5. Emzee
EMZEECHAPTER 5
W e were barely through the door of our villa before Ford had flung me up against the wall to attack me with kisses.
I moaned into his mouth, the feel of his lips—hot and firm and aggressive—making me ache for him.
I’d missed this.
His hunger, his touch.
How I ever thought I’d be able to resist him indefinitely was beyond me.
I fumbled with the buttons on his shirt while his hands slid under my dress and up my ass, his short nails gently scraping my skin and giving me goosebumps.
I felt the cool brush of air against my thong as he shoved his thigh between my legs, pinning me to the wall.
Somehow, amidst all the frantic groping, I managed to tug his shirt over his shoulders and down his arms.
We were both still damp with sweat from the hot dance floor, and each other.
“Come on,” Ford said, pressing a kiss against the hollow of my throat.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.” It would be my second shower of the day.
Not that I was complaining.
The villa’s master bathroom was approximately the size of my first studio apartment.
There was a huge glass-walled shower with multiple showerheads, all going in different directions.
It was luxurious and tasteful, with wall-to-wall marble and gleaming brass fixtures.
Ford made short work of the rest of my dress, pulling it over my head and leaving me in nothing but my scrap of a thong.
I wasn’t wearing a bra, and he let out a groan of appreciation when my breasts were bared to him.
Looping his finger into the waistband of my underwear, he gave a sharp tug and the delicate fabric ripped, causing the whole thing to come off in his hand.
I gasped with surprise and pleasure.
“What have you done?” I said with a teasing grin.
“I regret nothing. You should never wear panties,” Ford said.
He was kissing me again before I could reply, pulling off his shoes and pants until he was naked too.
I could feel his cock—huge and hard and hot—jutting against me.
Reaching down, I gripped it in my hand and gave him a long stroke.
Once upon a time, I would have never been so bold, but the day had given me a new sense of power and confidence.
First with the windsurfing and then with the dancing.
It felt like I had a new connection to my body and I wanted to take advantage of it.
Ford seemed more than eager to let me do what I wanted, but after a few more strokes of my hand, he was leading me toward the shower and twisting the taps so hot water came out.
“Get in,” he said.
I obeyed.
The water was the perfect temperature, sluicing down on us to wash away the sweat from the club, glistening deliciously over the hard planes of Ford’s body.
“Come here,” he said.
So commanding.
He grabbed the soap and started working up a lather, never taking his eyes off me.
“I think there’s a very dirty girl in here that needs to get clean,” he said.
“Not too clean,” I purred.
Without a word he pulled me closer, trailing handfuls of soapy, bubbling foam from my shoulders to my wrists.
The parts of my body that ached most for him—my breasts, between my thighs—went untouched as he lathered up my back, down my legs, even my feet.
God, this man was good with his hands.
Getting a massage from Ford Malone was like a little slice of heaven.
Finally, finally, he began to massage my breasts, making big circles with his firm but slick hands.
I leaned my head back against the wall, letting out a full-throated moan as the sensations overwhelmed me.
The warmth of his hands, the slide of the water, the slip of the soap, it all felt incredible.
My nipples were tingling, emerging from the bubbles only to be stroked by Ford’s talented hands.
He gave my nipples a firm, punishing twist that I loved, and then began moving downward.
Eager to be touched, I spread my legs wide as he knelt between them.
Looking up at me, he narrowed his eyes.
“Tell me what you want.”
This game again.
“You,” I said, trying to pull his hand between my legs, and failing.
“Say it. Say the words,” he goaded.
“I want you to finger me,” I said, my cheeks going even hotter than they already were.
“Mmm, that’s good,” Ford said approvingly.
“You want to feel my fingers in your sweet little pussy? My hot tongue, lapping you up?”
My knees buckled at his dirty talk, but I placed my palms on the wall behind me to keep me upright.
“Fuck yes,” I said, swallowing thickly.
I was so ready.
So needy.
“Do it. Please.”
But Ford didn’t touch me yet.
“Tell me exactly what you want,” he said, grinning wickedly.
“Tell me and I’ll do it.”
This wasn’t what I had planned at all.
I wanted to seduce him, to ruin him.
But I couldn’t resist what I knew he could give me.
Not when I knew how good he was at…
everything.
“I want your mouth on my pussy,” I said.
“I want you to eat me out until I come.”
“Good girl,” Ford said, and then he lowered his head to taste me.
I cried out as his tongue speared me deep.
There was no gentleness now, no teasing.
He was going hard and fast, using his tongue to fuck me against the shower wall, and I loved it.
I wanted more.
I widened my stance and he used his fingers to spread my lips, his tongue circling my clit before diving back inside of me.
“Yes,” I panted.
“Yes, fuck yes.”
I was moaning now, my hips rolling toward him, unable to control myself.
My body was his to command, to control, to pleasure.
And just like always, he knew exactly what I wanted.
He stretched me even wider with his fingers and then one was pumping inside of me, then two, his hand fucking me while his tongue lapped at my clit.
The water was spilling hot and fast around us, but I barely noticed, I was so caught up in what Ford was doing to me.
Then, without warning, my orgasm slammed into me.
I let out a deep, helpless moan, the sound echoing off the walls, holding on to Ford’s broad shoulders as I rode out the waves.
Once I’d caught my breath, I started to lower myself to my knees, but Ford stopped me.
He shut off the water and then spun me around and pushed me toward the glass door.
I could feel his cock, hard and ready against my ass.
We grabbed our towels, but had barely started to dry off before Ford was bending me over the vanity.
I gripped the marble countertop, my body humming with anticipation as he came up behind me.
He started tracing my entrance with the tip of his cock and I pushed my ass back to help guide him inside, but once again he stopped me, taking full control.
“You want this big fucking cock?” he asked, smacking it against my ass.
“Yes,” I moaned, a rush of adrenaline coursing through me.
God yes I did.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“Say the words.”
“I want your cock,” I begged, my voice cracking.
“I want your big fucking cock.”
His voice was hot in my ear as he grabbed me by the hair and jerked my head back, bringing me to the sweet intersection of pleasure and pain.
“You want me to fuck you like this? From behind? While you watch in the mirror?”
“Yes,” I moaned.
“I want to watch. I want to watch you fuck me.”
With a low groan, he thrusted hard inside me, both of us moaning at the deep connection.
He released my hair so I could fulfill my pledge to watch our reflection, his hands sliding down to grip my hips tightly.
For a moment we just stayed there like that, our eyes locked in the mirror, Ford’s cock buried in me, my hands gripping the counter, my breasts swaying heavily, my pussy throbbing.
“Do it,” I whispered.
“Fuck me.”
Then he began to move.
He slowly pulled out, giving my ass a hard, stinging slap.
Then, with a growl, he slammed back inside, taking my breath away.
Somehow, he was able to fill me up even more.
His thrusts were fast, frantic, pushing me against the edge of the vanity.
It felt animalistic and out of control and absolutely hot.
“Look at those tits bounce,” Ford said, pounding rhythmically.
“You like that?”
“I love it,” I groaned.
“God, you’re fucking perfect,” he gasped, fucking me even faster and harder, and I realized that my dirty talk was just as intoxicating to him as his wicked words were to me.
I saw my chance to push him over the edge, so I did it.
I took control, arching my back so he could pump even deeper, rocking my hips in time to meet every thrust of his cock.
I wanted to make sure he never forgot this night.
I started moaning louder, letting loose everything I felt inside, giving voice to all the pleasure building up.
I let it all out, glad we had an entire house to ourselves to fill with the sounds of our fucking.
I wanted him to know what he was doing to me, wanted him to feel it from his head to his toes to his fucking balls.
“Fuck me, Ford,” I moaned.
“Fuck my tight little pussy. Make me come on your cock.”
“Jesus, Em,” he groaned, breathing so fast and heavy that I was sure he had worked up a sweat all over again.
“Yes, Ford, yes,” I yelled, pitching my voice high like a porn star.
I loved what I was doing to him, making him lose himself, his eyes closed as he let out a breathless stream of curses.
It was clear that the sex we’d had last night—decent, but so “bare minimum” as to be forgettable—wasn’t worth it.
Especially when I was reminded of what I was missing.
I wouldn’t resort to it again.
Not a chance.
This was what I wanted.
Hot, dirty, passionate sex.
No inhibitions, no shame.
The kind of sex that would be seared into Ford’s memory and my own.
The sound of sex filled the bathroom, the chorus of our grunts and moans along with Ford’s hips hitting the back of my legs with solid, hot slaps.
I could feel every inch of him inside of me, could feel another climax building with every thrust.
Still gripping my hip with one hand, Ford brought the other one down to my clit.
As he speared into me from behind, he squeezed my clit, the dual sensation of his cock and his hand pushing me over the edge.
“I’m coming,” I said, my gaze still glued to our reflection.
“Watch me come, Ford.”
But it was Ford who came first, gasping as he spilled into me, our eyes locked in the mirror.
He was still coming when my own orgasm hit, my body clenching tight around his cock as I cried out my pleasure.
When I finally stopped shaking, I realized that he was still hard and buried deep inside me.
I’d expected him to pull out and collapse in a heap, but instead, he withdrew from my body and pulled me into the bedroom.
“How are you still hard?” I asked, trying to catch my breath.
“Magic,” he said with a laugh.
“You want to go again?”
“Oh my God. Seriously?” My knees were weak, but when he pushed me down on the bed, I knew I wanted another round.
“I want to be on top.”
His eyebrows rose with surprise, but his eyes went even darker with desire.
“Whatever my wife wants,” he said.
I tried to ignore the thrill I got from being referred to as his wife, and instead gave him a push so that he fell back onto the bed.
I watched his face as I climbed onto him, his gaze going from my face to my breasts and then lower.
He licked his lips, and I wanted to do the same.
Seeing Ford stretched out on the bed in all his naked glory made me hot.
It seemed impossible that I would still want more after the two explosive orgasms he’d already given me, but as I guided him back inside me, I realized that when it came to Ford Malone, I might be insatiable.
The feeling seemed mutual.
I straddled Ford, his cock sliding into me deliciously, his hands coming up to rest on my hips.
I half expected him to take charge again, but he let me set the pace.
I spread my legs wide, my knees on either side of his hips.
Then I started rocking.
His eyes were dark with lust, and I knew I was giving him a perfect view of his favorite parts of my body.
“Mmm,” I moaned, taking my sweet time to slowly pick up speed.
I fucked him hard but slow, reminding him wordlessly that I had control in this—even though it often felt like I didn’t have control over anything else in my life.
As I sank lower onto him, I realized I wanted to make him come.
Wanted him to shatter into a million pieces.
“Ford,” I said breathily.
“You feel so good.”
Arching my back, I thrust my breasts forward and tilted my head back.
I wanted Ford to watch my tits bounce as I fucked him.
I began to move faster and faster.
As I did, I used my inner muscles to squeeze Ford tightly.
He let out a choked moan, his hands sliding up to cup my breasts, his fingers pinching my nipples.
I knew he wanted me to come first, but I wasn’t going to allow that.
He needed to know that right now, I was the one in charge.
And I was going to give him an orgasm he’d never forget.
“Em,” he choked out.
I could tell that he was getting close, but didn’t want to let go.
Too bad I wasn’t giving him a choice.
I leaned into his hands, his fingers still squeezing my nipples as I began to raise and lower myself on his cock, taking him deeper each time.
I could feel my own orgasm racing toward me and my fingers slipped down to my wet, slippery clit.
“You’re so deep,” I moaned.
“So deep in my pussy.”
His breaths were getting more shallow and I knew he was doing everything he could to hold back.
“I want to feel you come,” I purred, egging him on.
“I want you to come so hard.”
I was moving faster and faster, rubbing my clit while I squeezed my inner muscles around Ford’s cock, all the friction and heat between us reaching the point of no return.
“Fuck!” he gasped, losing all control, grabbing my hips and pulling me down on his cock as he thrust up inside me in hot, shuddering spurts.
“Emzee,” he was moaning, over and over.
It was all I needed to send me over the edge.
My orgasm began to crest, and I shut my eyes and whispered Ford’s name, bracing myself against his shoulders as the pleasure spread through me in rippling waves, my whole body shaking with the intensity of it.
It felt endless.
Afterward I lay there, head against Ford’s chest.
As I listened to his pounding heartbeat, I knew without a doubt that he would never, ever forget this night.