Swear (Landry Family #4)

by Adriana Locke

  “Just kinda hot? Damn. You’re a tough sell.”

  “It’s like real estate,” she says, her voice lowering just a touch. “It’s all about the comps.”

  “What are you comparing me to?”

  She eyes me with an impish grin. “Maybe I’m comparing you . . . to you.”

  My pants all of a sudden feel too tight as her gaze heats my blood and it pools in my cock.

  “So I’m hotter now than I was at seventeen? I’ll take that,” I tell her.

  “You are definitely hotter now than you were then,” she says, looking me straight in the eye.

  I grasp her hand again. Instead of putting it back on my leg, I rest it on my lap.

  Her chin lifts ever-so-slightly and I know she feels how much I’m dying for her right now. Without breaking our gaze, she presses her hand against me. The pressure she applies is just enough of a taunt that my teeth grind together as I attempt to keep myself from throwing her backwards and fucking the daylights out of her.

  “I say we have two choices right about now,” I say as she begins to press slow, torturous circles against my throbbing length.

  “What’s that?”

  “We can get off this couch right now and go to dinner.”

  “Or?”

  “Or we can get off on this couch right now and you can be dinner.”

  Ellie

  “Option number two, please.”

  I can’t believe I just said that.

  Before I can open my mouth to try to take it back, I’m on my back on the floor.

  “Ah!” I shriek, my giggle a little wobbly from the sudden movement. “Ford!”

  He wedges himself between my legs, planting his hands on either side of my face. He looks down at me with a wicked smile.

  All thoughts of not being in this position right now is gone. Even if I wanted to tell him I didn’t mean it, I couldn’t. My libido has officially taken over and as I look into his eyes and feel his thickness bulging from his pants, I’m good where I am.

  I make a point of lifting each leg and wrapping it firmly around his waist, locking my heels together at the dip of his back. The purposeful movement is as much for me as it is for him. It lets us both know I’m all-in. At least for now. At least for this.

  “If this goes an inch farther, it’s on. I’m warning you,” he grins.

  “You have a window of opportunity here,” I whisper, winding my hands in his hair. It’s silky and soft, and I gently tug a handful of it so his face lifts to me. “Take it. Or leave it.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he grins.

  His head dips slowly until his lips are hovering over mine. I wait one, two, three seconds until I can’t take it anymore. Lifting my chin, I brush my mouth against his and I know what he means by, “It’s on.”

  An urgency is just below the surface. His struggle, as real as mine, to keep this under control is a losing endeavor. His tongue licks a long swipe against my mouth, and as I moan, his volleys against mine.

  His breath is hot, his skin smooth as I drag my hands down the side of his face and cup his cheeks in my palms. The curve of his jaw is masculine, almost sharp, as it rests against my fingertips.

  As he kisses me senseless, I roam his body—down his neck, across his shoulders, down his sinewy, muscled sides. Tugging on his shirt, I bring it up far enough to get my hands on his back. Traversing his body, it’s like rediscovering a road you once traveled all the time, only to find all the dips a little deeper, the bends a little sharper. The body a whole lot sexier.

  “Ford,” I moan against his lips as he rocks his hips forward. His cock presses against me, solid as a piece of steel. My entire body hums, begging for him to touch me. Caress me. Make love to me. I’m so keyed up I can’t think. I can’t hear. I can’t do anything but feel for the first time in forever.

  He breaks the kiss, but goes back in and kisses me once more. Then another time. Then a fourth. By the fifth kiss, I’m giggling. When he pulls back, his eyes are shining. “I could kiss you all night.”

  “I hope you do,” I say, fumbling at the buttons of his pants. “But can we do that without these?”

  He does a push-up and on the up-swing, pops up to his feet. Standing over me, he looks even taller, wider, than he really is. “Up.” He reaches for my hand and pulls me to my feet.

  Lifting the hem of my shirt, he drags it over my head. I’m left standing in front of him in a nude-colored lace bra and a pair of leggings. My thighs press together in a failed attempt to stop the ache pulsing so hard, begging for attention, that it’s almost all I can concentrate on.

  “Damn,” he whistles. He takes a step back and looks me up and down, his gaze like fire as it skims my body. “You are beyond gorgeous.”

  “Your turn,” I say, motioning to his shirt. “Off with it.”

  He sheds the fabric in a second and discards it to the side next to mine. His body is like looking at a magazine cover for men’s health. His shoulders are broad, tapering down to a narrow waist. His abs are cut into perfect squares with long, lean lines running down the sides. My fingers itch to touch him, drag my nails down his tanned skin and feel the smoothness of his powerful body.

  Right before I do, I see a small tattoo vertical down his right side. It’s a rifle with a combat helmet on top. Winding around it are three little red flowers. When I look at him, he swallows.

  “I had three buddies killed overseas. That’s for them.”

  “What about that one?” I point towards a line of script going from his front to his back around his left ribs. “Who you are and whose you are” is etched in elegant script in his skin.

  “It’s something my grandma used to say. I got it as a reminder to remember who I am in the scheme of things and where I belong. I thought it was stupid back then, but now, I get it.”

  “Where do you belong now?” I husk.

  He closes the distance between us, his eyes burning a hole in me. “Right fucking here.”

  As my breathing picks up, his follows suit. As his fists begin to clench, my hands start to move as well. He closes the final few centimeters with barely a move and his thumbs dig into my hips.

  It’s like a button has been pressed.

  He slides the fabric down my legs, his palms flat against me as he goes down. Chills creep up in the wake as I watch him drop to his knees. He lifts one leg, pulls the leggings off, and then moves to the other. As he stands, his fingertips trail up my body as if he’s afraid to break contact.

  I grab the front belt loops of his pants and yank him towards me. He smiles. The latch is unfastened and the zipper lowered in a few quick seconds. He steps out of his pants and green boxer briefs as I unfasten my bra and discard it to the side.

  Only now do I see him in all his glory—chiseled, carved, and cut to absolute precision. His cock is long, the head of it swollen, as it waits at attention.

  My pussy pulses, wetness dampening my thighs. I’m tempted to reach down and relieve some of the pressure myself, but I’m afraid to move. A sheen of sweat dots Ford’s body as he narrows his eyes.

  “Come here,” he orders.

  His arms extend to the sides and I step into his personal space. He wraps me up, locking his hands at the small of my back, and kisses me again. I let my arms dangle off his shoulders and embrace the feeling of being encompassed by Ford.

  His hands glide over the top of my butt and cup the underside of each cheek. I’m lifted up, and instinctively, I wind my legs around his waist. I grab his cock in my fist and pump it a few times. Ford’s eyes roll back in his head as he rewards me with a growl.

  “Does that feel good?” I ask, knowing damn good and well it does.

  “Not as good as this is going to feel.” He drops to his knees, making me yelp at the sudden change in position. I hang on to his neck as he leans forward, dropping me carefully onto my back.

  As I settle back onto the floor, I’m met with a look from him that makes me almost combust.

  The side of his lip
curls into a mischievous grin, the blues of his eyes looking deeper, darker as he hovers over me.

  I think he’s going to kiss me, but he doesn’t. Instead, his lips find the side of my face. He trails a set of kisses from my cheek, across my jaw, and to my ear. Then he goes down my neck, drawing his tongue down my skin and then blowing on the wetness left behind.

  I shiver, lifting my hips towards him.

  A low chuckle rumbles from his chest as he continues his kisses and licks over my breasts.

  His assault is heavenly. He treats my body like it’s a temple to be worshipped. Unrushed. Leisurely showing me how much he’s enjoying this.

  Propping back up so he’s looking down at me, he smiles. “God, you’re beautiful.”

  “You’re going to make me blush,” I giggle.

  “I want to make you blush. And smile. And giggle like that. It’s the best sound I’ve ever fucking heard. Well, maybe it is. There’s one I’d like to compare it to.”

  He maneuvers himself so that his length sits at my opening. I can feel the head of his cock teasing me, promising to split me in two.

  “Please,” I beg, letting my knees fall to the side.

  “Please what?”

  “Please fuck me.”

  He looks pleasantly startled. “I wasn’t expecting such a dirty mouth on such a pretty girl,” he jokes. “But I’d love to fuck you.” He moves his hips so his cock dips just a little farther into me. “How hard do you want it?”

  “Hard enough that I can’t think of anything but you in the morning.”

  “Baby,” he grins, “if I have my way, we’ll still be doing it in the morning.”

  My response doesn’t come fast enough. Any thoughts I had are pushed away by the sensation of him sliding inside me. It’s a slow, sensual thrust, an inch of his rock-hard cock at a time gliding through my wetness.

  His eyes are locked on mine, but I can’t keep them open. If I do, I think they’ll pop out from the surge of pressure vibrating through every piece of me.

  Tilting my hips upward to meet his, he finally hits the back. Instead of pulling back and restarting the descent, he pauses. My body is full to the brim, stretched to a point that it’s almost, but not quite, uncomfortable.

  I exhale a breath and open my eyes. He’s still watching me.

  “Does that feel okay? You’re so tight, sweetheart,” he says quietly.

  “It feels incredible,” I tell him. I cup his face in my hands and lose myself in his eyes. “Move. Please.”

  He pulls back in the same, slow way he entered me before rocking his hips forward and filling me once more. With every push, then pull, I’m built higher and higher.

  He moves from kissing me to caressing my breasts to kissing me again. My ankles lock behind his waist once more. He lifts my ass so that my shoulder blades are all that is touching the floor. His fingers dig into my hips, searing the flesh in the best possible way, as he guides my body on and off of his cock.

  I feel the burn in my core, the flame taking on a life of its own. It spreads through my thighs, down my legs, through my stomach and up, up, up to my face.

  “Ford,” I cry out, meeting him thrust for thrust, “I’m going to come. I can’t take this much longer. Ah!”

  He slams into me harder, the head of his dick pounding the back of my vagina. It’s relentless. Unyielding. And absolutely wonderful.

  “Ford!” I almost scream as streaks of color swim over my vision. The flames inside me burn like a raging wildfire, and before I can say another word, an orgasm tears through me without warning.

  My legs stiffen as I’m assaulted with the hardest, most spectacular climax of my life. My teeth clench, my body shakes, as Ford’s thumb massages my clit in smooth, small circles.

  He continues sliding in and out until, as I’m coming back to Earth, he pulls out. His come sprays across my body, the warm liquid dotting my breasts and stomach.

  I’m too tired to care, but not too tired to watch.

  He’s so undeniably sexy with his head thrown back, mid-moan, his Adam’s apple popped in his throat. He grunts, my name laced in the sounds of his desire.

  Finally, his hands drop to the side and his face pulls forward, grinning. “You okay?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, pretending to consider the question. “You may have to do that one more time just to be sure.”

  “I’d be happy to help you figure that out,” he laughs. “But I did realize I wasn’t wearing a condom,” he says, like he’s feeling me out to see if I’m angry or cool with it. “I have one in my wallet, but I . . . I honestly forgot about it.”

  I let that sink in as I watch him search my face. “I’m clean. I mean, I just had my yearly and they test for everything.”

  “Me too,” he grins. “Well, not my yearly, but I’m clean.”

  “And I’m on the pill so we shouldn’t find ourselves in another situation.”

  He gives me a strange look, one that I can’t quite read. Instead of trying to figure it out, I yawn.

  “Although I’m starving, I think I need a nap,” I say, yawning again. Glancing at the clock over the mantle, I realize why. “It’s getting late. It’s almost ten.”

  “Ten is late? You’re a wuss,” he laughs, standing and beginning to gather our discarded clothes.

  “Are you a night owl?”

  “I usually head to bed around one or so. I work a lot at night. Work out a lot after work. I have a system,” he laughs.

  “Am I interrupting your system?”

  He stops in the middle of picking up a shirt and looks at me. “You’re the best interruption I’ve ever had, Ellie.”

  There’s no denying how I feel in this moment, no way to pretend the look he’s giving me doesn’t make me want to hit pause on life and stay right here for the rest of time.

  “You want to order take-out?” I offer. “Otherwise, I’m going to have to get another shower, dry my hair, put on makeup—”

  “You don’t have to do any of that to go out with me,” he says with a smile. “But I won’t say no to hanging out with you here and eating food from a box. I’d prefer it, actually.” He hangs his head to the floor. “I’m boring, I know.”

  “Can I tell you a secret?” I ask, getting to my feet. “I’d rather stay home too.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” I head down the hall, fully aware that he’s watching my ass. “I’m going to clean up. You figure out what’s for dinner.”

  His chuckle follows me in the bathroom.

  Ford

  THE CEILING FAN WHIRLS AROUND, causing Ellie to shiver every now and then as we lie together in her bed. I use it as an excuse to bring her even closer to me. She doesn’t resist, just smiles in her sleep and repositions her face on my chest.

  After a nap, a pizza delivery, a shower, followed by round two, we both fell asleep. It’s now nearing eight in the morning. I don’t know what time she usually gets up, but I know there’s no way I’m going to disturb her.

  My clothes are on a chair in the corner of the room, my phone tucked safely in one of the pockets of my pants. In less than an hour, that phone is going to ring. It’s going to be Graham and he’s going to be pissed.

  There is a meeting scheduled at Landry Holdings at eight-thirty. It’s a meeting I’m going to miss because I’m not about to shorten this moment for anything in the world by untangling our bodies just to get my phone.

  Glancing down at her, I take in her pouty lips that are pressed together like they want kissed. Her lashes are splayed against her cheeks, her arm stretched lazily over my stomach. It’s a beautiful sight. It’s an even better feeling.

  I might have suspected that I couldn’t fully connect with another woman because my heart was still with her. It was one of the only explanations why I found a fatal flaw in every date I had, in every girl that I even vaguely considered dating. They just weren’t right. Something was slightly amiss and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

  My fing
er—hell, my whole hand—is on top of it now. It’s absolutely clear that I have two choices: live alone for the rest of my life or fight like hell for this. For her. For us.

  There might be two choices, but there’s only one answer.

  Ellie begins to stir, rolling away from me and stretching.

  “Shh,” I whisper, trying to bring her in beside me again.

  Her beautiful eyes pop open. “Are you going to let me sleep all day?” she laughs sleepily.

  “I’d let you sleep all week if that meant I got to hold you.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost eight or so.”

  She furrows her brows as if she’s just waking up and putting all the pieces together. Before she can comment, my phone rings through the silence.

  “Shit,” I groan. Reality has officially broken through. “I really need to get that.”

  After she wiggles to the side, I unfold my body and pad across the floor. Her gaze is hot against my back, searing my skin as I grab my phone and bring it to my ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Where the hell are you?” Graham asks.

  “Occupied.”

  “Damn it, Ford. Just because Lincoln has shaped up a bit, doesn’t mean you have to fill the vacancy.”

  “Easy there, captain,” I laugh. “Hoda will be there. She has the files, and I went over everything with her yesterday. She knows where I stand. You don’t really need me.”

  I listen to Graham’s tirade, slipping on my pants and shrugging on my shirt. It’s hard to pay attention to what my brother is saying as Ellie sits up in bed, her breasts perky, her nipples in stiff peaks.

  She climbs out of bed, her ass so perfectly round I want to palm it. I’m only reminded of the call when I hear Graham mutter a string of profanities.

  “Relax, Graham. I heard everything you said.”

  “You did fucking not.”

  “Okay. You’re right. I didn’t. But I get the gist of it.”

  He sighs. “Moments like this, I loathe being the only responsible one out of all of you.”

  “I’ll make it up to you.”

  “I’ll add it to your tab,” he says. “Oh, before I go—Barrett will be in town in a couple of days. Mom wants everyone at the Farm for dinner. She said something about Linc wanting to get together anyway so it’s perfect timing. I’ll text you when.”