by Roz Lee
The audience rose to their feet—all except the two of them—as the band segued into another of their fast-paced hit songs. Becky jerked, the vibrations almost painful after her intense orgasm. Ford chuckled. Shifting her slightly, he reached into his jacket pocket. She welcomed the ensuing calm between her legs, but on the other hand, her body craved the stimulation. She clenched her thighs, savoring the last lingering internal spasms.
“Better?” Ford asked.
Unwilling to trust her voice, she nodded against his shoulder. She didn’t seem to have a solid bone in her body, but the man holding her seemed to be granite from his chest to his thighs supporting her. The thick ridge of his erection gouged her hip—a reminder he’d given, not taken. He held her through two more songs she barely heard for the warnings clamoring in her head. She wanted so much more from this man, but even though he claimed he wouldn’t sell his and his mother’s share of the company, he hadn’t said anything about staying in Texas. She’d foolishly fallen in love with him. Spending more time in his bed would only make his leaving worse, but if he asked, she wouldn’t turn him down.
Holding her in his lap while she came down from what had appeared to be an intense orgasm was Heaven and Hell. He had her right where he wanted her, in his arms, but he couldn’t do the things he wanted to do to her, with her, in the middle of a concert. If anyone had noticed her behavior earlier, they’d given no indication—save Roseanne and Scott who’d picked up the cues early on and had the decency to look away.
“Is she okay?” Roseanne mouthed.
“Fine,” he silently answered.
Becky Jean’s friend smiled her understanding. Ford made some hand gestures he hoped conveyed his intention to get them out of there. Roseanne wiggled her fingers in a good-bye gesture, so he figured the message had been received. Scott caught his gaze, leaned in so his date could speak into his ear. He lifted his head again and nodded.
With his intentions known to their friends, he shifted Becky Jean so she could hear him. “Can you walk?”
She looked up at him, confusion marring her features.
“I want to take you someplace private,” he said into her ear.
“Okay,” she said with a nod.
“Think you can walk out of here?”
Another nod then she stood. Roseanne tugged on the hem of his coat. He turned, and she handed him Becky Jean’s small purse. He smiled his thanks, then with a hand on the small of her back, he followed Becky Jean past the others in their row. Once they’d cleared the theater doors, he took over, guiding her through the casino to the bank of elevators that would take them to their rooms. He paused before pushing the call button. “Unless you’d like a drink?”
She’d worn the vibrator of her own free will, but he’d been the one to force her orgasm. The least he could do would be to offer her the opportunity to slow things down—or heaven forbid—say no. When she shook her head and nodded to the button, his lungs began to work again.
If she’d said no, he would have respected her wishes, but it would have cost him to do it. Nothing short of burying his cock inside her would ease the ache in his groin. She was so damn beautiful, and fuck, he loved to watch her come. He would have nail marks in his arm from where she’d clung to him earlier. Did it make him a bastard to be proud of the marks she’d put on him in the throes of passion? If it did, he’d wear the label.
The doors opened, and, luckily, they were the only ones to enter the car. As soon as the doors closed, he backed her into the corner and switched on the device.
“Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you?” he asked, letting his invention translate his words into action. He traced the line of her jaw with the knuckle of his index finger then stroked his thumb over her quivering bottom lip. He didn’t expect a verbal answer. Instead, he watched her breath hitch and her eyelids flutter shut. He pressed his hips into hers, letting her feel what she did to him.
“I’ve wanted you since you opened your door this evening looking like a goddess.” He paused, adjusted to better feel the vibrations. Satisfied with the new position, he continued. “Your sexy leg sticking out of the slit in the skirt—taunting me.” His fingers found her bare thigh. He slipped his hand beneath the heavy fabric to caress her skin. “So hot. So soft. I want to see you… every last inch of you.”
Damn. He ground his teeth together and canted his hips away from her. He’d had no idea how powerful his toy could be. If he kept this up much longer, he would make himself come! He made a mental note to have the technical writing department add this position to the instruction sheet to be included with each device then focused on his goal—making his woman come.
His woman. He liked the sound of that. In all his years, he’d never wanted to possess a woman the way he wanted to possess this one. So prim and proper in public, she let loose in bed, and damn if he didn’t want to be the last man to ever see her do it.
He ground against her again, slid the hand he’d slipped under her dress around to cup her butt. “I want to taste you.” He squeezed her ass cheek. “I want to take a bite out of your ass, mark you as mine.”
Becky Jean moaned, and the sound translated into vibration nearly sent him over the edge. He backed away once more, this time promising himself he’d stay away until they got to his room. Then all bets were off.
The car came to a stop. He glanced over his shoulder, noted the floor display. Reaching into his pocket, he managed to turn the vibrator off a split second before the doors slid open to admit two couples dressed for a night on the town. They pushed the button for the rooftop lounge. Ford snaked an arm around Becky Jean’s waist and pulled her in close. When the elevator stopped at their floor, he steered her past the rowdy bunch and toward his room.
“You’re a wicked man, Ford Adams.” Hearing the laughter behind her words, he tossed the keycard on the nearest flat surface then turned to the woman who had made him rethink everything in his life from where he wanted to live to what he wanted out of life. He’d never cared much for the plight of others, but Becky Jean’s insistence on hiring local had opened his eyes to the way his decisions affected other people’s lives. She made him want to be a better person. She made him want. Period.
“I’ve never claimed to be anything else,” he said, stalking her. She took a step back—a halfhearted attempt to get away, at best. He stopped an arm’s length from her and smiled. “Admit it, you had fun tonight.”
Her face flushed with color, and her lips parted as she prepared to deny the truth.
“Turn around,” he said, spinning his finger in the air. “I need to see you.”
Her gaze met his for a second—long enough for him to see she wanted to continue what they’d started as much as he did. Then she showed him her back. He stepped in behind her and brushed her hair over one shoulder. “Where the hell is the zipper?”
“Oh! Here.” She lifted her arm and pointed to the tiny tab. “Sorry. I forgot.”
“No problem.” He’d planned on nibbling his way down her spine, but this had possibilities. He grasped the zipper pull and tugged it down until it bottomed out just past the curve of her hip. He caught a glimpse of creamy skin and the band of the panties he’d sent her—and nothing else. Damn, she knew how to do sexy. He slid his hand into the gap in the fabric just below her rib cage, his palm finding soft, warm skin at the small of her back. As he guided her around to face him and took her lips with his, he instantly became a fan of side zippers.
Cupping the back of her head in his free hand, he explored the hills and valleys of her ass with the other. Becky Jean groaned and melted against him which he took as permission to continue his exploration. He’d had his hands beneath dresses before, but there was something sneaky and exciting about slipping in from the side. Like he’d found a secret entrance no one else knew about. Fuck, why didn’t every dress have one of these?
Needing air, he dragged his lips from hers but continued to nibble along her jaw. Fingers still entwined in her hair, he
tugged her head to the side. He kissed his way down the slope of her neck, loving the way her pulse beat out a wild rhythm, matching his own. He couldn’t resist. He opened wide and bit. Not hard enough to mar her perfect skin, but hard enough to get her attention.
“Oh god. Ford.” The breathless way she said his name had to be one of the hottest things he’d ever heard in his life. He bit her again, lower this time. She moaned and arched her back so her breasts pressed hard against his chest. He used his chin to scootch the strap of her dress off her shoulder. It slid down and caught on his forearm. He proceeded to kiss and nibble his way south to the tender swell of flesh. Using his teeth, he tugged the fabric lower. Lower. Her scent, magnified by the heat of her body, filled his nostrils as he slowly, slowly, revealed the top of her breast. Then the areola. Then his upper lip skimmed her nipple, and he lost it.
“Fuck, Becks.” He grabbed at the dress again with his teeth—captured it and yanked like a beast tearing at the skin of a carcass to get to the meat underneath. The instant her breast popped free of the confining cloth, he attacked, nipping at her beauty, licking, and finally sucking the hardened nub into his mouth.
He couldn’t get enough of her. Couldn’t get close enough to sate his need. Savage. He knew it but couldn’t stop. Yanking on her hair, he bent her over the arm banded around her waist. Her fingernails digging into his scalp were matches thrown on the bonfire raging inside him. Her breathless pleas, “God. Please. Ford. Need. You,” were giant-assed logs that incinerated the last vestiges of his control.
He couldn’t wait another minute to have her.
Pulling her upright, he took another second to admire the feel of her skin beneath the beaded dress. He’d made a mess of her hair, but what utterly destroyed him was the sight of her breast, bared for him while the rest of her remained perfectly clothed. “God, Becks. I’ve never seen…. You take my breath away.”
“Ford.”
Need. It rang in his ears, broke the spell she’d cast over him. He mentally clicked the shutter on the picture before him. Knew it would forever be burned on his brain, and no matter what happened between them in the future, he’d treasure this moment. This memory. “Take that dress the fuck off.”
The shrug of a shoulder. A hip wiggle and it fell into a pool of midnight and glittering stars around her ankles. She wore the panties he’d given her and some kind of strappy sandals with heels a mile high, making her legs look longer than fuck. He had things he wanted to do to her with those panties, but they could wait. He needed to be inside her. No gimmicks. No toys. Nothing but her and him and whatever the fuck he was feeling.
“Off.” He pointed at her crotch. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband and, with another hip shimmy, added the panties to the pile at her ankles.
He made a conscious effort to breathe as he gazed at the woman before him. The scent of her arousal, heavy on the air, nearly brought him to his knees. His heart kicked and his dick throbbed, anxious to get out of the starting gate. He reached for his belt buckle.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
How can it take so long to unbuckle a belt?
Becky’s gaze followed Ford’s hands, silently willing him to move faster. A minute ago, he’d been a wild animal, tearing at her clothes, biting her, sucking her flesh hard enough to extract the marrow from her bones. He’d switched to slow motion. She didn’t know how much longer she could remain upright.
She’d been in a constant state of arousal since the moment he’d activated the vibrator in her panties in the vestibule of the restaurant. Granted, the orgasm during the concert had taken the edge off, but the reprieve hadn’t lasted long. The elevator ride had put her body back to square one. She hurt. Actually hurt with her need to have him inside her.
Muscle memory. Her pussy knew the shape and size of him. Knew the delicious stretch as he entered her. Knew the regret as he slid back out. Thrilled at the anticipation of feeling the stretch as he filled her again. And had ached for it every minute of every day, it seemed.
“Let me.” Carefully stepping free of her clothes, she approached, searched his eyes for a sign of the beast she craved tonight and found it. There. Leashed but straining against his cage. Holding his gaze, her fingers found the button in the center of his chest. He froze. Becky popped the fastener free then went to work on the next one. And the next, until the fabric parted. She flattened her palms on his abdomen, traced the lines of his six-pack. “You’re wearing too many clothes, Kinky.”
He smirked at the nickname he’d been given by one of the reporters who had interviewed him earlier in the year. Becky turned her hands, brushed her knuckles over his flat nipples. A shiver racked his body, and he sucked in a harsh breath, but he made no attempt to stop her. Her fingers skimmed lower, into the waistband of his slacks. It took nothing to release the hook closure. Less to slide the zipper down.
She read the warning in his eyes— Don’t poke the animal. Too late… she already had her hand inside his boxers.
“Becks.” His eyelids dropped, a muscle ticked in his clenched jaw. He groaned and rocked into her hand. Once. Twice. “Goddamnit, Becks.” His fingers manacled her wrist. His eyes popped open. “Stop.”
She knew she should heed the warning, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. For whatever reason, she needed it wild tonight. No holding back. Hot. Messy. Maybe brutal. Sex. She wrapped her fingers around his cock and squeezed.
The beast broke free, took her to the floor. She opened for him, but not far enough to please him. He wrenched her knees up and out. Held her there. With a feral growl, he bent and buried his face in her pussy. The scent of arousal, hers and his, wrapped around them. Becky threw her hands over her head, sought an anchor to ground her as he took her up and up toward a pinnacle higher than she’d ever climbed before. As frightening as it was, as hard as she knew she’d fall, she needed to fly off that cliff. Needed Ford to push her over the edge. No one else. Just him. Always him.
He took her relentlessly. As if he sensed her need, he feasted on her, bruising with his tongue, scraping her tender flesh with his teeth. Her body belonged to him. The beast controlled her, positioned her where he wanted, took what he wanted—and gave her what she needed.
She felt like one of those giant slingshots being stretched back. Back. Back. Every muscle in her body ached under the strain. For what seemed like an eternity, she froze in limbo. Wound too tight to let go. Wound too tight to remain still. Then he speared his tongue inside her, and the carnality of the act snapped her hold on reality.
The world she knew ceased to exist. She flew into the unknown on the wings of the most explosive orgasm of her life where pain and pleasure became one. Yet still she reached for something… something more.
Then he was there, blanketing her with his warmth, his strength—filling her. “Ford!” She rode the wave with him until neither one could stop the tide. They came together in a breathless rush. Becky held on to his broad shoulders and wished the night would never end.
~~~
With a smile, Becky greeted everyone who stopped at their booth, handing out the KeyP Me Safe keychain/flashlight/vibrators they’d brought along as giveaways. Somehow, she managed to answer the questions coming her way, but with Ford standing a few feet away, thinking about anything other than the night before proved damn near impossible. More than once, he’d stepped in to fill in the blanks where her brain had failed her.
The convention was their first opportunity to network with the various retailers who stocked their products. Since Adams Manufacturing had launched their own sales platform—going into direct competition with them—maintaining a good relationship with them had to be a priority. They’d lost a few with the move into direct sales, but not all. She had a plan to bring the others back into the fold with discounted advertising on their Adult Shopping Network and the promise of exclusive product launches.
But it required her complete concentration on business—something she could not even pretend to do with Ford so near. Whe
n he whipped out a sample of his latest invention to show to a potential new client, she excused herself and went in search of someplace she could be alone. It turned out to be a stall in the ladies’ room, where she closed her eyes and gave in to the memories tugging at her mind and her heart.
After screwing like mad on the floor, Ford had carried her to bed where he’d finished undressing then returned to the other room to retrieve her panties. Wearing nothing but a wicked smile, he slipped them back on her. Product testing, he’d said as he searched his phone. A few seconds later, music spilled from a small, portable speaker on the nightstand.
He removed the lapel-pin microphone and the wireless control box from his coat and set them on the nightstand before crawling in bed with her.
“I downloaded this music just for this,” he’d said. Then he’d turned the device on.
Tears threatened as she recalled the way he’d touched and kissed her while the music played low in the background, converted to a tactile sensation between her legs by his invention. Then, when she didn’t think she could take any more, he’d pushed the crotch of the panties to one side and entered her. It had been the complete opposite of their frenzied coupling on the floor, and where the first time had wrecked her physically, the slow, sensual mating to the strains of a symphony orchestra shattered her.
She couldn’t even pretend to deny it any longer. She was in love with K. Ford Adams—the kinky bastard. He liked to pretend he didn’t care about anything but the bottom line, but she’d seen another side of him.
The new HR department answered to her, so the day Ford had walked in and asked which employees had been there the longest, she heard about it. They day he called them all together and handed them bonus checks—drawn from his personal account—she heard about it.
