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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

JULIET

I’m a chicken.

A scaredy-cat.

Maybe even a little bit of a prude.

I wanted to kiss Ford.

And I didn’t.

There were so many opportunities. Not only at the bar, but outside the restaurant when he wrapped his jacket around me to combat the brisk summer breeze. And again, when we got home, and both reached for the tub of ice cream at the same time. Or when he walked me to my door, said goodnight, and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead.

In every single one of those moments, I thought about making a move. After the moments we shared at the restaurant, it would’ve been so simple, warranted even, to push up onto the balls of my feet and just kiss him.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I let the voices in my head convince me that if he’d wanted me, he would have done it himself.

And now I’ve spent the last thirty minutes lying in bed wondering if he meant anything he said, or was it all just a lesson.

Am I really the only woman he wants to kiss?

Is he going to take a shower and think of me while he…I mean, I haven’t heard the shower start…Then again, he doesn’t need a shower to jack off.

Heat coils low in my belly, and I imagine Ford laying in a similar position as me—hand on his lower stomach, circling the sensitive skin just above his underwear, debating if it’s the right thing to do.

It’s not like I’m going to do anything. Even if I wanted to, I’m not sure I can bring myself to get out of my head long enough to feel any sort of pleasure.

But that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought of it the entire time I’ve been lying here.

On the one hand, if I could pleasure myself, it would be wrong to think about him—we’re just friends and this dating thing is only a series of lessons. On the other hand, loving oneself is a lesson in dating, right?

At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

I drop my hand to the bed and fist the down comforter. God, why can’t I just be like Ford? So confident in my sexuality.

In every other aspect of my life, I’ve been able to pull myself up by my bootstraps and make things happen. Step by step, I’ve learned how to stand up for myself and be a woman that I can honestly say I’m damn proud of.

But with this, I can’t bring myself to find that conviction.

It’s not like I’m not turned on. Or don’t know how it works. I’m not a virgin. I’ve just never done this before.

“Uuugh,” I let out a shrill screech of frustration and roll over, resigning myself to sleep off this unrelenting heat left behind by Ford Freaking McCoy and the filthy fantasies he put out into the universe.

Beside me, my phone buzzes to life, the light illuminating the otherwise dark guest room. I pick it up and see a message notification with Ford’s name.

Of course it’s him. The universe couldn’t just let me suffer alone in silence.

I swipe it open.

FORD: Heard your battle cry. Everything okay over there?

Is everything okay?

Is he freaking serious?

I’m not sure if it’s manic bravery, or a lust filled rage that spurs my actions, but I shoot up and hit his name followed by the call button. It doesn’t even ring once before he answers. Not that I let him get a word in before I lay into him.

“No, everything is not okay, Ford.” There’s an unhinged desperation in my voice, and I swear I hear him chuckle. But I’m on a roll and not about to stop to tell him where he can shove that laugh. “You are the one who filled my head with all those filthy thoughts at the restaurant, and then you had the audacity to leave me high and dry. Not even a proper kiss goodnight. And now I’m sitting here wondering if you followed through. Did you do those things? Did you think of me?”

“I—”

“No, I’m not done. Because then I got into bed and realized I’m still so freaking turned on that I can’t sleep. So, of course, I try to be brave. I try and take a page out of your book, because it’s all I can think about, and I’m left with the realization that I’m so damn broken, I don’t even know how to make myself come.”

“Juliet—”

“Every time I try, I get in my head, and all I hear is Tyler’s voice.” I lower my tone and mimic my husband. “You don’t get to come unless it’s on my cock. Don’t you dare be a little whore and touch yourself while I’m gone. Your orgasms belong to me.”

I choke out a frustrated sigh, losing a little bit of the wind in my sails. “All Iwanted was to do something for myself and take the edge off just a little bit. But no. I can’t even do that.”

“Can I speak now?” His voice is gentle, and even though he’d be well within his right to pity me, as always, there’s nothing but compassion in his words.

I pull my knees to my chest and drop my forehead as my firework of an outburst completely fizzles out. “Only if you’re going to tell me to hang up and go to bed.”

“I could do that, or I could tell you I absolutely intend to follow through on every single one of those fantasies I mentioned at the restaurant, but I wanted to wait until you were asleep.”

My head pops up, and I look toward his room as if he’s going to be there, standing in front of me. “Really?”

“One hundred percent,” he breathes.

My mouth goes dry, and I’m rendered speechless. Because what can I say? That I’m picturing him under a stream of steaming water, naked, cock in hand. That I’m jealous yet so damn relieved he doesn’t have the same hang ups as me and can enjoy his body in ways I could never.

“Juliet?” he whispers.

“I’m here.”

“Ask me to teach you.”

My stomach dips. My thighs clench. And my heart thunders against my rib cageas I force myself to take a moment and fully comprehend what he’s suggesting.

Ever the gentleman, he’s giving me a choice. I could hang up right now and likely all of this would be forgotten by morning. We’d wake up and skate around each other in the kitchen before he left for his game, and I’d make my way to Bare Necessities to put in my two weeks notice. Then we’d pretend like nothing happened until inevitably tomorrow night Ford would want to talk about it. Because the man couldn’t possibly go a day without demanding honesty. And as much as I want to hate it, I sort of love that about him. I never have to wonder if we’ll fix things. I know that eventually everything will sort itself out because he’ll demand nothing less. It’s a stability I didn’t know I needed with an element of safety in knowing he won’t push further than I allow.

But still, the question remains: Do I want this from him?

It’s dirty and wrong on so many levels coming from Ford.

“Teach me,” I rasp. “I need this. I want this. For me.”

His growl sends an anticipatory shiver down my spine. “Are you sure? Because as much as I’d love to hear you come, I’m not sure what happens when I wake up in the morning with that knowledge.”

I do. Nothing changes. Because he’s Ford and I’m Juliet. And we only know how to play this dangerous game.

“I’m sure.” I reassure him.

“Okay.” Ford goes quiet, and there’s a split second where I’m certain he’s going to take back his offer. There’s the sound of shuffling on his end, and then a soft sigh. “I want you to be comfortable. That means if you want to do this with your clothes on, that’s fine, or if you want to be naked, that’s okay too.”

“Should I tell you?”

He groans. “I think it would be better if you didn’t.”

“Okay.”

He must sense my uncertainty because he’s quick to clarify. “It’s not because I don’t want to know. It’s so I’m left only to my imagination and won’t be tempted to come see for myself.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh is right.”

His sarcasm pulls a grin to my lips. I like that the thought of me naked leaves him a little off kilter. And I can’t help but wonder if he’s also shimmying out of his clothes as we speak.

Once I’m completely bare, I’m surprised to find my nerves have steadied themselves, and I’m excited for what comes next.

“Now I want you to pull the topsheet up over you.”

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of being naked?” I scoff.

“From here on out, unless I ask you a question, I only want to hear one of four words come out of your mouth. Yes. More. Ford. Or stop. And to be clear, if it’s the last one, everything ceases.”

“But—”

“Juliet.” His voice is warm yet stern. “This is about getting out of that head of yours and rewriting this experience as one of your own, not laced in thelies that fuckface spouted.”

“Yes. Ford. More,” I tease.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” He exhales, and I can practically hear his eye roll at my teasing. “Now slide under the sheet and close your eyes.”

I do as he says, relaxing into the cool Egyptian cotton sheets like they are a fluffy cloud.

“Breathe,” he whispers. “In—and out.”

I follow Ford’s breaths like they’re a road map. With each one, the tension I’ve held onto for so long slowly releases. First in my shoulders. Then my back and hips, all the way down to my toes.

“Good,” he rumbles, his voice thick. “Now feel the weight of the fabric across your skin.”

I do. It’s light and airy, barely there.

“Notice the way it grazes your nipples and drapes over your thighs.”

At just the mere mention, my nipples tighten, and when I inhale a sharp breath, the sheet shifts over the tips, sending a spark straight through my abdomen and to my clit.

A gasp tears from my lips and my hips jerk, searching for friction that isn’t there.

Holy shit.

That’s never happened before.

Ever.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt something so visceral—so inherently sexy.

“Yes, love,” Ford breathes, but I can hear the smile in his voice. “I can only imagine how incredibly sexy you are laying there—fucking powerful—taking what belongs to you.”

“Yes,” I whisper, but it’s less an agreement and more a pledge to the woman I’m becoming.

“Now, I want you to touch yourself.”

My stomach clenches, but this time it originates from low in my belly, fueling the ache that is no doubt a precursor to the storm brewing.

“Yes.” I run my fingers over my hips, teasing my all of a sudden too sensitive flesh.

“But not below the waist.”

“No,” I whine, wanting to chase the storm weaving its tendrils around my spine.

It crosses my mind to disobey, but guilt rears its ugly face and ever the habitual rule follower, I lower my hands back to my sides.

Ford chuckles. “I promise, the wait will be worth it. Trust me.”

“I do.” And I mean it with every fiber of my being.

“Fuck.” The curse rolls off his tongue like velvet. “You have no idea what those two words do to me.”

“Tell me.”

“Maybe tomorrow. Right now, I want you to slip your hand outside the sheet andlower it to your thigh. Run it up your side, across your hip, and over the swell of your breasts. Without touching your nipple, circle it. Once. Twice. Three times.”

My hips jerk of their own accord and a whisper of a mewl escapes me.

“Now take your finger, trail it up your chest, past your neck, to those soft pillowy lips of yours. Slip it between your lips and get your finger nice and wet for me.”

I’m sucked beneath the waves, his voice commanding me and my fingers an extension of him.

“Good girl. I can hear you suckle your finger, and it’s driving me crazy. The way I wish I was there. That it wasn’t your finger between your lips.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him we could change that, but I don’t want him here. He’s exactly where I need him. On the phone, guiding me, giving me the freedom to explore what I need.

But holy hell, is it a giant turn on to think that he wants to watch.

“Now, take your other hand and do the same. Then I want you to take those wet fingers and push down the sheet enough that you can touch your nipples.”

I follow his directions, pooling the sheet at my hips and waiting with bated breath for his next instructions.

“Roll your nipples between your wet fingers and imagine they’re my lips. Sucking and pulling on your tit.”

“Ugh,” I moan louder than I intended.

My embarrassment is immediate until Ford releases a sinful growl. “Fuck, the sounds you make are so damn sexy.”

“Please, Ford.”

“That first word wasn’t on your approved list, but I do love hearing you beg, so I’ll allow it.”

My jaw drops at the same time heat floods my belly in a way I wasn’t expecting. Tyler never asked me to beg. He never asked for my input at all when it came to any of our bedroom activities. So, imagine my surprise to find that begging Ford to give me what I want is an absolute turn-on.

I test my theory, allowing myself to sink into the primal want swirling in my core. “Please. I need a release. Please help me come, Ford.”

“Fuck. Me.” He punches each word, and I feel the staccatos in the pulse of my clit.

Yup. I definitely think he enjoys that as much as I do.

“Do you know how fucking sexy it is to hear you ask for what you want?” he groans. “Do you know what that does to me?”

“Tell me, Ford. Please, tell me.” I can’t stop myself. The needy, wanton part of my soul has taken over, and all I can focus on is chasing the lightning ready to strike us both.

“My dick is weeping for you, Juliet.” Raw need echoes in his words. “I’m trying so fucking hard to let this be your moment, but just listening to you has me on the verge of coming in my pants.”

“Then let’s go together,” I plead. “Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. We can come together.”

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he moans, rushed and desperate. “Slide your hand down your body and rest it on top of what I am sure is a beautiful pussy. Just rest it there, feel the heat rising, the tensing need low in your belly. Let your legs fall open.”

I follow his command and cry out when cool air connects with my core.

“Fuck, those noises. The way I would love to kiss my way down your thighs, pulling more of them from your sinful mouth and savoring the taste of your skin.”

“God, yes.”

“There’s no god here. Just you, love. And you’re everything. Now, ever so gently, spread yourself for me. Slide your fingers down, explore every inch of your soaked cunt.”

Arousal coats my fingers, and tears prick the corners of my eyes.

I’m really doing this.

“Tell me, Juliet, are you wet for me?” Ford asks.

“Dripping.”

“Fuck. Slide your fingers up and circle your clit, but don’t touch it.”

“Ford, please,” I whimper, my hips bucking.

“Not yet, love. Not until you’re ready.”

“I am,” I assure him, my pussy throbbing with need. “I’m ready.”

“Oh no, love. You’re close. You’re so close. But I want you to understand what it means to pleasure yourself, so when I’m gone, you’ll be able to take what’s rightfully yours.”

“Please.” I want that. I want to take what’s mine. I want to break the dam inside me and experience everything that was kept from me.

“Dip one finger inside for me. Get it nice and wet. In and out. Find a pace that works for you.”

Ever the diligent student, I follow his commands, hanging on every word as I explore the soft and supple flesh of my pussy. It’s nothing like I expected, and yet it’s everything. Why did I wait so long to do this? Why did I let Tyler stop me?

“That’s it. My good girl.” Ford hums as I pick up the pace, and my hand brushes over my clit, teasing the sensitive bud. “Do you want another finger in that tight cunt?”

“Fuck.” The profanity falls from my lips like it was always meant to be there. “Yes, please.”

“Then take it. Stretch that pussy for me.”

Adding another finger, I feel a delicious pinch, followed by a flood of arousal. I close my eyes and catch my lower lip between my teeth, stifling my moan.

“Let me hear you,” Ford says. “I’ll only help you come if you’re screaming, preferably my name, but either way, don’t hold back.”

“Yes,” I gasp. “I’m so close, Ford. Please.”

“Yes, love. You’re ready.”

Oh, thank God, because I don’t know how much longer I can last.

“Now listen to me carefully. I want you to push your fingers deep into your pussy and curve them until you brush your G-spot.”

“How will I know that I found it?” My voice waivers. This definitely sounds like something for the advanced lesson, not the beginner trial run.

“You’ll know.”

My heart races, and I try to force air into my lungs as I follow his instructions. Pushing deep, I flutter my fingers until I brush against the sensitive flesh and cry out. “Oh, Ford.”

“That’s it, Juliet.” Ford emboldens me and I’m struck by just how freaking sexy his voice is. Maybe it’s because I’m on the edge, but the timber is both soothing and titillating. It’s everything I need. “Now, when I tell you, you’re going to rub the fingers of your other hand across your clit. Go as fast or as slow as you need, but don’t stop. Even if it feels like it’s too much, you keep going until you feel your pussy release the hold it has on your hand. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fuck me, you really are perfect.”

Every single one of my muscles shakes and begging is all I can do. “Can we come now?”

“We can.” I hear the smile in his voice, and it sets a chain reaction a split second before my hand touches my clit.I cry out Ford’s name as wave after wave of pleasure wracks mein the form of full body shivers.

“That’s it, Juliet. Come on your fingers.”

I do.

Hard.

And because I want nothing more than to be his good girl, I don’t stop until the last flutters of my pussy have ceased.

“You sound so fucking beautiful when you come, love.”

“Did you come too?” I ask, hoping that I wasn’t the only one to find release.

His breath hitches, followed by a needy groan. “I did, and I didn’t even have to touch myself.”

“Seriously?”

“I told you before, you have no idea what you do to me.”

Most men would be embarrassed, but Ford wears it like a badge of honor.

“Now get some sleep.”

“Are you going to make me talk about this tomorrow?” A smidge of awkwardness takes hold, and for a beat I’m worried about what this means for us—our living situation, our dates, our future.

“No. This wasn’t about me or us. This was for you.”

“Thank you, Ford.” I really don’t deserve him.

“Sleep well, Juliet.”

The weight of sleep tugs at me, and my eyes are closed by the time Ford ends the call. But as I fall asleep, I swear I hear the sound of his shower kicking on. A smile tips my lips, and as I drift into dreamland, I wonder if he’s going for round two.