"Where are we going?" I asked as I smiled widely up at him. His eyes were warm and soft, and it made me want to kiss him again.
"I thought I'd see where the road takes us for a while, then take you out for pizza."
"I'm ready," I said happily. "Let's go."
I locked my door before Ford took my hand and led to me over to his bike. He opened one of the hard saddlebags and pulled a small half-helmet out. He handed it to me with a serious almost stern expression. "You don't ride without it, honey."
"Okay," I agreed with a smile. He was so sweet, making sure I was safe. I put it on my head and started fumbling with the chin strap.
"Here." He stepped right in front of me. His eyes focused on the strap as he fastened it under my chin for me, making sure it was secure. I stared up at his lips as his fingers brushed against my neck, part of me wishing he'd just take me to bed right now. He finished and met my eyes. His lips twisted in amusement as his eyes darkened. "Get your mind out of the gutter, woman," he growled out as he narrowed his eyes at me. "You're going to have to woo me to get into my pants tonight."
"Woo you?" I asked as I played along.
"You know, pay me compliments, open doors for me, pull out my chair." He grinned as he turned to start the bike with a low rumble. I pursed my lips as he pulled his half-helmet on and turned back to me.
"I have a better idea," I said as I stepped close and zipped his jacket up for him.
"Oh yeah?"
"I'll just show you my tits later." I took in a deep breath heaving my breasts upward for emphasis.
"Or you could do that," he blurted out as he stared down at me cleavage with helpless lust burning in his eyes.
I reached up and patted his cheek. "Good boy," I murmured smugly.
He grabbed my wrist firmly as something dark and dominant sparked to life in his eyes. "Don't make me tie you up and spank your ass, honey." His voice was low and commanding. My clit throbbed in time with my gasp. He watched my reaction with avid eyes, then leaned in close until his lips were mere millimeters from mine. "I think you'd like that." He voice was almost a whisper. It's sensual timbre made me shiver all over.
Fuck, yes. I nodded jerkily, unable to speak past the immediate torrent of arousal that hit me.
"Good girl." He released my hand and patted my cheek as his mouth twisted wryly, ignoring my glare. He threw his leg over the massive machine and patted the seat behind him. "Hop on, honey." His voice was even and calm again.
I continued glaring at him as I carefully climbed on behind him, so I didn't scratch the bike with my heels.
"You need to hold on tight, Jen," he said over the sound of the engine running. "This thing has a lot of torque, and I'll be careful, but I don't want you falling off. Okay?"
"How big is this thing's engine?" I asked incredulously.
"About 2300 cc," he answered.
"Holy shit!" I blurted out. That was the biggest motorcycle engine I'd ever heard of. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were overcompensating."
He snorted out a laugh. "Just hold on. Okay?"
"Okay," I answered as I happily wrapped my arms around Ford's waist, and pressed my cheek against his muscular back. I sighed in contentment. For once in a very long time, I felt like I was right where I belonged. He popped the bike into gear, and away we went.
**********
I was grinning like an idiot when we pulled into the parking lot of a little pizzeria an hour or so later. Riding with Ford was fun and exhilarating. He wasn't one of those assholes who purposefully rode fast and hard to scare the girl on their bike. He rode with confidence and control, never once showboating or riding recklessly. Whenever we were stopped at a light, he would rub my right leg affectionately, occasionally asking me which direction we should go next. I felt safe and taken care of the entire time.
When we got off of the bike, Ford unfastened my helmet for me then ran his fingers through my hair to smooth it down. Mostly, I suspected that he just liked touching my hair. When he took his helmet off, I returned the favor. His hair was silky soft as I tucked the strands behind his ears. His eyes closed halfway with pleasure at my touch. He leaned down and gave me a quick kiss.
"Are you hungry?" he asked as he grabbed my hand and led me toward the restaurant's entrance.
"I'm starving."
"Good. You're going to love this place." He smiled as we approached the door. "The inside is a little kitschy and dated, but the pizza is amazing." He opened the door for me and let me walk in ahead if him, still holding my hand.
The mouthwatering smell of baking pizza hit my nose, making my stomach growl immediately. Ford was right. The place was pretty tacky, with old red vinyl chairs and booths, and black-and-white checkered tile on the floor. The walls were covered with old pictures of Italy mixed in with knick-knacks and other gaudy decor. However, if the delicious smells coming from the kitchen were any indication, then I was in for a treat.
The place was crowded, but we got lucky as we snagged the last open booth in the back corner. I ordered a beer when the waitress came by, and Ford ordered a soda. We spent a few minutes looking at the menu, then ordered a thin-crust pepperoni pizza that Ford recommended.
I was suddenly uncomfortable after the waitress walked away. I realized that I knew very little about this man, even though our chemistry was off the charts. It was time to remedy that.
"I just realized that I don't even know your last name, Ford?" I said with a wry smile.
It's Spencer," he said with a laugh. "I suppose we should fill in some of the blanks between us. Huh?"
I nodded as my momentary discomfort faded away with his easygoing manner.
"I'll start." He leaned back and held my gaze. "I'm thirty-three. I have a twenty-eight-year-old sister, who has a four-week old nephew with my future brother-in-law. My mom is a wealthy socialite, and my dad is a lawyer. So yeah, I grew up with money, and I have a trust fund. I hope you won't hold that against me or turn into a gold-digger, because it's mostly tied up in my tattoo shop anyway." His smile was wry, but there was actual worry in his expressive eyes. "As you already know, I have a liberal arts degree. I've been tattooing for almost ten years now, and I've owned my own business for a little over three years. Oh, and I like motorcycles and women in tight black leather pants." He eyed me appreciatively as he waggled his eyebrows at me and grinned. He looked stunningly sexy.
I felt a slight blush creep across my cheeks at his compliment, which was totally unlike me. The effect he had on me was still surprising.
"My turn," I said with a smile as I leaned my elbows on the table. "I'm twenty-six. I have a twenty-nine-year-old brother who's happily and nauseatingly married. My father runs the auto dealership that's been in our family for three generations now. My mom is a freelance writer. We're not outrageously rich, but we've never been without anything we needed. I definitely don't hold anyone's wealth against them, and I have never been the least bit interested in gold-digging."
He smirked at that, and the slight worry in his eyes faded.
"I have a business degree, and I've been the business manager of Purcell Auto since I graduated several years ago. I work with my brother and my dad, which can be a real pain in the ass at times, but I love my job. And I have a tendency to drop my panties for gorgeous men with tattoos or motorcycles." I bit my lower lip and gave Ford a heated stare.
"Well, lucky me," he murmured in a sexy rumble. "I happen to have both. Maybe you'll drop your panties for me later."
"I'm sorry," I told him with an impish smile. "That's going to be impossible tonight."
"Oh?" he asked in surprise as one brow shot up. "And why is that?"
I leaned closer to him across the table with a conspiratorial expression. "Because I'm not wearing any panties."
His eyes dilated with sudden arousal, and his lips parted. "Did I mention I also have a thing for wild uninhibited women?"
"Oh yeah?" I snorted in amusement. What red-blooded straight man wouldn't be into
that? "How long have you been into women like that?" I asked sarcastically. It'd probably been since puberty.
He leaned closer and reached out to take my hand firmly in his and rubbed his thumb across the back of it softly. "About a week now." His sincere answer startled me into silence as the sarcastic comment that I thought I'd have to reply with evaporated right out of my head. I stared at him in astonishment, having no idea what to say. He merely held my gaze with a warm smile until the waitress showed up with our pizza. He let go of my hand, so she could set it on the table between us.
I was grateful for the interruption, because although I liked the way that Ford was looking at me, it still scared the shit out of me. It made me worry that I had gotten myself into something that I might not be able to handle.
Ford grabbed a plate and placed a slice of pizza on it, then handed it to me. I thanked him as he served himself. We both dug into our food, and I was delighted to discover it was indeed amazing, just like he'd said. We spent the rest of dinner laughing and teasing each other, the sexual innuendo getting more and more obvious. By the time we left, I was done wanting to ride Ford's bike and wanted to ride the man himself. Ford must have felt the same way, because he didn't ask me if I wanted to keep riding and took us straight back to my place.
I was struck with an attack of nerves as he pulled to a stop in front of my apartment. I rarely brought a man back here with me, and it kind of freaked me out. Was this moving faster than I was ready for?
When we got off the bike, Ford seemed distracted and pensive. It made me even more anxious. Was he having second thoughts about this? The deep stab of disappointment I suddenly felt, blew me away. I didn't want him to leave.
To my relief though, he followed me into my apartment and up the steps to my living room without a word, although, he did seem nervous. What the hell was going on with him? I was afraid to ask, so I offered him a beer as he slipped his leather jacket off and laid it over the arm of my couch.
"Sure," he said with an adorable lopsided smile that made my pussy clench with desire. I went to my small kitchen to get two beers from my fridge and came back to find him looking around the living room with a smile.
"So..." he began sardonically. "I take it that you like purple." He was staring at my gray sofa and its purple throw pillows. There was also a purple rug on the pale hardwood floor and a few pieces of art that had purple in them on the walls.
"Do you have a problem with that?" I asked bitingly, feeling self-conscious and not liking it.
"No, honey," he said as he took the beers in my hands and smiled warmly. "I'm just messing with you. I like your apartment. It suites you."
He set them both on my coffee table, then took my hand and led me over to the couch. He sat down and pulled me down into his lap, cuddling me close. A pensive look came over his face again; this time paired with trepidation. A flutter of fear swept through me. Was he calling it quits with me already? My disappointment at that thought startled me.
"Ford?" I asked in a subdued voice. "What's wrong?"
He let out a deep sigh before speaking. "I...I want to talk to you about something, but I don't want you to freak out or take it the wrong way."
"O...kay..." I said slowly, feeling confused and already freaked out.
"Shit, Jen," he blurted out when he saw my expression change to panic. "I'm going about this all wrong. I'm freaking you out already." He cupped my cheek in his hand gently. "I'm sorry. This is about me, not you."
I jerked my head back as I became immediately incensed. "Is this the part where you start the 'it's not you, it's me' speech?" I snapped out as I tried to get up out of Ford's arms, ready to kick his ass out of here.
"No, Jenny." He gripped me tighter in desperation. "That's not it at all. Please, just listen to me. This is something really personal, and I'm afraid that you'll think less of me, but it's important, and you need to know before this goes any further."
"Alright," I said in a tremulous voice, suddenly afraid to hear what he'd say next.
"Holy hell," he murmured in exasperation. "I'm fucking this all up." He clammed up, looking lost and unsure. I'd never seen him like that before, and I felt bad for him even as it continued freaking me out.
"Just...just tell me," I finally blurted out when I couldn't take it anymore.
"I'm...I'm into rope bondage." I stared at him speechlessly. He averted his eyes from mine with a pained expression. "I like tying women up for sex and dominating them. It's always consensual, and I'm not into pain or humiliation, but it's part of who I am, and something that I need. If it's...if it's something you can't handle, then I need to know now, before we take this any further."
That was not at all what I expected him to say. I thought he was going to tell me there was another woman or something even worse that would end our burgeoning whatever the hell this was. But this? This was something I could work with. It all made sense to me now. From his dominant personality during our first sexual encounter to how he had bossed me around and held my wrists last night. An image of Ford binding me and torturing me with orgasms flooded my mind, and my arousal was sudden and immediate. I'd been tied up for sex before, and I enjoyed it, but something told me that what Ford was talking about was on a whole other level. My breathing and heart rate spiked with excitement.
Unfortunately, Ford took it as me panicking again. His body deflated, and he had yet to meet my eyes since his confession. He lifted me off his lap and set me on the couch next to him. He stood and started moving toward the stairs that led to my front door.
"I'm sorry, Jen," he said in a subdued tone. "I didn't handle this right. I should have said something sooner, but I just didn't know how. I can't expect everyone to understand." That last part came out in a bitter tone that spoke of pain and hurt feelings. I wondered if this had happened to him before. It wasn't exactly a subject easily thrown into casual conversation, and confessing to something that private, and then being judged for it, couldn't be easy.
"Ford, wait," I finally called out as I stood. I couldn't let him leave. He turned to look at me with hope in his eyes. "Do...do scarves count as rope?"
"What?" he asked with a perplexed expression.
"I...I don't have any rope, but could you use a scarf to tie me up?"
His eyes widened in surprise, and immediately darkened with desire. He took several steps toward me, then paused as worry filled his eyes. "Jen, this isn't a game for me. It's something I need and crave. If you're just saying that to keep me from leaving, then this isn't going to work."
"Ford," I said firmly as I stepped up to him and put my hands on his powerful chest. "It's true. I am trying to keep you from leaving." His brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to speak again, but I put a finger on his lips, stopping him. "But I'm also so turned on by the idea of you tying me up, that I'm pretty sure my panties are soaked through."
His indigo eyes ignited into dark flames. His hands gripped my hips and pulled me closer, until his growing erection pressed into my belly. "I prefer using a silk scarf, if you've got one." His voice was a low commanding rumble that made my insides flutter with anticipation.
I bit my lower lip and nodded, unable to speak past the sheer lust that engulfed me. I thought Ford was sexy before, but now my desire for him morphed into a bone deep need that I couldn't deny even if I wanted to.
Suddenly, Ford swept me up into his arms with a growl and carried me across the apartment and into my bedroom. He set me down next to the bed and stepped back, his intense gaze pinning me where I stood as he crossed his arms. "Strip," he snarled out and my pussy clenched. Holy shit. I'd never reacted to a man like that before. I didn't even try to fight him. I didn't want to. I hastily tore my clothes off as Ford watched with ravenous eyes. When I finally managed to peel my leather pants off my legs, I stood in front of Ford taking harsh rapid breaths as my heart pounded away in my chest.
"Where are your scarves?" he asked in a tone that brooked no argument.
"Um...the top dresse
r drawer," I whispered as I pointed at my nearby dresser. His eyes narrowed in disapproval. He stepped closer and he gripped my chin in a firm grip, his thumb ghosting across my lower lip. My body shuddered then went slack at his touch, making his eyes light up with arousal.
"I'm going to be lenient since this is new for you," he rumbled out calmly. "But for future reference, you will call me 'sir' when you answer my questions. Understood?"
"Uh...uh...yes. I mean...um...yes, sir." I stammered out as I struggled to string a coherent thought together.
"Good girl," he crooned. "Stay right here."
I watched him turn and walk over to my dresser. He pulled his T-shirt off over his head. I stared longingly at the muscles coiling and moving under the massive tattoo on his back as he dug around in my drawer. It almost made the samurai and tiger look like they were alive and shifting across his skin. I was caught up and mesmerized until he turned back with a sapphire blue silk chiffon scarf in his hands. It was my favorite, and I thought it would be even more so after tonight. He came back to stand in front of me.
"If at any time you feel uncomfortable or need to stop, just tell me. Okay?" he said in a gently reassuring voice. "This is about pleasure, and I want to keep it that way."
"Yes, sir." I nodded jerkily as nerves began to jangle through my body.
"Jen," he murmured as he brushed the soft silk of the scarf down my nude body, making me shiver. "If this is too much, you need to tell me now. I won't hold it against you."
"I want this," I said breathily as my need became almost unbearable. "I...I need it...need you. Please, sir."
He reached up and cupped my face gently. His eyes studied me for a moment, then certainty filled his gaze, and he nodded once. He lifted the scarf and brought it around my neck.
"In rope bondage, and especially in the art of Japanese rope bondage called shibari, aesthetics is just as important as function," Ford explained in a sensual, yet soothing voice as he wrapped the silk around my neck and fastened it off into a collar. "The beauty of a bound woman moves me just as much as the act of binding her does. It's just as much art to me as my tattoos or drawings." He met my eyes. "Is that too tight?"
An Act of Restraint: Order & Chaos Book 1 Page 11
