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“You love my cock, baby?” He asks while sliding out and back in. I don’t say anything. I can’t. I’m stunned speechless by dirty-talking-Ford and how much it turns me on. He chuckles at my silence.
“Oh yeah, you love my cock.”
I move in rhythm with him as he strokes in and out of me, thrusting in as far as he can before sliding out.
“These sounds you’re making, these sexy moans,” he grunts, “your sweet fucking scent. All for me,” he grits out, slamming into me and I whimper in agreement. He picks up his speed, the sound of our bodies slapping together filling the quiet space. I slide my hand down my body, reaching for my clit, needing to come.
He narrows his eyes at me and grabs my wrist, pinning it to the bed above me.
“You don’t come until I say you can come, do you understand me?” He d
emands, stilling his hips inside of me and waiting for my response.
“Y-yes, I understand,” I promise, “but p-please, I need to come,” I beg, not caring how pathetic I sound, desperately seeking relief.
He growls, a sound I’ve never heard come from him before. He snaps his hips in and out of me, his hand finally, fucking finally, finding my clit and pressing as hard as he can. My orgasm hits, tearing through me and I cry out. Ford slaps his free hand over my mouth to quiet me as I come, the waves of pleasure rolling through me, one right after another. His soft grunts filling my ears and he snaps his hips once, twice, and on the third time he sinks all the way inside of me.
“Fuuuuuck,” he groans out, filling me with his release. He stays planted inside me for a few seconds before collapsing on top of me, pressing kisses to my heated skin. I slide my hands all over his chiseled body, moist with sweat. I want to keep this man forever.
Ford
A week has passed since Lex was attacked in her house and we are starting to get back into a groove. The police are still looking for Sophie and they’re investigating the claims we made against her ex. I’m calling him her ex because I refuse to acknowledge the fact that she’s still married to that piece of shit. He gave up any right to call her his wife the first time he ever raised his hand to her. Now that the police are aware of the situation, Alexis has sat down with an attorney to start the divorce proceedings. Unfortunately, since Jason is MIA right, now it’s a little harder to start the process until he’s found. According to the police department he works for, he took a leave of absence months ago and no one has heard from him since.
Lex is handling everything incredibly well. She’s teaching every day and she’s in my bed every night. I want her close until Sophie and Jason are both found, and the kids understand. Besides, they love her just as much as I do.
It’s crazy to admit it out loud, that I’m in love with someone who isn’t Zoe. But I didn’t plan it and I’m trying not to be so hard on myself. I think if Zoe could have picked another woman for me, she would have chosen Alexis. She’s grace personified and she’s great with my kids. I’m just finishing up in my classroom for the day. I’m packing my laptop into my messenger bag when the door to my classroom flies open and crashes against the wall. I whip my head up to see Mr. DeMarco, Sophie’s father, barging into my room. His face is beet red and he’s breathing heavy. I stand up from my desk and sling my bag over my shoulder.
“Jim,” I nod at him, “what can I do for you?” I say, shoving my hands in the pockets of my slacks. He points his finger at me, accusingly.
“I know you know where my daughter is!” He shouts, prowling into the room even further. I arch an eyebrow at him.
“I assure you I do not. If I knew where she was, her ass would be in jail already for attacking my girlfriend. I can understand you’re concerned about her and I can appreciate that. But she is in the wrong here.” I finish, powering off my smart board and pocketing my keys and phone.
“All these years I thought you were mentoring her but come to find out you were just sleeping with her!” He spits out, saliva flying from his mouth.
“If I were you, I would watch what I was saying, Jim. Once you say it, you can’t take it back. I never, and let me repeat NEVER, touched your daughter in any way shape or form. She was my babysitter and nothing more. You think I’m not suffering, too? Worrying about her well-being even though half the town believes I was having some scandalous affair with her? That I’m not reassuring Aria every single night that Sophie didn’t leave her and that yes, she still does love her?” I scoff, and walk to the door, “I assure you there was no intimate relationship between the two of us. She was my student and I was her teacher. That’s it.” His face falls a little bit and he shakes his head.
“It’s just so hard to believe that my baby would do something like this,” he chokes out, dropping into a chair. Oookay, guess we aren’t leaving. I sigh, undoing my tie and dropping my bag on the floor. I roll my neck from side to side and walk over and pull a chair up in front of him.
“I’m just as worried about her as you are, Jim. She’s been the kids babysitter for years. We love her like she is family, and I can’t imagine what you’re going through, not knowing where she’s at. But we need to focus on the bigger picture here. We have to find Soph and get her the help she needs, okay?” He meets my eyes and nods his head.
“I’m sorry for accusing you. It’s hard to believe that my baby did this.” I can’t disagree with him there. It is hard to believe and if it weren’t happening to us personally, I probably wouldn’t believe it either. I stand.
“Let’s go. I’ll buy you a drink.” I say, grabbing my stuff and locking up behind us.
Lex
I drag my ass through the front door of my bungalow. This week has been torture. Between teaching and cheer competitions for the girls on top of me worrying about where Sophie is and if she’s okay, I am dog-ass-tired. I don’t think the girl is a monster, I just really think she needs help.
“Riss, you here?” I call out, dropping my bag on the ground. Her car is parked out front so she should be here. I find her in the kitchen sitting at the counter. There is a bottle of scotch in front of her and a small notebook.
“Hey boo,” I say, snagging a glass and plopping down on the stool next to her. I pour a shot and peek over her shoulder at her notebook. “Whatcha doing?” I ask. It looks like a journal entry. Dated a few months before she showed up on my doorstep. I look at her face and can tell she’s been crying.
“Hey, what is this? What’s going on?” I ask, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. She drops her head to my shoulder and pulls in a shaky breath.
“I think I’m finally ready to talk,” she whispers, sliding the notebook over to me. I was right, it is a journal entry.
“Are you sure? Because you don’t have to. I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
