Page 50

50

HARPER

M y breaths rasp in and out of my mouth, unsteady, as I lie on the bed, naked, vulnerable, and handcuffed to the bedpost.

Ford is between my legs, his tongue swirling over my clit, drowning me in pleasure.

I bite my lip, desperate to keep the sounds locked inside, knowing if he hears them, he’ll stop again.

The sun has long set, and Ford, during one of his many tormenting, drawn-out edging sessions, calmly got up and turned on the bedside lamp.

No urgency.

No rush.

Like he had all the time in the world to ruin me.

Other than that, the house is shrouded in darkness— just like him.

My heart pounds against my ribcage, trying to break free.

I squirm, a costly mistake.

Ford stills.

His dark gaze flicks up, locking onto mine.

A slow, knowing smile spreads across his face.

Son of a bitch.

He knows I’m about to come.

A tiny whimper betrays me.

He places featherlight kisses along my inner thigh, his breath warm, his touch gentle.

Too gentle.

Then he pulls away completely.

“Dammit,” I breathe, frustration clawing through me.

Ford chuckles low, dragging it out just to piss me off.

“One more time, wife.” His tongue flicks out, teasing the dip of my belly button. “I want to hear it again.”

My muscles lock up.

I know what he wants.

“Tell me about looking into Jeffrey’s eyes while you were riding my dick outside the restaurant.”

My hand clenches into a fist, anger slamming into me with the force of a wrecking ball.

I jerk my arms, the cuffs biting into my wrists, but they hold firm.

Just like him.

“Why?” I grit out. “I already told you. Twice. Yet, you still haven’t let me come.”

Shame barrels through me.

I hate the whining edge to my voice, but I can’t stop it.

Ford’s grin is pure, unrepentant sin.

“Yet, you didn’t tell me about it.” He cocks his head, a predator considering his prey. “Very troubling, wife.”

Rage swims through my bloodstream, searing hot. “I’m not your wife,” I snap.

Oh, fuck.

The second the words leave my lips, I know I’ve fucked up.

I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for whatever punishment he has planned.

A beat of silence.

Then, a click.

My eyes fly open as Ford unlocks one cuff.

Then the other.

For a second, I think I’ve won.

That he’s backing down.

Then, he moves.

Lightning fast.

Before I can process what’s happening, he flips me onto my stomach, twisting my wrists behind my back.

A sharp gasp rips from my throat as he drags me onto my knees, his grip unyielding.

“Oh, Harper,” he murmurs, amusement laced with dark promise. “Such a naughty girl.”

I barely get a second to catch my breath before the head of his cock rubs against my entrance.

My body betrays me.

Wet, needy, shaking.

Ford chuckles.

He knows.

Then, he thrusts deep inside me.

I scream from the sudden stretch, the overwhelming mix of pain and pleasure hitting all at once.

“Fuck,” he rasps, his teeth grazing my shoulder. “Your pussy is soaked .”

I blink back tears, fighting to keep my walls up, to resist the pull of him.

But he knows every part of me.

Every weakness.

Every button to press.

He plays my body like a finely tuned instrument, forcing pleasure from me whether I want it or not.

“That’s it, baby.” His hips snap forward, brutal and precise. “Fuck, you look so fucking beautiful taking my cock.”

A ragged sob tears from my throat.

Pleasure crashes over me like a tidal wave.

“You wanna come around my cock, baby?” His voice is a dark, wicked taunt.

“Y-Yes.” My face is wet with tears. “Ford, please, yes.”

He doesn’t slow down. “Did you tell me everything about that asshole we killed?”

My head jerks up.

“Yes,” I gasp. “I promise.”

Ford grins against my skin. “Will you ever keep secrets from me again?”

I shake my head so fast, my vision blurs. “No! I promise, I won’t.”

He slams deeper.

Harder.

More punishing.

“Am I your husband?”

The orgasm builds like a wildfire, flames licking at my skin, consuming me.

My body shakes violently. “Yes. You’re my husband, Ford.”

His grin is feral. “Then come on my cock, wife.”

I explode.

The force of my orgasm is so brutal, I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything except scream his name.

But he’s not done.

“Nuh-uh, baby.” Ford grips my hair, dragging my back to his chest. “Now, I’m gonna make you come again.”

I whimper, too sensitive, too wrecked—too fucking turned on to stop him.

His hand slips between my body and the mattress, rubbing my clit with slow, devastating precision.

“Oh, God.”

Ford’s dark chuckle sends shivers down my spine.

“God isn’t here, sweetheart.” He licks the shell of my ear. “You’re fucking the devil tonight.”

His voice is gravel.

Pure sinful torment.

“You love taking the devil’s cock, don’t you?”

“Fuck yes,” I sob.

His fingers slow just enough to make me whimper.

“Do you know why you like my darkness?”

A flash of memory hits me like a bolt of lightning.

I’m fifteen years old.

Curled in the dark.

Shaking.

Terrified .

My father was yelling.

My mother was crying.

Ford climbs through my window, his voice urgent, his hands steady.

I was hysterical.

Inconsolable.

Sobbing.

Gasping for breath.

Until he grabbed a fistful of my hair and growled, “Harper. Listen to me.”

My heartbeat slows.

“That’s right,” Ford breathes against my skin. “You needed me to take control.”

A sob cracks through me.

Because he’s right.

Ford has always been my calm.

Always.

“Because I love you, Harper,” he whispers, dragging me over the edge again.

Pleasure shatters me.

I drown in it, in him, in us.

I let go.

Because Ford has me.

He always has.