friction of his thrusts. It made her want more, made her arch and strain into him, breathlessly anticipating that moment where he slammed deep and something wild sparked inside her.
He did it again, harder this time, and threw his head back with a curse. “Fuck. Fuck.”
She would have echoed him if she’d had the breath to, but that spark had flared briefly into flame, and she needed it again. Needed it or she’d die, so she whimpered and pulled at him, trying to urge him to go faster. Harder. Something.
“Don’t want to hurt you—” He snarled and rolled over onto his back, bringing her on top of him. He locked his hands around her rib cage and urged her upright. “Like this.”
Her knees splayed wide, falling to the mattress on either side of his body, and gravity did the rest. She cried out as his cock drove even deeper, grasping at his forearms as he steadied her. “Oh, oh fuck.”
Ford dropped his hands to her hips and lifted her just a little. “Easy, love. Easy.”
“Derek.” His grip was steel, refusing to let her sink back down, and she smacked her palms to his chest and gave him a warning taste of her nails. “I don’t want easy. I want to feel you.”