by Trace, Piper
Her belly grumbled and she remembered she hadn’t had breakfast, not even the coffee her body normally required. She was surprised she didn’t have a headache from the lack of caffeine. Maybe spanking cured addictions too? It was a panacea! She giggled at the thought and gathered her stuff to go find something to eat. Maybe Charley would be around to have lunch with her.
As she neared the garage on her way back into the house, she heard the whine of Ford’s Aston Martin coming up the driveway. A smile spread across her sun-kissed face. If she could get where he could see her, she’d be able to greet him in her tiny bikini as he returned home. Surely he’d be pleased with that. He might even screw her right there in the grass.
Geez, she was turning into a damned harlot.
Ford was maneuvering into the garage just as Evie came around the side, and she could tell from his face that he hadn’t seen her. Her smile fell like a brick when she saw the back window of Ford’s sleek car. The window was shattered. A chaotic spider web of broken glass emanated from one point…a hole in his window the size of a walnut. She was no expert, but that looked like a bullet-hole.
What the hell?
Her stomach seized, her earlier relaxation and carefree mood replaced by a cold dread. The dread was a familiar feeling she’d been living with ever since John had threatened her in his office months ago.
Had John tried to hurt Ford? She heard the car door slam and then Ford’s voice. He was angry—yelling into his phone. She instinctively did not want him to know she was witnessing this, so she ducked back around the corner of the garage and listened. Her chest tightened above the knot in her stomach as she thought about Ford being in danger. She couldn’t live with herself if Ford was dragged into her mess with her psychotic ex.
“I want it stopped NOW!” Ford yelled into the phone, his voice so angry she flinched. Her heart pounded as she yanked off her hat so she could flatten against the outside garage wall.
“You have what you want.” Then there was a pause. “Well you can’t have that! You listen to me…you better never fucking come near—hello? Hello? Fuck!” Ford slammed the phone to the driveway with such force that it shattered, and he kicked at the pieces as if he were angry the phone had the nerve to break.
Ford stood still for a moment gazing in the direction of his gate. He put both hands up to the sides of his head, his fingers laced in his hair in a gesture of despondency. Evie could only see him from behind, so she didn’t know what his face looked like, but his posture was all tension. The bad feeling in her gut intensified.
He stalked to the side entrance of the mansion, slamming the door so hard the window rattled. She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and realized she was trembling. Easing slowly off the wall, not taking her eyes from the side door to the house in case Ford decided to make a reappearance, Evie slipped into the garage.
She didn’t want Ford to catch her snooping around if there really was a bullet-hole in his car. She went to his beloved Aston Martin, the first car in a row of eight cars, one motorcycle and a boat, and opened the door on the driver’s side to look at the rear window. Sure looked like a bullet-hole to her. She turned her head slowly to the front, visualizing the path the bullet would have taken through the car, not wanting to believe what she was seeing.
And there it was.
Vertigo slammed into her as the world tilted. She grabbed for the door frame to steady herself until the lightheadedness passed. Then her eyes focused on it again—confirmation. There was a hole shattered into the dashboard of the car. A plate that used to house knobs for climate control now hung off the dashboard in pieces, one of the knobs shattered, leaving only a metal stick protruding from the ruined faceplate. Broken plastic lay scattered across the car’s console.
She looked down at the driver’s seat and did the mental calculation. Ford had come within five inches of that hole being in his neck instead of the dashboard. When he’d left the house that morning, he almost hadn’t returned. Instead of black plastic spread throughout the front seat, it would have been blood. Ford’s blood.
Ford was a force of nature. She couldn’t imagine such a strong life-force being snuffed out. Shaking, she backed away from the shattered interior of the car.
John had done this.
Could he be so disturbed that he’d try to hurt Ford because he took her in? She was sure she knew the answer to that question. Her gut clenched again. This was her fault. She’d brought this to Ford’s house.
Dejected, Evie trudged from the garage. Maybe Ford would tell her what happened.
Evie went into the same side door Ford had gone through and checked the library for him. He was there, leaning back in his desk chair, looking out the window with his hands tented in front of his mouth. When she peeked her head in, he smiled, tight-lipped. Almost as if he couldn’t help it—as if his mouth didn’t want to make the gesture, but it broke through anyway.
“Evie.” His voice held a hint of what sounded like trepidation. “You’ve been to the pool. Let me look at you.” He gestured for her to come into his office. She entered cautiously, afraid of what Ford would tell her. She searched his face for some hint of what happened to him and his car, but she saw nothing more than his body tension, a sign that he was feeling troubled under the surface.
He was hiding his unease, so she knew not to bring up what she’d seen. She stood in front of his desk and he twirled his finger to indicate she was to turn around. She rotated and looked back over her shoulder to watch his face. He whistled low and long, his eyes twinkling.
“That bikini bottom looks so good on your ass. It’s just small enough to show your gorgeous curves. Come here.”
She went around his desk to stand directly in front of his chair. He put his large hands on her hips and turned her around again. Dipping his fingers under the edges of her suit, he slid the sides of her bikini bottom into the crease between her butt cheeks, exposing her skin with his improvised thong.
“Look at you,” he murmured. “I can still see the marks on your skin from your spanking. This pretty suit doesn’t quite cover them.” He caressed her still-pink skin. “Does it hurt?”
“Just a little,” she answered, though really, it was fine. He smoothed the fabric back into place and turned her around again to pick her up, as if she weighed nothing, and set her on his desk, facing him in his chair.
“Did you go swimming?” He spread her legs and pulled his chair up between them.
“No, I just relaxed in the sun. Maybe next time we can go swimming together?”
“No.” The word came out as a chuckle. “I don’t use the pool.”
“You don’t?”
“No, never.” He ran his hands up and down her smooth, tanned legs.
“Why not?”
“I’m scared of the water.” He gave her a crooked smile, looking up at her sheepishly through his eyelashes.
“But you have a pool. And a boat!” she said, incredulous.
“I have those because they are things rich people have.” He grinned at her. “Actually, I do like to sail, but I always have a life-jacket close at hand.”
“I didn’t think you were scared of anything.”
He glanced up at her again, and it was a moment before he answered, his searching gaze seeming to delve into the depths of her blue eyes. “Some things, Evie. I’ve discovered there are some things I’m very afraid of.”
She frowned. His cryptic answer further dragged down her already-troubled mood. She was sure he was referring to her and Charley somehow.
Wrapping his arms around her waist, he buried his nose between her breasts and inhaled deeply. “You smell like sunshine and coconuts,” he mumbled into her cleavage, smelling her suntan lotion. Her nipples peaked at the close proximity of his mouth. He must have noticed her reaction because he closed his lips on one of her hard nipples, over the bathing suit material, and sucked. She felt the pull on her skin and the friction of the material, and her breath hitched.
/> He stood suddenly, and took her face in his hands, kissing her urgently. The kiss went on, long and hard, as if Ford was kissing her out of need and not simply desire. He broke away finally and they were both gasping. He yanked her bikini top up and her breasts popped out from under the fabric, nipples hard and yearning to be sucked. He moved to kiss her neck and worked both of her breasts with his hands, caressing and squeezing them.
“Oh Ford,” she cried without meaning to—he was acting with an uncontrolled ardor she normally didn’t see. Noises were coming out of her mouth without thought, as Ford laid her back across his desk for the second time that day. He leaned over her, pressing his crotch to hers, grinding against her with their clothes still on, and lapping at her nipples.
“Evie, god, Evie, you were so good to me today. You feel so right.” He spoke passionately in between kisses to her nipples, like it was important that she understood his words.
She was glad he was pleased with her. He reached a hand down between them and pushed the fabric between her legs aside, finding the wetness there and delving into it, making her squirm.
Moving back up, he kissed her mouth again, and she welcomed his strong, hot tongue, relishing the intimacy of it. Ford rarely treated her to this many real kisses.
Without breaking the kiss, he deftly untied the side strings on her bikini bottom and she lifted her hips so he could pull it off her. She heard the metallic sounds of his belt buckle being unclasped, then his zipper being pulled down. He braced himself over her with one hand and she felt him use the other to guide himself to her wet entrance.
He shoved his cock into her, and she groaned, arching her neck, lifting her shoulder blades off the desk at the feeling of pure pleasure she felt from Ford inside her. Scooping his hands around her ass to pull her towards him, he used the counterforce to bury himself in her. She gasped, grabbing at his hips, lifting her heels into the air, trying to pull him deeper, though it was impossible. She just couldn’t seem to get close enough to him.
“Wait.” His voice was husky with excitement, and he pulled out of her. “Turn over. I want to look at your spanked ass while I fuck you.” She levered herself to her feet and turned around, bending over his desk as she’d been positioned that morning.
He entered her again like he couldn’t stand not being inside her, but he held still in her while he touched her tender bottom, tracing the pink marks on her skin, his breathing heavy. Soon, with a moan, he began thrusting again.
He rocked against her urgently, as if she hadn’t just made him come only a few hours before. As he sank into her, he kept repeating, “Yes, yesss.” Her pleasure built quickly with each stroke. Ford was ravaging her with such fervor he seemed to be barely in control, and Ford was always in control.
In a ragged voice, his lips right next to her ear as his hips slammed against her ass, he asked, “When you were tied to this desk and I punished you, did you want me to fuck you before I let you go?”
“God yes,” she answered truthfully, without hesitation. “I wanted you to fuck me just like this—from behind. I couldn’t see you back there and I couldn’t stop you. I wanted you just to take me while I was tied up.” Her voice jumped in rhythm as his thrusts jarred her body, but he had heard her and it was enough for him. She felt him grow larger inside her and he pounded deeper, his fingers digging into her hips.
She knew they were both thinking of him taking her while she was tied up and helpless, and the thought made them both come, him only a moment after her. The reverberations of her orgasm were still pulsing through her as his cock started pumping cum deep inside her at the point of his own orgasm.
When he was finally done, he leaned over her, holding himself up with his arms, catching his breath. Slowly, he pulled out, and she grabbed the beach towel out of her bag and used it to clean up. He used the other end of the towel to dry himself while Evie arranged her bathing suit back into place. The hem of his shirt had gotten wet, she noticed, since he’d been in too much of a hurry to take it off first. He touched the spot and cursed, excusing himself to the bathroom.
When he emerged, looking as if he’d had a stylist in there with him, he came to her and embraced her for a long, quiet moment. “You’re too easy to be with,” he said into Evie’s hair, and it sounded ominously like an accusation to her. He pulled back to look in her eyes. “I couldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you,” he said, causing her stomach to twinge with worry. He’d done a good job of distracting her from what she came to ask him about.
A dark cloud seemed to pass over his face and he pulled back, dropping his head with a sigh. “I, uh… I’m going to work out.” He straightened the cuffs of his shirt, his attention seeming suddenly rapt to anything but her.
Evie chewed the inside of her cheek. Ford was fidgeting. Avoiding eye contact. She’d never seen him fidget.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice edgy with concern, her own eyes pinned to his averted ones.
“Nothing. Why don’t—”
“Ford,” she cut him off. “Talk to me.”
“No.” His voice was sharp and resolute. “The only thing you need to know—” his eyes caught hers and the intensity in them made her gut twist with fear “—is that I will not allow you to be harmed.” He blinked twice in quick succession, his eyes going unfocused for a moment before he seemed to return to her. He was seriously distracted.
She didn’t like the look on his face. His jaw was like steel, and his lips were mashed in a grim line. He seemed resolute about whatever had just played out privately in his head. Whatever it was, it didn’t make her feel any better.
He offered a hand to help her off his desk. “Charley might be around. I saw his truck out front, but not his bike. If you can find him, show him how you throw knives. It’ll really freak him out.”
She smiled in spite of her unease, knowing Ford’s attempt at lightheartedness was a front for whatever he was really feeling. She didn’t say anything else to him, but took her time in gathering up her bag.
They met eyes again as she turned to go, and again Ford couldn’t seem to hold her gaze, dropping his beautiful emerald eyes and running a hand through his hair in an uncharacteristically anxious gesture.
Evie closed the library door behind her reluctantly, vowing to find Charley and take him out to the garage to look at Ford’s car, but her biker man was nowhere to be found. She slowly climbed the stairs back to her room, so many thoughts snarling in her brain that she didn’t know what to think about first.
After showering, she grabbed a short, silky robe and wrapped it around her naked body, too distracted to pick out an outfit. Dropping heavily onto her bed, she stared out the window for a long time, mulling over the idea of asking Ford for enough of her salary in advance to pay John back immediately.
She hadn’t wanted to do that, and she knew it would cause an issue with Ford. He’d give her the money—she was sure of that—but it would change things. It was important to Ford that she had the free choice to leave at any moment, and if she borrowed money, she’d be beholden to him. She didn’t think Ford would continue their…relationship, for lack of a better word, if she owed him money.
And she wasn’t ready to give that up. Charley and Ford were giving Evie the only real happiness she’d had in years, maybe ever. To feel loved and desired and safe…well, she just couldn’t bring herself to change things.
She pondered how to get the money without altering their deal, but after an hour she gave up in frustration. If Ford gave her the money it would change the delicate balance between them, and Evie didn’t want that to happen. She had more than herself to think of—Charley was a part of this too. If she altered her relationship with Ford, who knew what effect it’d have on Charley and Ford. And she was not going to be the cause of Charley’s fresh heartbreak.
She left her room in search of both men, seeking comfort and an answer that wasn’t there. But she wanted to see them, needing to be reassured of her safety and theirs.
At least they had for her and for Charley. How could Ford remain unaffected?
She rapped hesitantly at his door, entering when she heard a distant, “Come in.” Ford was in his bathroom. She’d never been in his room before, so she followed the direction she’d heard his voice.
Upon entering the bathroom, she was struck by two overwhelming sights. The first was the architectural masterpiece that was his en suite. If Evie could imagine what the master bathroom might look like in the penthouse floor of a luxury Las Vegas hotel suite, she still couldn’t have come up with the reality of Ford’s bathroom.
First, it was huge—half the size of her last apartment, it seemed. And second, there were mirrors and marble everywhere. Even the intricately coffered ceiling had been fitted with mirrors. The room was partitioned into two areas, the first being a dressing area with thick, marble counters on both sides of the room, topping drawers that lined up under the stone slabs, adding order and linear aspects that were repeated over and over in the parallel mirrors. The effect was an elegant, breathtaking space of a caliber she’d never seen.
Yet all that shine and glitz was overshadowed by something else…the other sight that had swamped Evie’s senses with pleasure the second she’d stepped into the room. Ford, leaning on one of the counters on closed fists, wet from a shower. A towel was slung low around his waist and water beaded on his skin. His hair tousled in a messy, sexy way she’d never seen, shiny and wet. He looked at her through the reflection without turning, keeping his muscled back to her.