44. Ava
CHAPTER 44
AVA
The champagne in my glass catches the light, refracting it like diamonds wrapped in liquid gold fizzing under the chandeliers. It’s my third of the night, or maybe fourth. It’s starting to sink into my skin now, softening the edges of my thoughts and settling in a delicious hum behind my eyes. It’s the kind of buzz that makes everything shimmer and the music sound sweeter, even though something inside me won’t quite let go and relax completely.
I’m tucked at a table near the edge of the dance floor, a quiet little island in a glittering sea of wealth and opulence. My dress clings to me like a second skin of silver silk, the designer label it boasts making it seem as if I fit right in with these people. I don’t, but just like last night, I’m trying to pretend, hoping it’ll get me through.
Across the room, Ford’s engaged in conversation with a guy at the bar who could be his mirror image if someone scrubbed away all the ink and sin. They’ve got the same harsh bone structure, impossibly sharp jawline, and lean, muscular build. It’s obvious that they’re related– brothers, I’m guessing– and those Ford family genes are a rare gift.
I lift my champagne glass, stopping short of bringing it to my lips when I realize they’re both now looking my way, catching me staring.
Embarrassment coats my cheeks.
I should still be mad– furious, honestly– but the bubbles in my head have made room for reckless curiosity. I toy with the stem of my glass, nerves fizzing louder than the champagne. Ford says something else to the guy I assume is his brother and they both laugh. Then they turn to head my way.
My pulse quickens, veins buzzing with anticipation as Ford stalks across the room with vicious intent. Then someone else steps in front of me, blocking my view of his approach.
“Ava,” Senator Ford drawls, his smile politician-perfect, teeth gleaming. He extends a hand toward me, palm up. “Care to dance?”
My heart stutters. My gut says no, but etiquette– and maybe a tiny spark of vengeance– says yes.
“Sure,” I reply sweetly, slipping my hand into his and allowing him to guide me to my feet.
I can feel Ford’s glare on me as he closes in, but I purposefully avoid looking in his direction as his father leads me onto the dance floor. Senator Ford’s fingers wrap around mine, light and controlled. It’s the kind of touch that’s used to being obeyed–unlike his son’s, which always borders on bruising, possessive in a way that makes it impossible to ignore.
And yet somehow, this refined, practiced touch makes my skin crawl even more.
It’s just a dance. A few minutes of pretending, of floating through someone else’s polished, perfect world, with the added bonus of making Ford feel just a fraction of the indignation I felt after the way he introduced me.
Senator Ford guides me into position with practiced ease, his hand settling against the small of my back. I stiffen instinctively, fighting the urge to flinch away. His palm splays out, my muscles coiling beneath his touch, but I force the polite smile I’ve become too good at faking.
We begin to move in time with the music, his inscrutable eyes locking with mine. “You’re a pretty little thing,” he murmurs.
“Um, thanks,” I breathe, a blush rising to my cheeks.
He pulls me in a little closer, voice sliding slick and low into my ear. “Whatever my son’s paying you, I’ll triple it if you leave now.”
My stomach flips.
I blink back at him, unsure whether I heard right. His smile hasn’t faltered, though, and that’s when it sinks in.
This isn’t a misunderstanding, it’s a transaction. He thinks I’m for sale.
Because of what Ford said about my mother.
Because of course he does.
The music continues around us, elegant and meaningless, while I stand frozen in place, my pulse pounding in my ears. The low, vicious hum of humiliation rises like bile in my throat, and then he adds insult to injury. With practiced, sleight-of-hand ease, Senator Ford presses a hotel key card into my palm, fingers lingering a moment too long.
“Suite 1404,” he says, giving me a pointed look. “Lose the dress, but keep the heels and lingerie on.” He winks like he’s giving me a compliment, then abruptly lets me go and vanishes into the crowd.
I stand paralyzed in the middle of the dance floor, the plastic key card biting into my palm as my fist curls around it. I swear every chandelier in the room is suddenly casting its light my way, illuminating every flaw. The room sways gently, but it’s not the champagne. It’s shame, coiling in my gut like smoke, suffocating my lungs.
I want to scream. I want to disappear.
Then I feel my monster prowl up behind me, his presence like a shadow swallowing mine. Ford’s arm bands around my waist, pulling me backwards, anchoring me to him in a way that’s simultaneously comforting and terrifying.
“The fuck was that about?” he growls in my ear.
I swallow past the lump in my throat, but my words are stuck somewhere behind the champagne and bile and disbelief.
Losing patience, Ford grabs for my hand and pries my fingers open, eyes landing on the hotel key. His expression quickly shifts from suspicion to something darker. Something raw and sharp-edged, like hurt wrapped in barbed wire.
“You went to him?” he snarls, spinning me around so I’m forced to meet his furious glare. “You thought he could save you? That he’d get you out of our deal? That you could run from us, and we wouldn’t catch you?” His fingers wrap tighter around my wrist, pinning the card to my palm like a brand.
I shake my head, about to tell him he’s got it all wrong, but then… that unhinged spark in his eyes suddenly doesn’t scare me like it should.
It thrills me.
I want to run, but I want him to chase me more.
Ford leans in close, his breath hot on my ear. “Go ahead and run, little rabbit. Nothing gets my dick hard like a good hunt.”
My pulse roars in my ears, fight or flight thrumming in my blood. Again, I could just explain what happened and put a stop to all this, but I must be just as crazy as Ford, because I don’t. I play right into his game, excitement surging through me as I turn and run.
A wild rush of exhilaration propels me off the dance floor and through the grand double doors of the ballroom, high heels clipping the marble as I bolt for the elevator bank. I glance over my shoulder as I mash the button, seeing him coming, drawing closer and closer…
The elevator doors part with a chime and I dash inside, punching the button for the fourteenth floor. I stare out at Ford as the doors start to slide shut, the look in his eyes conveying a sinister promise as he stalks toward me. The closer he gets, narrower my view of him between the doors becomes, until his hand shoots out and catches them just in time. They pop back open, all the air rushing from my lungs.
Ford steps in and crowds the entire space, a tightly wound bundle of muscle and danger. He just hovers there like a phantom, blocking my escape as the doors start to slide closed behind him. I slowly back into the corner as the elevator begins its slow ascent, a heady mixture of fear and anticipation curling in my gut.
“Ford,” I whisper, not sure whether it’s a plea for him to free me or go in for the kill.
He chooses the latter, on me in an instant, pinning me to the wall with a hand on my throat. His knee shoves between my legs, tongue licking a stripe up the side of my face. I pant and whimper, sounds that would almost be convincing if it wasn’t for the way my fingers are clawing at his hair, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. His hands command my body, a low growl rumbling in his chest, vibrating against mine. The elevator dings, and he pulls back just enough to meet my gaze.
“Which room?” Ford demands, all heat and aggression.
“Fourteen oh four,” I gasp breathlessly.
He yanks me out of the elevator, dragging me down the plush carpeted hallway at a breakneck pace. Every step matches the pounding in my chest, a dizzying beat that keeps me going even though I’m unsteady on my heels, my knees buckling.
“Key,” he growls as we approach the door to room 1404, stretching out a palm in demand.
I hand it over and he swipes the card through the slot, the light glowing green as the door unlocks. Shoving the handle down, he pushes inside, dragging me with him over the threshold. Darkness wraps around us, my stomach twisting with anticipation as the door thuds closed to seal us in.
Ford flips on the light, and I blink against the sudden brightness, taking in the immaculate hotel suite. Everything is neat and tidy, the bed made up with pristine white sheets. The only sign of anyone staying here is a lone suitcase against the wall. It feels clinical, sterile. To clean for this wild, chaotic feeling pulsing through me right now.
His fingers close around my wrist, yanking me toward the bed. I barely have enough time to suck in a shaky breath before he’s tossing me down on it, the air leaving my lungs in a rush as I land on the soft mattress. My head spins from the abruptness of it all, a thrilling kind of dizziness that only heightens every sensation.
I scramble backwards on the bed as he stands over me like an apex predator, eyeing me with so much intensity that an involuntary shiver wracks my body.
“What are you gonna do?” I pant.
Ford reaches for his tie, loosening it with practiced ease. His lips curl into a feral smile, the promise of violence and pleasure mingling in a way that makes my stomach twist.
“Whatever the fuck I want,” he chuckles darkly.
Liquid heat rushes to my core, my heart slamming against my ribs as he starts to undress.
He draws it out, slipping off his jacket and popping each button on his shirt before shrugging it off his shoulders. It’s slow and deliberate, maddeningly methodical. Every piece of clothing that hits the floor leaves me feeling more exposed even though I’m the one still fully dressed, wrapped up in this ridiculously gorgeous gown like a present waiting to be opened.
His eyes are dark and wild, a mirror of everything that’s boiling inside me as he strips down to his boxers. Then he descends on me, the weight of his body pressing mine into the mattress as he slides the straps of my dress off my shoulders. I try not to squirm beneath the intensity of the moment as he peels my gown off with controlled precision, as if to savor every inch of skin that’s revealed to him.
“Black lace, huh?” he observes, amusement and desire tangled together.
It’s my fancy lingerie, a set my mom picked out on one of my birthdays, and I’ve never felt so damn sexy in it.
Ford dips his head down beside mine, warm breath skating across the shell of my ear. “Let me guess, he wanted you to leave it on?”
I suck in a sharp breath, my pulse hammering in my ears as he pulls back to look down at me. A smile creases his lips, eyes darkening as he murmurs, “Guess we’ll leave it on, then.”
He suddenly rocks back on his knees, wrapping an arm around my waist and flipping me onto my belly. His fingers close around my hips, tugging me up so I’m on all fours, and he slaps my thighs apart, yanking my panties to the side. I feel him shove his boxers down, and alarm bells sound in my head, heart leaping into my throat.
“W-we had a deal,” I choke.
He leans over me, his body a cage, his breath hot on my ear. “Don’t worry, Ava baby,” he taunts, his velvety tip gliding through my slit from behind. “I’m not gonna put it in. Unless you want me to.”
I whimper, the heat of his cock against my pussy short-circuiting my brain. He rubs it back and forth through my slickness, every drag setting me on fire, my core clenching each time his head bumps my clit.
“Do you trust me?” he growls.
“No,” I breathe, fingers twisting in the sheets.
He chuckles low in his throat, the sound of it rattling down to my bones. “Right answer.”
He presses my legs together, hands gripping my hips roughly to hold me steady as he pushes between my thighs. My eyes roll back at the sensation of his thick cock gliding through my folds, the raw and relentless friction driving me wild.
“You like that, Ava baby?” he rasps as he starts thrusting, pumping himself between my thighs. Even though he’s not inside me, this act feels just as intimate. He’s commanding my body, taking what he wants like it’s his, and I can’t believe how much I want it. Want him . I’m addicted to Ford’s madness, powerless to fight against being pulled into his darkness.
“Yes,” I pant, even though I shouldn’t. It’s filthy. The obscene slide of his dick along my slit, the way it bumps my clit with each thrust, the way his fingers bite into my flesh with possessive determination… I’m lost in the chaos of sensations, lost in the parts of myself he’s unraveling.
Ford’s fingers bite into my hips as he pounds against me, and for a second, I actually want it to slip in, want to know what it’d feel like for him to tear through every last boundary. I’m shaking with need, panting with desperation.
“Shit, you feel so good,” Ford grits out, his breaths growing more ragged as he ups his pace. His fingers tangle in my hair, yanking my head back so my spine arches. I gasp and moan, the friction against my clit building to a fever pitch.
The coil in my belly winds tight as his hips slap against my ass, his cock hard and hot between my thighs. My skin is slick with sweat, the tension in my body climbing to an impossible crescendo. My toes curl, eyes rolling back, and then I’m freefalling into a glorious climax, crying out as my body shudders with release.
“Fuck yeah, baby,” Ford grunts, still fucking hard between my legs. “Shit, just like that, come all over my cock.”
I’m lost to the throes of bliss, his words barely registering as I ride out the waves of pleasure. His hips stutter, the heat of his release bursting across my skin, painting my inner thighs. He groans as he holds me tight against him, hands gripping like he’ll never let go.
When he does, everything is a blur of raw nerves and ragged breaths as I collapse forward, my sweaty skin meeting the cool bedsheets. The sudden absence of his touch is jarring, punctuated by the sound of his footsteps receding. I hold my breath, wondering if he’s about to leave me here like this, trembling and sticky with his cum.
He returns a heartbeat later, gripping my hip and rolling me onto my back. Knocking my thighs apart, he lifts his phone, the camera flash blinding me as he snaps a picture of me splayed out on the bed in my black lingerie, painted in his release.
“Hey!” I object, jerking upright.
“A mental picture isn’t enough,” he says with a low chuckle, tossing his phone aside. He’s got a white hand towel clutched in his grip, and he leans over to swipe it against my skin, cleaning the mess between my thighs.
“You need to delete that,” I rasp, knowing full well that it’s futile. He’s still got the video of me from the loft. I’m just giving him more ammo for his arsenal, handing over more weapons for him to destroy me with.
He smirks back at me, tossing the soiled towel onto his father’s pristine pillow. A perfect little parting gift for the man he seems to despise so much.
Though now that I’ve met him, I kinda see why.
“Let’s go, Ava baby,” Ford barks, pulling me up off the bed and delivering a harsh slap to my ass.
I yelp, skittering away from him with wide eyes. “What? I can’t go back down there after that!” I choke, my voice strained.
He smirks, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “Nah, we’re done here,” he drawls, stooping to swipe my dress up off the floor and handing it over. He levels me with a stare, our fingers brushing as I take it from him. “We’re going home.”