Mister Know It All: A Hero Club Novel

by Amélie S. Duncan

  A fork hovered over a crispy artichoke in front of me. And not to leave out Ford’s fascination with veggies.

  “I was going to try it,” I said and took a bite, stifling my pleasure at just how good it tasted. In fact, all the food came out like little decorated presents and was delicious.

  “Are you enjoying this?” I asked him.

  “I’m enjoying you,” he said, his tone soft as a feather.

  “Boy, when you decide you like someone, you come armed with compliments,” I teased, sipping my glass of wine.

  “I’m being honest,” he said. There was no humor in his voice.

  A warmth filled my chest, and I averted my eyes and added two more crispy artichokes to my plate.

  Ford chuckled.

  “So, tell us more about life as an art curator?” Tam asked Martin.

  “I’m co-owner of Zmirak now. But acquiring art, putting together showings is a full-time job. With photographers like Ford, it makes things easier.”

  “How do the two of you know each other?” I asked.

  “Martin was a Fashion Institute of Design student, and we met at a show I worked on.”

  “You design too?” Tam asked Martin.

  “At one time. These days we find ourselves in many careers,” Martin said.

  “Not me. I was a doctor from conception, and my fate is sealed,” Tam half joked.

  Tam wanted to be a doctor, that I was sure of. Still, I reached over and squeezed her knee. The pressure she was under by her parents paled in comparison to what I went through.

  “This weekend may be my last to have fun before I take the MCAT exam in a couple of months.”

  “Then I’ll make it my mission to make it memorable, as new friends,” Martin said to Tam.

  I liked that Martin seemed to enjoy entertaining. I hadn’t been on my best form this trip, and I also wanted Tam to have a great time. “Sounds great.”

  “Yeah, I’ll come too,” Ford said.

  “Since when do you go to dance clubs?” Martin asked.

  “I don’t like the drinking, drugs, or the way people behave on both,” Ford said. “But I’ll go.” He rubbed my shoulder with his thumb, and my heart skipped a beat.

  “How about karaoke?” I suggested.

  Tam, Ford, and Martin all said, “No.”

  After we finished lunch, Tam and I agreed to meet up later, and I headed with Ford back to his place. He handed me my coat when we exited the glass elevator. The temperature had plummeted, and I shivered in the thin cardigan I’d brought with me, so I appreciated when Ford took off his blazer and helped me into it.

  “But what about you?” I asked.

  “I’m parked a few blocks away. I’ll be fine.”

  Once Tam and Martin set off to the Dakota, I was once again alone with Ford.

  JASMINE

  Whisper to me

  “I came to listen, not have sex,” I announced outside the front door of Ford’s apartment.

  “Scared you’ll do both?” he said with amusement in his tone.

  I adjusted my glasses. “No, I’m not. I’m just telling you how things will go.”

  He touched my back. “You’re the one in control here.”

  I stepped inside quickly. “No touching.”

  I needed a clear head, and if Ford kept touching me, I’d lose it. No matter how hard I tried, I let my feelings get involved.

  I couldn’t just walk away from him.

  “Come with me.” He led me over to the back of his staircase and the door with the dim light bulb. The room was small, with a row of tables with trays on them. Hanging above was a clothesline with photos clipped to them drying. One that caught my eye was of me on the first day I arrived in New York. I was holding his Luke Skywalker helmet. My eyes were wide, and my smile wide. I could see my tan bra strap and my nipples visible through the fabric of the leotard I had on.

  I furrowed my brows. “That’s a photo for the bin.”

  “Never. I love it. You look beautiful,” he said, his tone even.

  I wrinkled my nose. “I look silly and naïve.”

  “Let me show you one of my favorites,” Ford said. He opened a drawer and removed a photo, and handed it to me. In it, I had my hands folded beneath my head on the bed, my hair wild, my eyes watery.

  “You’re delicate here,” he said in a gentle tone.

  My heartbeat went erratic. I didn’t remember crying; I remembered being sated and happy. But the picture told more: I’d been afraid. Afraid Ford wasn’t as satisfied as me. That I’d not be enough, and he’d cheat and leave too.

  “This one is not for sale, promise me…” I rasped.

  He put the photo down and lifted my chin to him. “I took this one for me, Jasmine. Only me.”

  I averted my eyes. “Thanks.”

  He sighed and dropped his hands. Reaching inside the drawer again, he pulled out another photo. “I took this one of me watching you sleep on the bed.”

  In Ford’s picture, his piercing blues shone with light. He had what seemed the same fear and happiness as I saw in my photo.

  “As you can see, you’re not alone. A photo is a flash of time, and having you in my bed was a precious time I’ll never regret.”

  My throat closed, and I lowered my head.

  “Come, let’s go into the studio so we can talk.” He opened a panel on the wall, and we walked inside a studio mostly brick and with a skylight above, stacks of canvases, and a large easel and drop cloths. It also had a 3D printer and a small kitchen with a leather couch and table.

  “Coffee or Tea?” he asked.

  “Tea,” I said.

  He put on the kettle, and I got up and helped him set up a small tray in front of the couch.

  He sighed heavily and leaned back toward me. “Where to begin?”

  I sat up straight and folded my hands in my lap. “Wherever you want to, Ford. I’m not judging you, but I want to understand.”

  “All right. Cecile came from Quebec to New York City with nothing. She had a few odd jobs to pay rent with five roommates.”

  “New York City dreams. I’ve had them before,” I said, and he nodded in agreement.

  “I met her at her job as an usher at Bryant Park during fashion week. Long story short, I asked her to model for me, and Martin liked the photos. After more work, he showed the images to a few of his selective buyers who loved them. I offered her a job.”

  “So, she worked for you as a model?” I said and took a sip of the tea.

  “Yes. We became more soon afterward. Once we had a show and it was a hit, doors opened up everywhere. Cecile suddenly had many people inviting her to places to do things, and not all of them good. I tried to intervene and protect her.”

  “I have a feeling she didn’t like that,” I said, putting my cup down.

  “No, she did not. A friend of mine got close to her. Andre. He offered her a chance to be the face of a fragrance campaign he oversaw. They had an affair that I didn’t find out about until after Cecile’s car accident. Andre and Cecile had been drinking and taking drugs when they hit a stop sign.”

  My brows furrowed. “She had an affair with your best friend? That’s horrible! But you forgave Cecile and stayed with her?”

  “She was hurt and alone. Andre walked away without a scratch, but Cecile had brain swelling and a broken leg and arm. At the time, I thought we could try a fresh start. I wasn’t perfect either. I worked all the time and never took time off . . . Anyway, I stepped in to make things right. I left my smaller apartment, and we picked out this one with more space for her wheelchair. I surrounded her with care or so I thought. She said I smothered her and asked for time alone to figure out what she really wanted. She left me.”

  I took his hand. “I’m sorry, Ford.”

  He closed his hand around mine. “I’m bitter, and I can’t deny that I cared for Cecile, Jasmine. But that’s not why I’m telling you all this. I wasn’t recreating photos of my past. Things had ended with Cecile months ago, a
nd I wasn’t ready to see the truth. But I’ve come to realize that I have moved on. My photos may have a style, but they capture what I find meaningful to me—my feelings. Your feelings. The photos of you are how I feel about you. I want you.”

  I licked my lips, and my eyes darted away. “A couple of days in your bed and you think you want to be with me?”

  He let my hand go, and the expression on his face turned stoic. “Do you honestly think so callous of yourself and me? I liked you before we were lovers.”

  I frowned. “That wasn’t fair, but this feels like a fantasy. I don’t live here, and the likelihood of long-distance relationships, even short distances, doesn’t work. I graduate in the spring, but my life is in Boston. You work and travel. We won’t see each other.”

  “I want to make room for you in my life. It takes a desire to want to work at it. Tell me you don’t want to spend time with me.”

  My eyes closed, and I gathered my breath. “It’s not that simple. Life’s not that simple. I just broke up with someone—”

  “So did I, and it doesn’t change my feelings.”

  Ford moved closer to me on the couch, and my pulse sped up. He had me at a loss for words. He barely knew me, and there were many reasons we wouldn’t last. Everything was happening fast, too fast.

  “Ford, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll spend time with me.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips to mine. “Let me touch you, fuck, and spoil you. Say yes.” He hummed and pushed my hair back from my shoulders and nuzzled beneath my ear. His tongue grazed my neck, making me shiver.

  “I need you close to me,” he whispered.

  I needed him more. I pressed my head to his shoulder, and he pulled me across his lap. His hand moved under my dress and squeezed my thigh that trembled. My skin heated, and my breath went faster.

  “I can feel you want me, Jasmine, and I haven’t even reached inside your thong,” he murmured, his voice deep.

  I sucked in air and placed my hand over his to stop it from moving farther up my thigh.

  “Sex is not everything, Ford. We’ve both been in relationships. The beginning sex is great, but things change the longer we’re together. I don’t know how we can sustain what we have from a distance after I leave.”

  He cupped the side of my face. “You want to know what binds us? Raw honesty. Whisper what’s hard, whisper your dreams, and I’ll carry them. And you’ll carry mine. You’re not alone with me. This will make our bond, and my promise to take care of you.”

  His words were alluring, charming. They wrapped around my heart and squeezed, and I didn’t know what to make of it. I don’t believe it, and to even say such a thing is cruel.

  “Don’t. Please don’t say things you don’t mean.”

  I stared into his eyes, searching for some sign of deception. But Ford met my gaze steady. There was no humor. There was just him open to me in a way no one had been before. No man I shared my life with ever asked about my dreams or for my pain. To share something like that would require trust, a real leap of faith. It also touched on my deepest fear, that even knowing everything, I’d end up alone.

  My body trembled. “I…I don’t know if I can do that.”

  He cuddled me and trailed gentle kisses over my face. “I meant what I said. Let me show you.” He leaned over to my ear and whispered, “I’m afraid I’ll end up alone. I’m scared my mom will return to alcohol, and I won’t drink because I’m terrified I’ll become like her. It hurts that my father abandoned us, and with no parents, I had to be a man when I was still a child and raise my brother and sister, but I fear that I didn’t do enough for them. I slept in a hotel for a month after Cecile left. I gave her everything I could give, and she still left. My secret dream is to have my own family, but I fear I may never have one.”

  My eyes stung. I hugged him tight. “That’s not true. You’ll be a great father. You told me your brother and sister are doing well and successful. You helped them despite your parents. Your father is a fool for leaving you and your family behind, and I bet he regrets that. I’m sorry about Cecile, but you’re a great man and deserve to be with someone who doesn’t need a break from you when all you tried to do was love and care for her.”

  His eyes watered, and he kissed my lips and went silent. He’d been so honest. I could only give him the same back.

  I rested my cheek against his and whispered, “The only way I could get my parents’ attention was to excel at everything. When I failed, they were harsh in their criticisms, especially my mom, but they never hit me so I didn’t think I could complain. I learned early I had to work to earn their love. I don’t even know what I want or who I really am because I spent my life trying to gain their acceptance. I overworked at school and my past relationships, but they all left me. I didn’t cry over Randall because deep down, I expected him to leave me, because I didn’t believe anyone would love me.” I choked.

  The deep wound in my heart rose to the surface, and tears I swallowed for years came flooding down like a broken dam.

  What have I done?

  I tensed, and a knot formed in my chest. I was like cracked glass still holding it together, but a slight push and I’d break apart. My mind raced with thoughts that Ford would leave me torn up or that my feelings may be too much for him.

  But then Ford took my face in his hands, and I closed my eyes. His soft lips brushed my eyelids, my cheeks.

  “Look at me, petal,” he whispered.

  I opened my eyes, and Ford’s gaze bore into me, and my heart thudded. There was no impatience or disinterest, only kindness. “Your tears matter to me. Wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, I’ll come and take care of you.”

  I wiped my eyes. “Ford. That sounds so old-fashioned. I can take care of myself.”

  “You can, but you won’t have to be alone with me. If you let me, I can be so good for you.”

  “Why me, Ford?”

  “Why not you, Jasmine? You’re smart, beautiful, and I enjoy your enthusiasm and humor. I wanted to know everything about you before I got to touch you. And now that I have, I’m already addicted. Let me have you.” His lips molded to my own, and his tongue plunged in deep. Yes. This. I want this. His kiss was demanding, all-consuming. There were no barriers, just the two of us holding and kissing each other.

  His hands roughly moved to take off my clothes, tugging my dress up and over my head, too impatient for the buttons. His hands slid up my sides and yanked up my lace bra above my breasts, then he latched his mouth to my nipple. I tipped my head back and moaned in pleasure as he sucked and kissed. A thrill shot through my body. I liked Ford impatient and eager for me. His hand moved down inside my thong to stroke my pussy.

  My jaw clenched tight, and I shuddered, burying my head into his broad shoulder as his fingers pushed inside. I inhaled, taking in his scent. I loved the way he smelled, the way I felt in his arms. I sank into the warmth of his body.

  I’d missed him. I’d missed his touch. His intensity. And I missed his love of caring for me, something that was so unexpected that first night I was here. He was already showing me what it would be like to be cared for by him.

  “Tell me how much you want me.” He curled his fingers in and stroked over that charged spot inside me.

  My teeth bit hard into my bottom lip. Oh, Ford, yes. “I do. So much.”

  He kissed my lips as he stirred his fingers inside me, and the sensation sent a jolt that had me lifting my hips.

  His free hand gripped my waist. “You want me to tie you open for me?”

  “You can do whatever you want to me, Ford,” I whimpered and squeezed my inner muscles around his fingers.

  “I know I can, and all I want to do is make you happy.”

  He kissed my mouth, moved me off his lap to lay back on the couch, then dropped to his knees. He tore my thong and moved my thighs open as he stared at my pussy.

  “You’re beautiful, petal. I love seeing how wet you are for me. You want to give your swe
et cunt to me and will, whenever I want to take it, won’t you, Jasmine?”

  My breath came harder, and I grabbed the arm of the sofa as Ford kept me pinned with my legs open for him. “Yes, Ford, please.”

  He kissed my inner right thigh. “Mmm, I love you begging me.” His hands gripped my buttocks as his tongue swirled around my clit. He sucked it in his mouth and curved his fingers in, stroking my inner walls.

  “Oh, Ford,” I moaned. My body clenched and vibrated. He knew just how to touch me, to make me lose myself. I rocked my hips as my inner muscles squeezed.

  “Wait for me, Jasmine,” he commanded. “I want you to come on my cock.”

  He removed his fingers, then he undid the front of his jeans. “You need me to fuck you, tell me.”

  “Fuck me, Ford.” He climbed on top and entered me, grounding his hips and plunging his cock in deep. We moved at a frantic pace; the pleasure reached places I’d never had before. Sweat poured from my body, and I could feel my orgasm looming.

  I panted, “Ford.”

  “I feel you, Jasmine,” he said, his voice strained.

  I cried and dug my nails into his shoulders as I shuddered, and Ford held on, claiming every last drop of my pleasure as his own.

  “Oh, Jasmine. Fuck.” He thrust in deep and fast, clutching my hips as he came.

  I wrapped my legs around him, feeling his cock throb inside me.

  “I’m crushing you,” Ford said.

  My arms closed to hold him tighter. “I don’t care.” A feeling of possessiveness came over me. Ford chose me, and he was mine.

  “I do,” he said and moved so I could rest on top of him.

  My feet caught my attention, and I laughed.

  “I left on my Star Trek socks.”

  “I told you I would fuck you in those socks.”