Page 114 of A Sweet Destruction

Ford let me have about two seconds of fun before he was knocking my hand away and taking himself in hand. He looked down slowly and my own eyes followed. The sight had me straining my hips towards him again and I could feel myself nearly dripping with anticipation.

He moved the head of his cock over my center, gathering up the desire pooled there and moving slowly back and forth. Every time he passed over my clit, my chest sparked with warmth.

“Now,” I cried through a shaky breath. If we resisted any longer, I wasn’t sure the Bond wasn’t capable of ripping our control away and making us clash together like rutting animals.

Ford, bless him, listened and moved down to position himself at my center. I didn’t think either of us consciously moved, it just happened.

One second was full of anticipation, and the next he was slipped halfway inside me. Another few rolls of his hips and he was all the way in. Every inch of him.

My throat down to my stomach pulled tight, and I couldn’t quite tell where the sensation of him ended.

He was everywhere, in every corner of my body. And by God, it felt good.

I was panting, clawing at his back while he held still—arguably only for a second, but it felt like eons.

Just a moment of disbelief, a pause for Ford to rake in an uneasy breath, before pushing forward, impossibly further.

My legs wrapped around his back for leverage, matching his slow, pointed thrusts.

“Esme, God. You have no idea…this is—you are,” Ford said into my ear. The idea that I was able to reduce him to broken sounds had me gripping him even tighter.

He pulled my right leg over his hip, allowing him to drive deeper.

A tear slipped out of my eye while my mouth hung slightly open in shock. I wasn’t even making a sound—any voice I had to share was seized in my throat by the pleasure of it all.

Ford licked the tear off my temple and I found my voice, though it was no better than the half sentences he managed.

“I’m sorry,” I babbled. “I just feel you everywhere. I don’t—”

“Esme, shut up,” Ford said, speaking the words against my mouth.

I wouldn’t have been able to say anything in response, because he timed his words with a powerful thrust.

That did the trick though, and I was pretty sure Ford was fully aware of what he’d done. He broke the shock, letting the crazed desire back through.

My muscles unlocked and my mind went blank and I met him for every stroke. It was entirely instinctual, the way we moved together, our hips rocking in perfect tandem.

The only word to describe it was athletic. The sounds of exertion, the way my body bent to bring him closer, the flexing of muscles, the slight sheen of sweat building on us.

I moved one hand from his back to the base of his neck to stabilize myself, letting him connect with me harder. My eyes were hazy from the pleasure of it all, but the image of my hand—covered in our Mark—at the base of his throat made it through the fog.

Release crashed through me, taking me entirely by surprise. I’d felt close to the edge since the second Ford touched me, but I tumbled into pleasure without warning.

As in tune as he was with me, Ford seemed to recognize that was what did it. Or maybe I was just delusional, turned insane by the dizzying sounds of Ford’s groans in my ear.

All I knew was that as waves of bright ecstasy rolled through my chest, seemingly with no end in sight, Ford moved his left hand to the base of my throat, his eyes focusing on the image.

“Fuck,” he cursed, squeezing once. “Fuck, Esme.”

I reached my left hand up to squeeze his wrist. Giving Ford a view of my Mark alongside his.

It immediately pushed him into a new state of being. Though he was moving, and doing so quite ferociously, he appeared nearly frozen in that heightened state of desire.

My own moans were turning into desperate pleas to him, to God, then reduced back to shapeless sounds. I could feel myself still pulsing around Ford, could see how it was driving him even crazier.

That was what caused me to tumble over the edge again, my stomach twisting to a nearly painful point of release. My entire body was too sensitive, the space between my legs feeling a little bruised, but it only added to the sensations.

I’d begged to feel like this, to be forced to weather the continued press of Ford’s affections even when I was wrung out. My body was clearly capable of tumbling over the edge again, even if pricked with a little bit of pain.