“Oh, God.” The two words are one drawn-out sound as I prop myself up on my elbows to watch him unravel me with licks of his tongue and his fingers tucking inside of me.
It’s erotic. It’s sexy. It’s damn near sensational. His eyes meet mine from above my mound as he circles my clit with his tongue while his fingers pump in and out of me.
My body coils with each touch, with each lick, with each puff of air he blows on my most intimate flesh.
I tug on his hair and his face lifts with evidence of what he’s doing to me glistening on his chin and mouth. “Take me. Now. Please.” I pant the words out. Begging. Asking. Demanding.
His chuckle is all I need to know he’s ready and wanting too. I yelp when his hand connects with my hypersensitized pussy. The little smack unexpected but so fucking hot that I almost come right then. Right there.
But before my system recovers, Ford is pushing his way into me like a man on a mission.
And I won’t complain about that.
He begins to move once I adjust to the fullness. Slow, steady strokes that penetrate deep within me when he leans over and captures my mouth with his. His tongue moving in time with his thrusts.
My nails scrape down the sides of his torso as my body climbs higher and higher. As the ball of desire constricts tighter and tighter.
“Come on, baby,” he murmurs against my lips before straightening up. He leaves one hand on my shoulder to hold me in place as he begins to pound into me.
Sensations overwhelm.
Bliss mounts.
Desire detonates into the best kind of devastation.
The coil releases as my cry echoes through the empty room while a tidal wave of pleasure pulls me under. I’m swamped in every way imaginable, the orgasm powerful with both its sensation and sensitivity.
“There you go,” he whispers as he moves ever so slowly in and out of me, his thumb rubbing over my clit to help coax the remainder of my climax out of me.
I tighten around him. Over and over and over. My body’s spent and soaring all at the same time.
And it’s those little pulses around him that bring him to the edge. His groan is feral as he begins fucking me with a fervor and an urgency.
His fingers dig into my flesh. His thighs slap against mine. His cock works me in and out until he can’t withstand it any longer.
“Ellery,” he groans, the walls virtually shaking at the reverberation of the orgasm that slams into and through him.
He looks like a Greek god between my thighs. Head thrown back. Adam’s apple pronounced. Shoulders tense. Lips lax.
And I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything sexier.
I don’t think I ever will again.
He collapses on top of me, our bodies misted with sweat, my shirt that’s still on dampened from it. He rests his forehead on my collarbone and rocks it back and forth.
“Good God, woman.” He presses a kiss between my breasts. “Good fucking God.”
I run a hand through his hair, reveling in the feeling of our hearts pounding against one another’s. In our chests moving in unison.
“Should I take that as a compliment?” I tease as I twist a strand of his hair around my finger.
“Mm-hmm. Mistakes. They’re a beautiful thing, aren’t they?”
“Only when it comes to you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Ford
Twenty-Six Years Ago
The world seesaws back and forth with every push of her foot on the porch. The swing creaks with the motion, and if I close my eyes, I feel like I’m spinning in space. But the smell of the barbecue and the sound of my brothers playing Marco Polo in the pool bring me back to earth before I can even pretend.
My mom’s fingers play absently with the back of my neck.
“Please don’t tell Dad I cried.”
“Ford. There’s no shame in showing your emotions.” I look over to my mom and shrug. Her brownish-blonde hair is pulled back in a ponytail and her brown eyes hold mine.
“I’m a boy. Boys don’t cry.”
“That’s nonsense and you know it.”
“Dad says men shouldn’t show their emotions.” I sniffle.
“You want me to tell you a secret?” she asks, and I nod. “I’ve seen Dad cry before.”
“Yeah. Right.” I roll my eyes. There’s no way.
“I’m serious. I can remember the times clearly. The day we got married. He teared up when he saw me coming down the aisle. He was in front of hundreds of people, but he didn’t care. He said it was because he knew how lucky he was getting to spend his life with me.”
Yuck. Love stuff doesn’t count.
“That’s once.”
“And I remember the day you three were born.” I love the look on her face. I don’t know what it means, but she looks happy. Like when she was holding her friend’s baby and making that weird humming sound as she rocked her. “You were all in bassinets lined up next to each other in the hospital room. He stood in front of you with this look on his face I’ll never forget. Love. Pride. Disbelief. Like you were his everything and his greatest accomplishment all rolled into one. He was crying then too.”
“Did you cry then?”
“Of course, I did. It was one of the happiest days of my life.”
“Do you think it was his?”
“I know it was.” She ruffles my hair. “Now do you want to tell me what else is on your mind other than Ledger being mean to you? Because you’re moping around here today and it’s not because of him.”
“Just thinking is all.”
“Does that have anything to do with why you aren’t out there playing with your brothers?”
Another shrug as she pushes to keep the swing moving. “Maybe.”
“Okay.” She gives that slow nod of her head that says she’s listening. If it’s a sharp nod, you’re in trouble. If it’s slow, it means she’s ready for you to talk to her.
But I don’t know if I want to talk.
The summers in Sag Harbor are my favorite. There’s the beach and sailing and playing anywhere and everywhere so long as we’re home by the time the sky is dark.
“Is it your brothers? Are they picking on you again?”
“Nah.”
“Then what is it?”
“I read something that bugged me is all.”
“About?” She shifts so she can put her arm around me and pull me against her. She smells like the lemons she was just picking from the lemon tree and the soap she was washing them with in the sink.
I pluck at the legs of my shorts as she sits patiently like we have all the time in the world. And I know we don’t. My dad needs her. Ledger and Callahan probably do too. But she never makes me feel that way. She always gives me time like I’m the only one in the world.
“About Dad.”
Another slow nod. “What about him?”
“About how he’s roofless.”
Her laugh is loud, and she stifles it when I look at her with confusion. “I think it said ruthless, honey. Clearly, we aren’t roof-less,” she says and points to the ridiculously large house at our backs.
“Yeah. Okay. That’s what I meant.”
“What else did it say?”
“Just stuff.” It’s easier to study my fingers than meet her eyes.