13. Emzee
EMZEECHAPTER 13
T he whole ride back to Brooklyn—with a freshly groomed Munchkin in my arms, and Ford at my side—I struggled.
There was just too much…
too much everything.
Too many tasks, too many people who needed me, too many goddamn lies.
But despite all that, I’d somehow miraculously managed to finish all my lookingglass work in time for the magazine’s debut print issue deadline.
And I’d done a damn good job, at that.
I had somehow forgotten how buoyed I always felt when I did a good job on something that was important to me.
When I made the magic happen.
I snuck a glance over at Ford, quickly looking away when he caught me and smiled.
Things felt so upside down, with him doing all the chasing and me running.
I was happy, though, that he had come to his senses and apologized to Andrew earlier.
After him showing up at my office and making such a scene, I didn’t think there was any way he could make amends, but I had been pleasantly surprised by his apology.
Hopefully, someday, he’d find a way to be buoyed by something that was important to him, too.
Though I suspected his constant need for his parents’ approval probably sucked out any real hope of that.
Then again, he was here in New York trying to win me back, instead of in Chicago with his family doing whatever they wanted him to do.
Maybe he’d carve his own path after all.
When we arrived at our apartment building, we went inside together silently.
It wasn’t until we were in the elevator that Ford cleared his throat and glanced at me hesitantly.
“Can I…offer you a drink or something?” he ventured.
“I want us to talk. I promise not to get out of hand.”
“Umm…”
I was about to refuse, but I realized that this did have to be done.
Sooner or later, we had to talk.
And if I could convince Ford to sign the divorce papers, it would be one more task off my list. Clearly my attempts at shutting him out hadn’t been working.
Maybe it was time for Plan B.
If I could get this taken care of quickly enough tonight, it might very well give me the energy boost I needed to open my laptop and write up that work email for Emma at See Yourself.
Although…there was definitely one other thing that gave me that kind of boost. And my hormones were certainly on board with the idea.
Could I possibly seduce Ford into signing, and kill two birds with one very wicked stone?
It was worth a shot.
Especially since nothing else had worked so far.
“You know what?” I said.
“I’ve got more work to do tonight, but how about a sparkling water? Just let me drop Munchkin off at my place and then I’ll be right up.”
He lit up.
“Of course,” he said.
“I’m ready when you are.”
Minutes later, I was knocking on the door to Ford’s apartment.
I was barely over the threshold before he was apologizing again.
He had a glass of ice and a can of La Croix waiting for me on the coffee table.
I couldn’t help noticing that his place was about twice the size of mine, and it looked like he’d ordered all his furniture from a Restoration Hardware catalogue just to get it furnished quickly.
It was nice, just kind of beige and impersonal.
“I’m sorry again, about today,” he said.
“I know I’ve been over the top, but I just can’t give up on you. On us.”
My heart twisted in my chest as I sank onto the couch and poured the water into the glass.
I knew I had to stay strong.
I couldn’t risk getting another case of the Feels.
I had to be firm.
“You know you have to,” I told him quietly.
He dropped onto the other end of the couch with a sigh.
I took a sip of the sparkling water and then slid closer to him.
“I don’t have to do anything,” he said.
“Especially if it doesn’t feel right. And this divorce, it doesn’t feel right.”
“But don’t you want to make me happy?” I asked.
I leaned in, and I could see interest flare in his eyes.
He seemed to know exactly where this was going.
“Of course I do. I just?—”
Before he could say anything else, I grabbed him through his pants.
He was already hard and he let out a groan, his cock warm and rock solid against my palm.
“Make me happy, Ford,” I whispered.
“Oh, I’m going to make you very, very happy,” he said.
Then he pulled me onto his lap and covered my mouth with his.
Both of us had gone far too long without sex, and I could feel the taut electricity between us as we kissed, aggressive and breathless and unstoppable.
I was horny as fuck and desperate for him, tugging his shirt free from his pants so I could slip my hands into his briefs, grabbing his cock and squeezing it.
Ford moaned, thrusting in my grip, and I couldn’t help smiling against his mouth.
It was hard to believe I’d been a virgin before him.
That now I could wield such power.
That power didn’t last long.
Once I had Ford’s pants down, he took my hand and pulled me off the couch, then led me to the sliding glass doors that opened onto his balcony.
He turned the light off so we could see the city lights and then pinned me against the glass.
“Fuck,” I gasped. “That’s cold.”
“I’ll have to warm you up then.”
Grabbing my hair, he tugged my head back and kissed me ravenously, his mouth everywhere.
My lips, my throat, my shoulder, capturing my earlobe between his teeth.
The sensation made me moan.
Spurred on, he shoved me harder into the glass, so my nipples were tingling with the cold and friction.
He pushed my dress above my hips, dipping a hand down the front of my panties and groaning when he found me wet.
“Is your pussy ready for me?” he growled, pushing his cock against my ass.
“Yes,” I said, reaching down to pull my underwear aside and guide him to my entrance.
He was still in his button-down shirt, but I was fully dressed—which was fine with me.
I didn’t want to make this more than what it was: a seduction, and nothing more.
I also didn’t want Ford to look at my body too closely.
I could tell it was starting to change in small ways, and the last thing I wanted was for him to notice.
Getting fucked from behind against a glass door was exactly the kind of sex I was looking for right now.
Which is why when he tried to turn me around to face him, I spread my legs wider and slammed back into him, forcing his cock inside me.
He didn’t argue, just grabbed my hips and buried himself deeper, making me cry out as he went to work slamming into me, hard and fast. I could see my breath fogging up the view of Manhattan, but nothing else mattered except the feel of him inside me, the mingling of our moans, the rhythm we were finding.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I panted.
He felt so good, tears were stinging my eyes.
“Fuck me.”
“Oh my God, oh fuck ,” he was saying over and over, his movements getting jerky and more erratic by the second.
I knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer.
Reaching down, I slid a finger over my clit and rubbed myself in little circles as I continued grinding back against Ford’s cock.
“Fuck me,” I said again.
He always loved it when I cursed, when I talked dirty.
“Fuck that tight little pussy. Make me come.”
Hearing him groaning helplessly as he drove into me was enough to send me over the edge.
My orgasm hit, so hard it took my breath away.
Ford tightened his arms around me, holding me up as my pussy clenched tight around him.
I shuddered, moaning softly with every wave of pleasure, and he finally let himself go, filling me with his hot release.
Even though I could feel his arms trembling from the strain, he held me up against the glass, kissing the back of my neck and shoulders, not willing to let go.
I didn’t want him to let go, either, which is why I pulled away.
Adjusting my clothes, I walked across the room to my purse, where the divorce papers were.
Ford turned around, but his expression hardened when he realized what was in my hands.
“No,” he said.
The post-sex glow faded immediately.
Seducing him had been my last ditch attempt to get him to sign, but now I was at my wits’ end.
“You need to sign,” I told him, digging around for a pen.
I needed this, I had a plan for this, and I was sick of his games.
“I won’t.”
“We’re done, Ford. You need to accept that.”
“We are so far from done, and you know it,” he said.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Just sign the damn papers!” I ordered, holding up the pen.
Ford walked over to me, still naked and irritatingly hot.
My mouth was watering all over again.
“I love you, Em,” he said.
“And that’s why I’ll never sign those fucking papers.”
I grabbed my stuff, trying to ignore the way my body was still humming from my orgasm.
“Fine. But don’t speak to me again,” I told him.
“This was it. Enjoy the memories.”
Then, before he could say anything more, I stormed out of his apartment and went back to mine.
My heart was racing in sheer panic as I turned on my laptop to email Emma.
What the hell was I going to do now?
I needed that divorce.
I needed his parents to clear my family’s debt to the Bratva.
I needed to move on with my life.
But Ford was making it absolutely impossible.
My inbox loaded, and of course there was a fresh email from Mother Malone.
Fuck.
I was desperate.
And desperate times called for desperate measures, didn’t they?
Smoothing the folded divorce papers on my desk, I carefully forged the missing signature.
After seven years, Ford’s handwriting was easy enough for me to copy.
I had no other choice.
Then, just to make sure I couldn’t turn back, I took a picture of the document and emailed it to Mrs. Malone.
I included a message.
“Now it’s on you to convince him to stop stalking me.”