“Face down, ass up, over my lap, cher.” He tacked the endearment on the end but the command in his voice made it clear he assumed my obedience.
He shouldn’t. Obedience wasn’t something I had much experience with, not that my body seemed to care. If the slick heat building between my thighs was any indication, my body was completely on board with thelet Ford take chargeplan.
It didn’t make positioning myself over his lap any less awkward. I propped myself on my elbows with my midriff hovering over his lap.
“Relax.” He pressed his palm on the small of my back, his touch firm but gentle as he settled me onto his thighs.
He ran his hand over the curve of my ass, and my whole body tensed in anticipation.
“Don’t tighten up. Staying rigid makes it hurt more. Pain isn’t the goal. Intense sensation-enhancing pleasure is.”
It was like listening to a BDSM TED talk with my naked ass playing the starring role. I’d laugh if it hadn’t been for his hand making slow, teasing circles, waking every inch of skin he touched. My body softened, and I let go of some of the tension in my shoulders, draping myself over his lap instead of holding myself stiff.
He ran his palm over me in long, slow strokes, his fingertips barely skimming the slick seam of my sex.
I arched my back, parting my legs slightly to try to get him to touch me where I wanted him most. I had a fraction of a second to register the absence of his touch before his palm landed on the fleshy part of my ass. The sting sucked my breath away, but it wasthe burn that followed that held me frozen in place. My first impulse was to tighten everything. And maybe bite Ford before launching myself off his lap. Instead, I inhaled, counting as I forced my body to relax.
“That’s it.” Ford murmured the words while resuming his teasing touch, dipping lower with each pass of his hands. His fingertips teased my sex and I stilled, resisting the urge to press back into his hand. “Perfect, cher.”
I had a moment to anticipate before his palm hit my ass again, two times in rapid succession. The burn was faster this time and my mind stuttered over my body’s response. It was a little like that moment of uncertainty when trying to decide whether something is freezing cold or burning hot without context clues. And then he did it again, two more times so fast I couldn’t do anything but feel and try not to squirm around on his lap.
He slid one hand around to cup my sex with a touch so deliciously possessive the only thing I was completely sure of was that I didn’t want him to stop. One hand toyed with my sex, thumb teasing my opening while his fingers slicked over my aching clit. The other hand kept a steady stroking touch on the curve of my ass. Both working together to make me aware of every sensation.
I felt the absence of his touch the moment before the burn. I thought I was ready, anticipating the sting before it came. I wasn’t. The instant his hand made contact, he pushed his thumb inside me and pressed tight circles over my clit with his fingers. He worked my sex, his thumb and fingers moving in tandem on my G-spot and clit as he kept up a steady stream of blows that turned the burn into something else. Something more.
“Breathe, Charlotte. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”
I tried to do what he asked, tried to breathe through the sensations overwhelming me, and then he tightened his grip on my sex. My body pulsed around the intrusion, my breath catching in my throat as his fingers kept up a steady pressure on my clit. The climax rolled me, radiating from the center of my body to every nerve ending Ford touched. There was no gradual build up. No anticipating the orgasm. No control. There was nothing but Ford’s hands and my pleasure. I cried out, tears filling my eyes, not from pain, but because my body couldn’t hold another thing. I was overflowing.
“That’s it. Give it to me.” Ford crooned a string of encouragements as his hands worked together, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from my body until there was nothing left.
He slid his hand free, and I collapsed against him, barely able to lift my head. Ford shifted position so he could pull me into his arms and cradle me against his chest. Thepress of his thighs against my ass stung but not enough for me to move. I rested my head against his chest, listening to his heart beat while I waited for my breath to come back to normal. The thick ridge of his cock wedged between us, but Ford didn’t seem to care about anything beyond taking care of me. He stroked my back and murmured words of praise with his lips pressed to the top of my head. Every part of me felt tingly and buzzy and so very good. I wanted to give him some of that too.
“I need to hold you, cher,” he said, tightening his grip as I shifted on his lap.
“I want that, but I need you.” I moved just enough to straddle his lap. Reaching between us, I wrapped my fingers around his cock, feeling it swell in my hand. “Condom?”
I wanted him desperately, but I still wasn’t quite ready to cross that last line. He grabbed a condom from the nightstand and sheathed himself. Lifting my hips, I positioned him at my opening and then I lowered onto him, taking him deep inside me. Rocking against him because it felt so good—so right—to be together like this.
“God, Charlotte. You feel so fucking perfect. I won’t last.”
“Don’t want you to. I want to feel you come. I need it.” I rocked my hips, taking him deeper.
His fingers gripped and dug into my hips as he thrust into me, fast and fierce, his head straining against my shoulder.
I felt the moment he let go, the few erratic strokes before the orgasm took him and his cock pulsed, emptying himself into me. It was primal and intimate in a way I hadn’t expected. And hadn’t known I wanted.
“ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT me here?” After Ford and I talked, I’d called to apologize to Alex for flipping out about the dress, but this was the first time we’d gotten together to do wedding stuff since.
“Elena can’t make it, Kindra’s got clients, and I need another opinion. Plus, it’s cake. Even you can handle tasting cake, and it’s not like you’re going to pitch a fit about Meredith’s prices.” She cut her eyes at me, and I could tell she was at least partly kidding. Of course, that meant she was partly serious too.
“Ouch. I deserve that. I do. And I really am sorry for the last time.” I was. I didn’t understand everything about why people wanted to get married yet, but my perspective had shifted. I could imagine partnering with someone if it was a real partnership. I still had trouble picturing how it might actually work. The possibility was unnerving. “It won’t happen again.”
She shook her head as if she doubted my sincerity—or at least my ability to follow through—but she smiled as we walked through the door of I Dough,Meredith’s bakery. Of course, that could have been because of the melted butter and toasted sugar scent that wrapped around us. It was impossible to inhale anything that delicious and not smile. Meredith carried the scent with her everywhere. As if she needed anything else to make her more lovable. She was lovely and the sweetest person I knew.
With the herringbone tile floor and distressed white display cabinets, the space felt likestepping into sweet French vanilla egg cream. Everything about it felt warm and welcoming. Like an elegant coming home. The script font on her sign was a pale robin’s-egg blue and there were details everywhere—from the pulls on the cabinets to the small iron bird place card holders in front of the trays of cupcakes—that made me think of birds’ nests. That fit Meredith perfectly too. I maybe judged her too hard for her romantic tendencies. They ran counter to my experience, and it had been easy to see them as somehow shallow or unrealistic. I was wrong.
Of all of us, I think she was the one who wanted a nest. That idea of a safe, cherishing place to build something. There was nothing shallow or frivolous about that impulse. It made me smile to realize how much of it my beautiful, skilled friend had created for herself.
