by Roz Lee
“Just look at you, Becks. It ought to be a sin to be as beautiful as you are.” His heated perusal and the sincerity in his voice brought a flood of heat to her face, and lower.
“The dress isn’t too much, is it? Amy insisted it would be appropriate for tonight.”
“Remind me to give your stylist a raise when we get back. The dress is fabulous, but it’s the person wearing it that makes it stunning.”
She blushed at his praise. “Stop it.” Much more of his praise and she wouldn’t be able to function. The fact he hadn’t brought up the subject of his gift made her more aware of it nestled between her legs. If that’s the way he wanted to play it, she would play along.
Fighting off a massive case of nerves, she checked her purse one last time. Room key. Lip gloss. A single, folded tissue. I.D. Cell phone. Credit card. Cash for tips or a cab if she needed one. “Are we meeting Scott and Roseanne at the restaurant?”
Satisfied she had everything she might need, she pulled the door closed behind her. Ford offered his arm, and she took it, letting him guide her toward the elevators. His mama had taught him well.
“Yes. Is that okay?”
“Works for me. I’m still surprised Roseanne is here with him. I didn’t think she even liked him.”
Ford shrugged, ushering her into the elevator car ahead of him. He pushed the appropriate button then resumed his place beside her. “I guess she likes him well enough.”
“I suppose so.” She couldn’t help but worry about her friend. What little she’d said about her long-standing guest led Becky to believe she might not like him all that much.
They stepped out of the elevator on lobby level. Ford spun her around to face him. “If there’s one thing I know about Scott, it’s the women he’s been with have all been with him because they want to be. Keep that in mind tonight. Roseanne has chosen to be where she is.”
“Okay.” She nodded and pressed her lips together. “I’ll try to remember.”
His words rattled around in her head as she let him lead her from the hotel into the massive attached indoor mall housing some of the best restaurants in the city as well as expensive boutiques and high-end jewelers in a realistic outdoor setting. The lights had been dimmed, mimicking a jewel-toned sunset she would have found romantic if she hadn’t been so focused on figuring out what Ford had meant about Roseanne choosing to be there. Of course she had chosen to be there, or she would have stayed at home.
Ford gave his name to the maître d’ who then went to check on something. Ford snapped his fingers in front of her face, and at the same moment a sharp vibration jolted her clit. Becky wrapped her free arm around her middle and just managed to stifle a squeal before it passed her lips. Her gaze snapped to Ford’s.
Taking both her hands in his, he drew her forward then leaned down and spoke low into her ear. “You’re thinking too hard about the wrong things, Becky Jean. What’s between Scott and Roseanne is their business. Focus on what matters to you tonight.”
With every word he spoke, the device between her legs vibrated, changing in intensity to match his inflection; ceasing with each pause. She gasped as realization dawned and the damned thing reacted to her voice. Oh Lord. It’s sound activated!
She drew back and her gaze landed on the small American Flag pin attached to his lapel. She’d thought it homage to their Made in America marketing campaign. Clamping her lips shut, she looked up at him.
“I knew you would wear it.”
She whimpered as his words, spoken at a conversational level, translated into a series of vibrations she couldn’t ignore.
“Do you like it?”
His voice stroked her clit with each word he spoke. She nodded. His invention was evil and ingenious and Lord, the most erotic thing she could imagine!
He let her left hand go and reached into an inner pocket of his jacket. No vibrations accompanied his next words. “The microphone is in the flag pin, as I see you’ve figured out. Be a good girl, and I’ll let you eat your meal in peace.”
She raised one eyebrow. “And if I choose to be bad?”
“It’s calibrated to pick up loud noises from any distance, or voices within about eighteen inches. You decide if you want me to activate it or not.” He smirked. “It’s up to you, darlin’.”
“Mr. Adams? Your table is ready.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ford tucked her arm in the crook of his, leaving her no choice but to go along. He seated her then took the chair next to hers. How close did the transmitter have to be to operate? If he’d sat across from her, would he have been too far away?
She took the menu offered and listened as her partner ordered wine and appetizers from the waiter who had appeared like magic.
“I’m really looking forward to the concert later,” Ford said without taking his eyes off his menu.
The concert. The very loud concert. Oh, he was an evil one! “You wouldn’t.”
“Not during your brother’s set. That would just be weird.”
Weird pretty much summed up her life these days. She’d once lived a quiet, if not boring life. There had been plenty of ups and downs since Kenneth Adams passed away, but thanks to his son, she hadn’t been bored a single day. “And it wouldn’t be weird to do this in front of our friends?”
He shook his head. “Nope.” He looked up as another waiter placed a loaf of artisan bread on a small cutting board in the center of the table. Ford reached for the carving knife and cut off a chunk, offering it to her. Becky declined. “Trust me. If Scott figured it out, it wouldn’t bother him in the least. Since Roseanne is with him, I doubt she’d care either.”
A cold chill raced down her spine. She opened her mouth to protest that he couldn’t possibly know what her friend would think when Ford stood. She followed his gaze to see the couple in question making their way to the table.
Scott held the chair across from her for Roseanne, sinking any chance she had of having a private word with her friend. As he resumed his seat, Ford smiled and winked at her. She stuck her tongue out at him then sat back as he reached inside his coat.
No. He wouldn’t.
“How was your flight?” he asked the newcomers. Becky Jean bit the inside of her cheek to keep from whimpering. She clenched her thighs tight which only served to concentrate the sensation. He kept up a running conversation for several minutes. She thought she might die as the microphone/receiver picked up every word Roseanne spoke and several of Scott’s, keeping her on the sharp edge of arousal. How in the world would she make it through the concert?
“We’re going to debut a new product at the show this week.” He turned his attention her way. “Why don’t you tell them about it, Becks?”
She thought about begging, but she let her eyes do the job, silently pleading with him to turn the damn thing off. Masturbating in public went way beyond her limits. He reached into his coat and the tension in her shoulders released. She wouldn’t rest easy until she knew for certain he’d turned the infernal thing off.
“Go ahead,” he said. She let her thighs and stomach muscles relax. “You can probably describe the operation of the Your Secret is Safe Personal Vibrator better than I could.”
He’d even named the product! She narrowed her eyes at him then quickly shifted gears as he reached for the switch again. He would pay for this! “Hmm. Let me think.” She picked up her wine glass and sipped. Over the rim, she caught Scott’s amused expression. Immediately, she shifted her gaze to Roseanne who did a terrible job of containing her mirth. A pit opened up inside her, and her stomach slid all the way to her toes. She turned to her partner. “You told them, didn’t you?”
“No. I swear.” The smile on his face made her want to crawl under the table. “I think you just did.”
Shit.
Roseanne laughed out loud. “Oh, God, Becky! If you could have seen the look on your face!” She leaned over the table and whispered loud, “I thought you were going to come right here in the middle of the res
taurant.” She sat back up and asked Ford, “When can I get one of those things?”
“Stop by our booth tomorrow and I’ll make sure you get one. I had enough made up to give one to each of our best-selling retailers. Since it’s been tested and approved, I think we can go into production pretty quickly. What do you think, Becky Jean?”
“I think you played a dastardly trick on me.”
He flashed her the smile that had sold millions of sex toys via their home shopping television show and made him a billionaire. “They don’t call me Kinky Ford Adams for nothing, you know?”
Scott laughed. “I saw that! It was the article in Forbes magazine, right?”
“I don’t know. Do you remember, Becks?”
“Barron’s called him kinky. Forbes labeled him the Backdoor Billionaire.”
“That’s right.” Scott laughed. “God, who would have thought it?”
“Not me.” Lifting his wine glass to his lips, he took a sip. “I just wanted to keep the doors open for the year stipulated in Dad’s will and not lose everything we had in the process. Never dreamed things would take off the way they did.” He turned his gaze on Becky. “I owe it all to Becky Jean. Without her marketing and vision, we might have survived the year, but we would have bled money the entire time.”
She could feel everyone’s eyes on her. Ford had said much the same to her on numerous occasions, but this was the first time he’d acknowledged her contribution to others. This time when she squirmed in her seat, it had nothing to do with Ford’s infernal new device.
“I just put together a reasonable marketing plan. And anyone in the business knows, if your product is inferior, there’s nothing in the world you can say to make people buy it.”
“Are you saying our products are superior?”
“You know they are. Thanks to you”—she nodded at Ford then to Scott—“and you, too. The two of you have come up with innovative ideas that have the competition scrambling to keep up.”
“So tell me about this new one,” Roseanne said. “How does it work?”
Ford withdrew a small, square plastic box from his suit coat. It looked like a battery compartment for a toy, but there were no wires running from it, only an on/off switch on one end. “This is the transmitter and control box.” He pointed to the pin on his lapel. “This is a microphone.” He went on to explain how they would sell it with various types and styles of microphones to suit everyone’s needs.
“And the receiver part?” Roseanne asked Becky.
“Is no bigger than a quarter and is sewn into the fabric. You could wear the panties anywhere, and no one would be the wiser.”
“Unless you can’t control your responses,” her friend added.
~~~
Becky wiped tears from her eyes with one hand and held fast to Ford with the other as he maneuvered them to the stage door following Colin’s set. She was so freaking proud of her brother! She’d always known he had talent, but his sister’s opinion didn’t count. The reaction from the audience tonight had confirmed her assessment, though.
The guard scrutinized their credentials before ushering them backstage where another guard pointed them in the right direction. With the familiarity of their years growing up together, she easily found him talking to a group of men dressed in black T-shirts with STAFF printed on the back in bold lettering.
“Colin!” she cried out. Breaking her connection with Ford, she launched herself in his direction.
“Becky Jean!” A smile broke across his face, and he grabbed her up in a hug, nearly crushing her ribs. “God, am I glad to see you.”
“You were awesome!” She sniffed as more tears threatened. Colin set her down but seemed as reluctant to let her go as she was of him. “I’m so proud of you I could bust.” She wiped her eyes.
“You look like a million bucks in that dress.”
She didn’t want to think about what she’d spent on her gown. All their lives they’d had to watch their pennies. “Don’t get me started on what it cost,” she warned.
“Colin,” Ford said, snaking an arm around Becky’s waist. He extended his other to shake her brother’s hand. “Ford Adams. It’s nice to finally meet you. Your sister speaks of you often.”
“Nice to meet you,” Colin said. “Thanks for helping me surprise Becky Jean, even if I did have to spoil it at the last minute.”
“You should see her out front. Every time we walk past the marquee and your photo shows up, she points and shouts, ‘That’s my brother,’ at the top of her lungs.” Ford laughed as he hauled her closer.
Colin smiled. “Who’da thunk it? Right, Sis?”
“I never doubted you would make it.”
“You might have been the only one, but I’m grateful for your support. Always have been. You’re probably the only person who never tried to discourage me from pursuing my love of music.”
Becky’s heart was so full she was sure it would explode any minute. Colin had always had talent, but in the past few years, he’d grown into it. Success looked good on him. “Dad would be so proud of you.”
Colin’s smile dimmed, and his eyes glistened. “I know he would. He thought it was his duty to try to talk me out of going to Nashville, but when he failed to convince me, he backed off. Let me find my own way.”
“Mom sends her love. She said you promised to fly her out for your debut at the Opry?”
“I did. I want you to come, too, but I figured you could afford your own plane ticket.” He laughed, one eyebrow raised.
“Oh, you!” Becky’s cheeks grew warm. “Yes, I can afford mine and many, many others, thanks to Ford. He saved the town, Colin. You wouldn’t know it anymore. Businesses are reopening. Most of the vacant houses have been bought up and new ones are being built.”
“Sex sells, they say.” He winked at her and her face flamed.
“I suppose it does.”
“I’ve got some time tomorrow. Ford sent me a pass to the convention. I thought I could come by around lunch? Maybe we could get a bite together?”
“I’d love to! I have to warn you, our products are… are….”
“I know all about your products, Sis. I’m all grown up, remember?”
“Of course you are. It’s just—”
“It’s time for us to get back to our seats,” Ford said. “Say good-bye to your brother. You can take all the time you want tomorrow to catch up with him.”
“Bye, Sis.” Colin gave her another bear hug. “Thanks again for coming. Noon okay tomorrow?”
“Perfect,” she said.
“Colin.”
“Ford,” her brother said before he turned to greet a group of female fans who’d been waiting impatiently for him to acknowledge them.
They returned to their seats just as the lights dimmed for the headline act.
“How’s Colin?” Roseanne asked.
“He looks great! We’re having lunch tomorrow. You should come.”
Before her friend could answer, the stage burst to life as the renowned country rock band made their appearance. Becky stood along with everyone else to applaud. The opening chords of their first song rocked the building, but the accompanying vibration between her legs had all her attention.
She’d forgotten all about the tiny device in her panties. Now she couldn’t stop thinking about it. She grabbed Ford’s arm, turned her face into his sleeve, and held on for dear life as his wicked creation pulsed in time with the music. Holy smoke! She’d thought it couldn’t be more devastating than it had been when he’d turned it on in the restaurant, but boy had she been wrong.
The song ended, and the crowd settled into their seats. Thankfully, Ford turned the thing off while the lead singer spoke to the crowd, but the instant the band fired off again, so did the vibrator. Their second number was a ballad, and while the first song had translated into intense sensations, this one stimulated in soft waves, wrecking her control. Once again, she buried her face in his sleeve and squeezed his arm until her fingers cramped.
“Ford,” she pleaded.
He turned slightly, brushed her hair back from her face and leaned in so he could be heard. “Don’t fight it, sweetheart. Let it come.”
Of course, the microphone picked up every word he said, adding another layer of torture for her to deal with. She squirmed in her seat, and focused everything she had on not coming. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Ford.
“Quit fighting it, Becks.” He stroked her arm from shoulder to elbow while holding her as close as the theater seats would allow and placing soft kisses on the top of her head. She knew the song—had always loved it. It ended on a long, sustained note that warbled and spanned from one octave to another. There was no way she could ride it without coming. She just prayed everyone around her would be too caught up in the emotional ending on stage to witness her surrender to the inevitable.
Ford nibbled on her earlobe then whispered, “God, I love making you come.”
As the last word passed his lips, the lead singer let loose, working the syllables up and down the musical scale. His keening wale of love lost forever wrung emotion from the audience who had grown quiet with expectation. Her clit throbbed in time with the music. Every muscle in her body tensed. No. No. No. She fought to hang onto the last threads of her control.
With a final burst from his lungs, the singer hit the last note. The crowd erupted, applauding and cheering at the same instant Becky lost her battle. The orgasm barreled through her like a runaway locomotive. She threw her head back, and before the scream rising from her core could make it past her lips, Ford yanked her into his lap and covered her mouth with his. Her entire body quaked with the force of her release, but Ford’s hands were on her, his arms bracketing her, holding all the pieces of her together until they somehow reassembled themselves.