Chapter 42
FORTY-TWO
F ord
The anticipation is so intense it almost doesn’t feel real.
It’s electric, buzzing under my skin, in my chest, in every shallow breath I take.
My grip on the steering wheel is too tight, knuckles white, but I don’t loosen it.
I don’t want to. Everything around me feels sharper.
Louder. The hum of tires on hot pavement, the distant wail of a siren, the late afternoon city clatter—all of it lands harder than it should, like my body can’t filter any of it out.
The air outside is warm, just shy of hot. It seeps through the cracked window and grazes the side of my neck like a ghost. My skin reacts instantly in goosebumps, a shiver that feels less like a response and more like a need, deep inside me, wound tight and ready to snap.
I feel everything.
She’s beside me.
Our hands are still clasped together, resting on her lap.
There’s energy rolling off us in waves. I can feel it, the same way I feel my pulse—undeniable, alive, real.
Hard. I haven’t been this hard for this long since I was a goddamn teenager.
I’m not in control. Not entirely, but God, I feel awake.
Every inch of me. And the knowledge of what we’re about to do—what we’re not saying out loud, but both know—takes root in me.
I put the car in park in my driveway and kill the engine, my pulse hammering beneath my skin.
Landyn is turned away from me, looking out the window toward the house. Her profile is lit up by the streetlamp out front and fuck me, she’s beautiful.
That perfect nose of hers—the soft slope of it that I’ve stared at more times than I can count.
And all I can think about is pressing my mouth to the bridge of it.
Just because I can. Just because I need to.
Then there’s her mouth . Jesus. That full bottom lip—soft, flushed, the kind that practically begs to be pulled into mine.
I want to bite it. Not hard. Just enough to feel it stretch between my teeth. Just enough to make her gasp.
Be cool, I tell myself as she undoes her seatbelt and reaches for the door handle like we’re not sitting in the middle of a four-alarm fire.
Spoiler: I ignore my own advice completely.
Something low and raw rumbles in my throat—part want, part warning, part I’m not going to make it inside, I need her that badly. Now.
I’m on her in the next second, before she can even step out of the car.
My hand is in her hair, mouth crashing into hers like I’ve been starved and she’s the only thing that’s ever fed me.
It’s not careful. It’s not slow. It’s weeks, of silence, regret, and desire all colliding into a single kiss that knocks the wind out of both of us.
She moans against my mouth, and I grip the back of her neck tighter, pulling her closer, devouring every sound, every breath .
This isn’t a kiss, it’s a reckoning.
The second her tongue slides against mine, I’m moving—reaching, grabbing, pulling her across the center console like I’ve been waiting my whole damn life to do it.
I drag her into my lap, one arm around her hips, the other pushing my seat back in a hard, jarring motion that gives me just enough space to get her where I need her—on top of me, flush and hot and trembling.
My cock grinds up against her center through her clothes, and it’s not enough. Not even close. But it’s something. And fuck, it feels like everything.
“Is this mine?” I ask clearly and slowly to avoid any confusion.
Landyn nods a yes as if she’s forgotten how to speak. She’s trembling, until I part her lips with my tongue and kiss her until I feel drunk.
“Is this body mine, Landyn? I need an answer.”
A broken, desperate sound slips from her throat when I pinch her nipple between my fingers. I keep the pressure light, measured, even though I know it’s driving her crazy. She’s aching for more, but I need to hear her say it first.
“ Yours .” The word leaves her mouth, slipping past her lips softly, like it barely has the strength to form at all.
I grip her hips tightly and rock her against me, grazing my cock against the thin cotton of her dress, over and over, rougher each time.
The friction is pure torture—sweet and maddening.
She gasps, hands braced on my shoulders as I bury my face in her neck.
Her scent. Her skin. Her fucking presence, it hits me like a drug, and I take it like I need it to breathe.
“And this, June?” I say, gripping and rolling her ass in my palms, claiming every curve before dragging a finger down between her thighs. When it grazes her centre, her ass lifts off my lap in a sharp, needy buck. “What about this?”
“Yours, Yes, yours, Ford,” she groans.
Yes, fucking, yes. She’s mine again.
Now I’m going to fuck her like I know she likes it.
She tilts her head, exposing her throat like she’s giving me permission to lose control. So, I do. I press my mouth to her neck, kiss and suck until she moans. A raw, desperate sound that lights me on fire. “I need you to fuck me. Now, Ford!”
I stop and take her face in both hands. “I’m going to fuck you, June. I promise you that. I’m going to fuck you hard and fast like I know we both need… then I’ll fuck you slow and steady when I get you inside.”
She grinds her pelvis over my cock, and I groan, hands already working at her clothes. Her dress. My pants. All of it. Barriers I suddenly can’t stand. Buttons. Zippers. Seams. All of it’s in my way.
She’s already helping, fingers tugging, unfastening, yanking at the belt that’s never felt so unnecessary. My hands are shaking as I fumble with her dress, not even bothering to be gentle as I work the powder-blue material over her head.
She lifts her arms, gasping as I pull. I rip my pants and my boxer briefs down to my knees. And then my cock is free. Hard. Ready. Pink and throbbing and barely holding on.
Mine.
June.
I take a minute to really look at us and I see her smooth olive skin bared for me, white lace bralette and matching panties that I want to shred from her body. She’s in nothing but sheer underwear, stretched across my lap like a vision I couldn’t have dreamed up if I tried.
It’s obscene.
It’s beautiful.
There’s a raw, aching power in the way she looks right now—half-wild, flushed, breath shaky.
My cock is hard and pulsing, trapped between us, leaking against the softness of her belly, begging for relief.
But I don’t move. Not yet because I’ve never felt like this before.
Yeah, I want to bury myself so deep inside her that she forgets her own name.
I want to fuck her until we’re both wrecked and shaking and completely undone.
But more than that? I want to feel her. Every inch of her.
I want to kiss her slowly. Stroke my hands over every part of her body until she melts into me.
I want to love her in a way that erases the space between us, until there’s no more her and no more me.
Just us. One breath. One heartbeat. Everything.
I’ve never wanted anything more in my goddamn life.
I hook my fingers under the thin band of her underwear and drag it to the side.
The second I see her—wet, swollen, slick just for me—something snaps.
I lose whatever fragile grip I had on control.
My mouth is on her before I can think, lips crashing into her skin—her chest, her collarbone, her shoulder, her throat.
I kiss like I’m starved, like I’ve got minutes to taste her and a lifetime’s worth of hunger to burn through.
My tongue follows, frantic and hot, lapping over her. When that isn’t enough—and it’s not, it’s never enough—I use my teeth.
I graze the tender slope of her neck, biting just enough to make her gasp.
Her head falls back, exposing more, and I take it, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to the curve of her jaw, her shoulder, the dip above her breast. My hands can’t stay still.
One grips her ass, squeezing, dragging her tighter against the thick length of my cock still pinned between us, the other slides between her thighs, fingers slick with her arousal the second they find her center.
I groan—fuck—and slip one finger inside her.
Then another. She’s soaked and tight and pulsing around me, and the sound she makes when I curl them nearly makes me come on the spot.
Her moan is high and panicked, desperate, as she reaches between us, fumbling, fingers wrapping around the base of me like she can’t stand to be one more second without me inside her.
Neither can I.
She braces her hands on my shoulders, fingers splayed wide and rises up onto her knees in an offering.
Slow. Sure. God, so beautiful.
Her thighs part around me, and I go still.
Utterly still.
I don’t breathe. I don’t blink. Because this— this —feels like more than just sex.
It’s not just her body settling over mine.
It’s a before and an after. A line in the sand we’ll never be able to cross back over.
Everything narrows to this moment. Her. Me.
The heat between us. The weight of everything we lost, everything we’ve found, and everything we’ve yet to discover.
I could live forever right here in the space before everything changes.
Before she sinks down and takes me inside her. Before I lose myself completely.
It’s not just want—it’s the start of something new, and all I can do is sit here, jaw tight, chest aching, as she spreads herself open for me… like a prayer. Like a promise. Like she knows this isn’t just about getting off.
It’s about everything.
And fuck, I’m ready.
I grab the base of my cock, thick and leaking, and line myself up with her slick, swollen entrance. She looks down, watching me do it, eyes glazed over like she’s lost somewhere between want and desperation. So am I. The second the head slips past her folds—hot, wet, perfect—I groan.
“Fuck,” I grit, and it comes out as a breath more than a word.
Then Landyn sinks down with no hesitation, no tease. She takes me and everything inside me shatters. It’s slick skin and unbearable heat, her pussy gripping me like it was made for this, for me. Tight and hot and beautiful. So fucking beautiful. I can’t even think straight.
She moves fast, riding me hard, frantic, grinding with short, perfect thrusts that steal the breath from my lungs.
I grab her hips and fuck up into her, fast and brutal, my thighs slapping against her ass as she takes every inch.
My insides quake, my nerves are on fire, and every time she moans, I feel it in my spine—a live wire of electricity snapping through me.
She clenches around me, and I curse again, forehead pressing to hers, sweat slicking our skin. Every thrust is a memory I burn into my bones. Every cry, every tremble, every desperate grind of her hips, I feel it all.
It’s hot. Heavy. It builds low in my gut, in my balls, thick and unstoppable, and I know I’m not going to last. Not when she feels like this. Not when she sounds like that. Not when she’s finally mine.
Her rhythm falters. I feel the sudden clench before I hear it, the broken gasp that shatters against my mouth.
Then she’s coming. Hard. Her whole body tightens around me, pussy fluttering like it’s trying to pull me deeper, wring me dry.
Her nails dig into my shoulders as she rides it out, and I fuck into her like I’m losing my mind.
“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” I growl, voice raw. “Come for me. Just like that. Fuck, Landyn—you feel so good, I almost can’t take it.”
She cries out—sharp, desperate—and I don’t stop. I can’t stop. Not when my balls are drawn up so tight it hurts. Not when I’m right there, teetering on the edge of my last ounce of control.
“I’m right there,” I breathe. My bones are weightless, it feels like I’m floating and about to burst at the same time. “I’m going to come, Lan. I’m going to fill you up, baby, so deep you feel me for days.”
She whimpers, yes with her and reaching behind her to cup my balls, and that’s all it takes. The need flips, fast and violent, and suddenly it’s mine. I’m not giving anymore. I’m taking.
I grip her hips hard, plant my feet against the floorboard, and fuck up into her with everything I have left.
It’s ecstasy.
Euphoria.
And then I’m gone. Heat explodes behind my eyes, white-hot and blinding.
I slam deep and stay there, cock throbbing as I spill into her.
Pleasure rips through my cock and balls , hips jerking with each pulse.
I shoot. I come hard. Pulse after pulse ripping through me, spilling everything I have into her.
My body locks up, shuddering, breath caught in my throat as I keep driving into her, every last spurt wrung from me with sharp, helpless groans.
It’s not just release. It’s flight. Like I’m finally taking off after being grounded for years. Only this time, I’m not crashing. I’m not spiralling. I’m in control, soaring, weightless, riding something so good, so fucking pure, I don’t know if I’ll ever touch the ground again.