Page 7 of Texting the Enemy

Ford pins me with a stare that makes my panties wet instantly. “Put your purse away,” he states, enunciating every word.

I blink. “Why would I do that?” I challenge, rising to the bait. “I’m paying my half.”

Ford laughs. Laughs! “Oh baby,” he croons, leaning closer to me and making the rest of the restaurant fade into nothingness around us. “It’s a good thing you’re a quick learner because if you try to pay for anything when you’re with me ever again, you won’t be able to sit for a week.”

I’m at a loss for words, shocked. Recovering as quickly as I can, I argue back, “I’m an independent woman, Ford. I can affordmy half of dinner. I’m not some little girl you have to buy pretty things for.”

Ford’s eyes gleam. “I know you’re independent,” he says, voice low and hypnotizing. “I don’t doubt your strength for a damn second. But I asked you out, so I am going to buy you dinner. That’s that.”

He leaves me absolutely no room to continue arguing back, and I can’t deny the rush of warmth that spreads through me when he shows his dominant side like this. I do my best to hide how flustered I am, purely because I don’t want him to think he’s got the upper hand here—I’ve spent weeks establishing myself as a force to reckon with, after all—but Ford smirks and raises a brow at me, and I know he sees right through my hastily adorned facade.

He pays and then pulls out my seat for me, taking my hand in his as we walk out. I don’t want this date to be over, don’t want this night to be over. Now that Ford’s shown me who he really is, I want to discover every aspect of him.

“Come back to mine,” I say, looking up at him as we emerge into the cool evening air.

Ford pauses, tugging me closer to him so I’m pressed against his chest, not an inch between us. My blood heats rapidly, and need explodes through me as I remember his touch earlier in the meeting room.

“If I come back to yours, I’m claiming you as mine,” Ford growls, the words both a threat and a promise. If they’re meant to make me hesitate, however, they have the opposite effect. “Make sure that’s what you want, Faith, because I’ll never let you go.”

I don’t even pause to think about it. “Yes,” I breathe, need soaking the word. “That’s what I want, Ford. Claim me. Make me yours.”

Within seconds, he bundles us both into the car and floors it back to my place. Adrenaline and excitement bubble through me, and my thighs clench together as desire builds between them.

The second we get back to mine, the tension between us explodes. I don’t know which one of us moves first, but our lips crash together, and Ford’s hands grip my thighs and lift me so I’m straddling his waist.

“Bedroom’s down the hall on the right,” I mumble against his mouth, not willing to break the kiss fully just to give him the information. Ford tightens his hold on me, large hands cupping my ass and holding me tight to him as he makes quick work of navigating through my home toward the bedroom.

He lowers me to the bed on my back, following the movement with his body so he’s braced over me. I moan against his mouth, bordering on desperate for him and too turned on to feel even the slightest bit embarrassed about it.

My dress rides up between us, his belt buckle catching on the fabric and exposing the black lace of my thong. Ford breaks the kiss with a low groan that goes straight to my core, making me squirm.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

His hands skate up my thighs, thumbs stroking against the sensitive flesh on my inner thigh. Instead of touching where I need him most, he finds the zipper of my dress and drags it down, the sound of metal teeth unfastening loud over ourfast breaths. I sit up a little so he can peel the dress off me, satisfaction blooming through me at the way his pupils grow, black engulfing the green of his eyes as he takes me in. I thank my past self for choosing a nice matching lingerie set to wear underneath.

Ford’s gaze is like a physical touch as it traces over my face, down to my chest, stomach, and hips. “I’ve never seen anything more fucking perfect in my life,” he praises, and I can’t help the little whimper that slips past my lips at his compliment.

“Ford,” I breathe, struggling to get out any word except his name. “I need you.”

Ford smirks, one finger tracing the lace at the edge of my bra and making me keen again. “I’ll give you everything you want, baby,” he promises, and I think I might have died and gone to heaven. Between his teasing touches and words, I’m burning up.

Ford’s lips skim over my neck, sucking on my pulse point, and some part of me desperately hopes he leaves a mark despite how annoying it would be to have to cover it with concealer for work. I want him to mark me, to claim me the way he promised, inside and out. I want to be his.

With one hand, he unclasps my bra, and then his mouth is on me again, nipping and licking sensitive skin. I spiral into a cloud of desire, wrapped up in the sensation of him. I claw at his shirt, fumbling with the buttons, needing to feel his skin on mine. He helps, shrugging the shirt off and throwing it to the floor, and my hands drop to his belt. I can already feel the outline of his length, long and hard, straining against the fabric, and my core flutters with anticipation.

With some more fumbling and help from Ford, he’s stripped down to nothing but his underwear, just like me. I drink in the sight of him in nothing but boxers, the carved outlines of the muscles on his chest and abs, the defined shape of his biceps and thighs, every inch of him more mouthwatering than I even imagined. Finally, my eyes catch on his cock, and I reach for him, slipping my hand beneath his waistband. He hisses through his teeth as my fingers stroke him slowly, finding this part of him just as damn perfect as the rest of him. Truly, it’s unfair how hot this man is. I mean, how is a girl supposed to cope?

“Faith,” he pants as I tug his underwear down so his cock springs free. Suddenly, I need to taste him more than I need air, and I shuffle closer to take him in my mouth. “Fuck!”

I’d smile if my mouth weren’t so full, loving the way he reacts to me. He’s so big I struggle to take all of him, but I give it my best shot. He cradles the back of my head, not pushing or controlling, just holding like he can’t bear not to be touching me. I swallow around him, and his jaw ticks as he grinds his teeth together, muscles straining for control. He tugs me away, and I begin to pout at him in protest before he says,

“If you keep going, I’m gonna fill your pretty little throat up instead of your perfect pussy,” he says, and I lose my breath at the filthy words. “Unless you want me to wear a condom.”

“Fuck no,” I answer immediately, then hurry to add, “I’m clean and on birth control. I want you to fill me up.”

Ford curses under his breath and then consumes me with a kiss, sending me spiraling all over again. His hand goes to my underwear, and I expect him to drag them off me, but instead, he fists the fabric at the side and tugs until it rips. I gasp as the ruined panties fall away.

“I’ll buy you a new set,” he murmurs against my lips. Then he touches me, and I can’t find any words to answer him even if I tried.

---