“Guess I’d better use my mouth then,” he said.
Before her brain could solve the simple equation of what Ford, plus mouth, plus hot equalled—he’d dropped his chin and sucked the tip of her breast into his mouth. The startled cry that slipped from her transformed into a womb-tightening moan as firm lips tugged on her nipple. He stroked her with his tongue, but the layers of cotton and silky nylon dulled the sensation, and she shifted restlessly.
Ford released her breast, gaze once more raking up her body to lock on her face. “Take off your shirt—and your bra.”
Butterflies exploded in her stomach, flapping and tingling. “Well,” she gasped. “This escalated quickly.”
“You want me to slow down, baby? Warm you up with a couple of little kisses on the cheek?”
Oh, she was plenty warm. Borderline melting into a gooey puddle.
“No, I’m good.” She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. Evaporation from all the burning heat travelling south. “Carry on.”
He shot her a smile that should’ve fried both bra and panties to smouldering ash and held up a finger. “Don’t move.”
He strode to the back door.
Holly’s fingers fumbled with the buttons on her shirt. She managed to pop open the top button as he flicked the door’s lock.
Locking-the-freaking-door, crowed the fluttery stomach butterflies, that had swooped to tingle farther down. Goodie-goodie-goodie.
Ford crossed to the stereo and cranked up the music again—not as loud as before but enough that her fingers stilled on the final button, keeping her shirt closed.
“Really?” she said, as he returned to his former position in front of her. “We need a heavy metal soundtrack?”
“Kenny G more your style?”
She flicked her hair over her shoulder and huffed out as much snooty disdain as she could manage…which wasn’t much, considering she was seated on a ute with her push-up bra exposed. But she undid the last shirt button.
He leaned in, dropping a soft kiss on her collarbone. “The music is to cover the sound of you screaming my name as you come.”
Instant. Soaked. Panties.
And lungs that refused to draw in enough oxygen.
“Now unhook your bra.” He dipped his chin, indicating the front closure of her bra.
With trembling fingers, she got hold of the clasp, paused for a moment.
“Didn’t you come in second place in the Manliest Man of the Year bra-removing section this past Easter?” she asked.
Yeah. More stalling, because, baring her boobs to a man in broad daylight. And not just any man…Ford.
“I did. If I’d practiced a little more, I may’ve beaten the reigning champ, Ben.” Ford traced the tip of his finger over the swell of her breast, stopping short of the pale-blue satin cup. “But you don’t want my dirty hands on your pretty underwear.”
Yes, she did. She really, really did. But nerves got the better of her.
“You could wash up first.”
In the tiny bathroom separate from the workshop, out back beside the piles of junk and spare parts. Five minutes was all she needed to get control of the conflicting impulses to bail and to demand he put those grease-stained fingers all over her, inside her…
His gaze heated, fingertips now gliding down the centre of her stomach. “And have you change your mind while I step outside?”
Dammit. That spooky Scorpio mind-reading thing again.
“I don’t think so. I need to taste you.”
Holly couldn’t prevent a shiver from working its way down her spine. “Taste me?”
“Every, delicious, bit.”
“Oh.” Her voice came out a high-pitched squeak.
The gaze sweeping her face sharpened. “Unless you did only come here to talk me out of my shitty mood?” A muscle bunched in his jaw, and he half straightened, pulling away and more than just physically.
“No.” Holly grabbed a fistful of his tee shirt.
Ask for what you want…
“No,” she repeated and spread her knees, tugging Ford into the gap. Her skirt rucked up, his waistband rubbing against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. “I came for you.”
She wriggled her butt closer to the edge, marrying up her panties with a no-longer-relaxed-denim-covered bulge. Arching into him, Holly hooked her ankles either side of his hips, rubbing her pussy—already wet, swollen, needy—against his restrained but oh-so-hard cock. Heat crept into her cheeks.
Ask…
“I…I want you.”
Another class she’d failed? Dirty Talk 101. Telling Ford she wanted his mouth on her, his cock in her, was apparently more than her vocal chords were willing to do. Perhaps showing instead of telling would be more effective? Holly snaked a hand between their lower bodies and found the button of Ford’s jeans.
Before she could release it, his erection ground into her softness, and a ragged groan rumbled from his throat.
His fingers covered hers, stilling her hand. “I want to be inside you in the worst possible way, but I’ve nothing with me. Nothing to protect you.”
Oh. Right. A condom. Not something Ford would keep in his toolbox. Holly licked her lips, tried dismissing her ovaries disappointed ache.
“But I have an idea…” His voice trailed off, eyes hooding as he dipped his head and took her mouth.
Holly sank into the kiss, giving over control to Ford’s warm, questing mouth. What the man lacked in small-talk skills, he made up for with an A-plus kissing prowess. She parted her lips, submitting to the gentle thrust of his tongue. He tasted of strong black coffee with a hint of liquorice—he kept strips of it in a jar on the workbench—and it made her smile. Like her, the man had a sweet tooth.
Holly skimmed her palms over the broad planes of Ford’s chest to his shoulders, kneading the thick muscle there. He broke the kiss just as Holly’s head swam with the intensity of it. He trailed hot kisses down her neck, stopping to suck a small patch of skin into his mouth at the base of her throat. Then his eyes, dark with passion, lifted to meet hers.
“You’re beautiful,” he said and then shut his eyes with a grimace. “And I’ll never be a guy who can express in words how fucking beautiful.” His eyes opened again, stripping her soul raw with their brutal honesty. “So trust me. Trust me to show you.”
Showing instead of telling? Oh, yeah. Halleluiah!
Holly dropped her hands from his shoulders and stripped off her shirt, tossing it to the side. Then without dropping her gaze, she unclipped her bra and shrugged it off—let it follow the same flight path as her shirt. Ford cupped her breasts, her nipples rubbing with aching friction against his roughened palms. Glancing down, Holly moaned softly at the sight of his tanned fingers closing over her skin.
Ford dipped his head, guiding the tip of one breast into his mouth. Pleasure that nearly crossed the line into pain shot through her as he sucked her nipple deep into the wet warmth of his mouth. Holly raked a hand into Ford’s hair, the silky strands setting off another chain reaction of feel-good sensation. With his tongue swirling around her areola and his hand playing maestro with her other breast, Holly arched helplessly against him.
Her breast slipped out of his mouth with a juicy pop.
“Lift your skirt higher, baby.” His teeth closed gently around her other nipple for a brief moment. “Are you wet for me?”
Honestly, the front of his jeans must be soaked due to her grinding. She eased the folds of her skirt up her thighs, and his fingers trailed up her skin after it. Ford took a step back, and she bit her lip to prevent a protesting howl from escaping at the ridged outline of his arousal. She wanted…desperately wanted.
“Higher,” he demanded and sank to his knees in front of her.
Holly bunched up her skirt to her waist, shivering as a cool draught of air tweaked her naked breasts and caressed her now-exposed panties. He touched her inner thigh where it met the crease of her body and exhaled loudly.
“Fuck, you are wet. Wet a
nd hot and juicy. I can’t wait any longer.” He skimmed a knuckle down her barely covered mound. “I was going to tell you to pull your panties to the side, so I could get a taste.” He shook his head, voice strained and choppy. “That’s not going to work anymore because I am going to devour that beautiful pussy of yours.” He used the tip of a finger to snap the elastic leg of her panties against her swollen flesh. “Off.”
Holly wriggled out of her panties, gasping as her butt settled against the cold metal bed. Ford stripped off his shirt in one swift movement and gestured at her to lift her hips. He slid the still-warm cotton beneath her, eyes creasing with warmth and something darker.
Possessiveness.
He slid both her and the shirt closer to the edge, positioning her directly in front of his mouth. Hot kisses dropped onto her bare thighs as Ford’s dark head moved upwards. He paused, apparently studying her as she lay spread out and pulsing with the need for him to tongue her senseless.
“Please.” She whimpered, lifting her hips a fraction toward his mouth.
Big palms settled either side of her thighs, scraping lightly over the wetness glistening around her pussy.
“Spread yourself open farther,” he said. “I can’t touch you, and it’s driving me insane.”
Her heart rate—already racing—shot into orbit. Holly slid two fingers through her soaked curls, gasping as they brushed her swollen clit, and spread herself open.
“Hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Ford said.
And before Holly could protest, he leaned in, and without the slightest hesitation buried his face between her thighs.
Cry number one burst out of her as his mouth closed over her clit, the slight prickle of stubble around his lips grazing her fingers. Ford sucked once, twice, tugging on the sensitized flesh until her hips writhed in mindless pleasure. He released her clit, swiping his tongue over the throbbing bundle of nerves, then lapped at her as if she were an ice cream cone melting in the harsh New Zealand sunshine. And, oh God, when he folded his tongue into a tight spear and thrust it inside her…
Holly’s neck sagged back, her free hand scrabbling for purchase on the smooth metal and when that failed, locked into Ford’s hair.
Hesitation, embarrassment, modesty, hell, every part of her evaporated into mindless bliss as Ford feasted, driving the deep tugs of her womb into tightening cords of pleasure, pulling her closer and closer to climax. Control was a laughable ideal because she couldn’t hold anything back. He drove her out of her mind while the stereo switched to another pounding rock beat, the rhythm humming through her blood, shooting a pulse directly to her core. She bucked, crying Ford’s name as she came apart under his mouth.
He didn’t let her go, not for a moment. Sliding both hands under her butt cheeks, he gripped her tight. She couldn’t catch her breath as Ford continued to rub his lips around her clit, flicking his tongue over and over, demanding she climax again. Apparently, her brain’s insistence that she couldn’t come again was overruled as a second, more intense orgasm rolled in and changed her cries into a scream.
Holly sank back, collapsing bonelessly on the ute’s bed, staring dazedly at the workshop’s wooden crossbeams. A moment passed, and Ford leaned over her, bracing his forearms either side of her shoulders, the warm skin of his chest nudging her stomach.
“Best cure for a shitty mood, ever.” He kissed the tip of her nipple and grinned.
The affection in his gaze gave her insides another pleasurable squeeze, and she smiled back. “You’re welcome.”
Following one’s heart did have its advantages.
Chapter 13
If someone had written a book on the correct etiquette after a-maz-ing oral sex with your best friend, Holly would’ve one-clicked it. Right now, she could use a few handy tips.
Buh-bye, mind-blowing orgasm. Hello, fifty shades of awkward.
“I’m never gonna be able to work on Malcolm’s ute again without picturing you on it.” Ford’s grinning face momentarily disappeared as he tugged on his tee shirt.
Holly hummed in agreement and shoved down the front of her skirt.
Should she order him up here beside her on the ute to return the favour? Since a furtive check of Ford’s jeans revealed one part of his anatomy hadn’t gotten the sexy-fun-time-is-over memo.
Her insides gave a tiny, pulsing squeeze. So on board with getting her hands and mouth on Ford’s naked bod. But here? Holly tugged down her skirt so her butt cheeks were no longer sticking to cool metal. Uncomfortable, but maybe he expected her to offer. Quid pro quo and all that.
She winced and snagged her bra from where it lay artistically draped over the shiny new muffler. Sculpture entitled Raunchiness in the Workplace.
Holly whipped on her bra and buttoned her shirt in record time then snuck a furtive glance at Ford who leaned against the ute with her panties dangling off a finger.
“Gimme those.” Without waiting for him to hand them over, she snatched them up, sliding off the tray onto legs still wobbly with feel-good aftershocks.
His wicked grin widened. “Damn. Hoping you’d let me keep them as a souvenir.”
Ford’s now I’m winding you up tone should’ve put her nerves to rest. Teasing was familiar. Teasing was normal and easy and safe. Nothing else about this moment felt normal and easy and safe.
Holly ducked around the side of the ute and stepped into her panties, doing a quick little shimmy to get them on ASAP.
Ford cocked his head. “Guess that’s a no?”
“You’ve likely got enough donated women’s underwear to raise cross-dressing suspicions—you don’t need mine to add to your collection.”
Ford laughed, doubling over, shoulders vibrating. A laugh free of self-consciousness and ego, free of all the secret weight he carried but rarely showed. Why now, did that laugh do weird, wringing things inside her chest?
A grating key-turning-in-a-lock sound and then the workshop door swung open, ushering in Rob and a blast of cold air. He stopped so suddenly at the sight of them that his upper body tilted forward then rocked him back on his heels. He shot a frowning glance at the stereo and crossed to switch it off.
“Holly, love,” he said, frown turning into a welcoming smile as he shoved his keychain into his pants pocket. “How long’ve you put up with that noise pollution?” His nose crinkled, and he waved a dismissing hand. “Don’t answer. Guess it covered the sounds of him moaning and groaning.”
Ford had recovered from his belly laugh, but the sparks of humor hadn’t faded in his eyes as he briefly met her gaze before transferring his attention to his dad.
Yeah. It hadn’t been Ford moaning and groaning. Good joke, mate. Bloody good joke.
“What’s up, Dad?” Ford asked.
Prickles of heat popped onto Holly’s cheeks. Please not him. Please don’t let Ford be “up”. A covert glance at the front of Ford’s jeans at least put that worry to rest.
“Your mother sent me.” Rob scratched a crop of salt-and-pepper whiskers sprouting on his chin. “Graham dropped off a decent-sized blue cod this morning. Consider this your formal invite to a Sunday fry-up.” His gaze zipped to Holly. “And since you’re here, Hol, you too. Nothing like a fry-up on a winter’s day, eh?”
Holly’s jaw sagged, and she let out a gargled, “Mmmm?”
Lunch with Ford’s freaking parents? Someone send her a copy of their ‘How to Make Polite Chit-chat with Parents after their Son has Gotten You Off,’ e-book. Because she had nothing. Zip. Zero—
“I have a thing,” she blurted in perfect synchronisation with Ford, who said, “Rain check, I’m working.”
Rob’s gaze darted back and forth, a toothy smile flashing across his mouth. He pointed a finger at his son. “You know better than to rain check your mother. Work later.”
Ford threw up his palms. “I’m there.”
Rob swivelled the finger in Holly’s direction. “And you. That thing you’ve got, is it laundry? You seemed to have spilled something on your shirt.
” His pointing finger dropped until it reached the level of Holly’s chest. “Doesn’t look like it’ll stain, though.”
Holly’s stomach plummeted like a rollercoaster hitting the first steepest drop. Evil smiles must be a genetic marker in the Komeke family. Behind her, Ford cleared his throat in an embarrassed rumble.
Holly’s gaze shot to the workbench at Rob’s side. “Apple juice. I stole a sip of Ford’s drink when I came in and dribbled it down my front—such a klutz.”
Was it her, or did her voice sound like Minnie Mouse on helium?
“Ah. There you go.” Rob’s eyes twinkled. “Apple juice won’t stain. So you’ll come for lunch?”
Ford moved to stand beside her, draping an easy arm across her shoulders.
“She’ll come.”
Ignoring the temptation to jab an elbow in his ribs, Holly pasted on the politest smile she could muster. “Thanks, Rob.”
“No probs. I’ll see you at the house in fifteen.” He strode to the door, turned and winked at them. “Oh, and you may want to pay more attention to those Meningitis warnings going around this winter. Don’t share drinks, don’t share spit, remember?”
Rob left, and the sound of his chuckles floated back through the open door.
***
“You still threw me under the damn bus,” Holly grumbled, as fifteen minutes later, she and Ford followed the paved path to the Komeke’s front door.
“And omigawd”—she pointed both index fingers at the front of her shirt, which now showed no sign of a guilty mouth-sized wet-patch—“how is having lunch with your dad after that…interruption, a good idea?”
Ford, walking a platonic distance away at her side, shot her a hooded glance. “Dad’s staunch. Don’t worry. A little fish, a little small-talk, same as any other time you’ve had a feed here.”
“So not the same. Then I didn’t have your spit soaking my shirt.”
“True.” Ford gave her hand a quick squeeze and opened his parents’ front door. “Count your blessings the old man didn’t check on me ten minutes earlier.”
“That’s meant to make me feel better?”
Playing For Fun Page 16