Page 4 of Texting the Enemy

“No, I-I can’t fight you,” she gasps, her fingers tightening on the arms of the chair, her hands so close to mine that it takes all my self-control not to grab her. “Ford, what are you doing? You can’t be serious.”

“You’re the one that said it, Faith,” I remind her, smirking down at her. “Don’t know whether to fight me or fuck me, right? So, what’s it going to be?”

“Look, I’m sorry about the text. It was meant for my best friend, and I know it was completely unprofessional and ridiculous, but God, you just get under my skin, Ford,” Faith rushes to say, far more flustered than I’ve ever seen her. It’s fascinating watching that carefully crafted professionalism falter, and I want to see everything underneath. I want to strip her down and see her at her most bare, see her shuddering and speechless and defenseless for me.

I want to make her mine.

“So, not fighting then,” I muse, leaning closer, so close that her breath puffs against my lips. I want to taste her so badly it hurts.“That leaves us with one other option, baby.”

“Ford…” she whispers, trembling now. Her plush lips are parted with those uneven breaths, and she’s leaning towards me now a little, arching towards me like she craves this just as much as I do.

“Tell me no, then, Faith,” I challenge. I want this, I want her, but if she doesn’t want it, then I’ll force myself to walk away. Her consent matters more than anything to me.

I wait a beat, tension hanging heavy between us, giving her time to tell me no, to stop this completely.

But Faith presses her lips together, trapping any words in, refusing to back down like always.

My stubborn little angel.

“Ah, I see,” I whisper, my lips skimming hers with every low word. “So it’s ‘fuck’ then.”

At that word, Faith shudders, a full-body shiver that makes me groan. I need to have her. I suddenly can’t stand another second when I’m not touching her.

She gasps as I pounce, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her close to me. Her arms and legs wrap around me instinctively, the position pressing her core to the aching length of my cock. Even through our clothes, I can feel her heat.

Our mouths crash together as I set her on the table, the height perfect for her to keep her legs wrapped around my waist. One of my hands is on her thigh, the other tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck, angling her so I can deepen the kiss.

Her tongue strokes against mine, and I groan deep in my chest at the taste of her. Mint and something sweet, uniquelyFaith. She whimpers so prettily against me when I nip her bottom lip, and I swallow the sound hungrily.

She squirms against me, and I rock my hips forward, both of us mindlessly seeking friction, seeking contact, seeking more.

I need to know if she’s as desperate for this as I am, if she’s wet and needy for me, if she’d be as hot and soft against my touch as I imagine she is.

“Tell me I can touch you,” I groan against her mouth, my hand wandering up her thigh, squeezing the soft flesh. “I need to make you come, baby.”

She whimpers, her hips shifting as my hand skims closer to where she wants me.

“Yes,” she whispers back breathily. “Touch me.”

I don’t waste a single second. I slide my hand up her skirt, her skin so fucking soft and warm beneath my palm. My fingers drag over her center, feeling the damp fabric of her panties that separate me from paradise.

“Oh baby, you’re soaked,” I say, lust filling me completely. “So needy for me.”

“Ford, please,” Faith gasps as I tease her through her underwear.

“You beg so pretty for me.”

I give her exactly what she wants, pushing the wet fabric to the side and slipping two fingers into her wet heat.

We moan in sync, her from the pleasure of being filled, me from the feeling of her wrapped around my fingers. My cock is rock hard, straining against my pants, begging to be surrounded by her.

But not yet. This is about Faith. About showing her just how good I can make her feel, how good I can look after her.

I fuck her with my fingers while she squirms and gasps. It’s obvious she’s trying to keep quiet, and though logically, I knowwe should be trying to stay quiet and avoid being caught, logic went out the window the second Faith sent that text. I want her screaming my name, moaning loud for me, but instead I press my free hand over her mouth and feel her gasp into my palm.

My thumb finds her clit, and her eyes fall closed, her hips moving with me as she chases her pleasure.

“Come all over my hand, baby,” I growl.

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