Revenge Era: Chapter 9

God, I don’t want to wake up from this dream. I’m on the precipice of an intense orgasm, though, so while my eyes fight to blink themselves open, my mind tells me to keep them shut so I can enjoy this. With a hum, I glide a hand down my stomach to my apex. Every inch of me comes together, ready to ride this wave for real. But instead of finding the soft warmth of my swollen center, my fingertips brush hair. When I grip the strands, a deep chuckle resonates between my thighs. Teeth nip at my clit, and I buck up in surprise, finally forcing my eyes open. Smiling up at me is the most devastating face, a man songs should be written about, but that I intend to keep to myself.

“Ford,” I moan.

I’m rewarded with another nibble. “That’s my good girl. Greedy little thing was riding my face while she slept. Now come on my tongue so I can fuck you again before breakfast.”

Oh my god. It’s the only thing I can think when his tongue delves between my lips and he digs his fingers into my ass to pull me closer while he literally feasts on me. The man eats me like it’s his favorite thing to do. And damn, is he good at it. He’s quickly making me an addict.

I spiral, clenching my thighs around his head as I come so hard I see stars. My body practically levitates off the bed, spurring him to drape an arm over my stomach to hold me down and force me to take more. “Please, please,” I pant. I’m not even sure what I’m begging for.

“Against the window. Hands on the glass,” he orders as he stands and goes in search of a condom, I’m guessing.

Still naked from last night, I eye the rumpled blanket draped over the foot of the bed. Will he let me get away with covering myself?

Startling me, Ford rasps, “There a problem?”

I shake my head. “I just—” I drop my focus to the sheet covering my body. “Clothes—I’m naked, and it’s daylight.”

Ford’s lips tip up into a thoughtful smile. “It is, isn’t it? Guess Boston is about to see me destroy the perfect image of their princess.”

My thighs clench. This man’s words alone are enough to have me teetering on the edge again.

“Tits on the glass, ass spread, begging for my cock. Leave the girl who says please and thank you behind.” His words are nothing more than grunts. “Demand your orgasms. Because only I can satisfy that need you have. Right, my little slut? You need my cock…” He grips himself and drags his hand up and down his shaft as he stalks toward me. “Inside you.” Without looking away, he spits into his hand and wraps his fingers around his shaft again and works himself over. “Fucking you until you can’t walk. Now, Red. You have five seconds before I drag you over there, and when I do, there will be consequences.”

Heart pounding out of my chest, I scramble out of bed and slam my hands against the cold glass. My nipples are so hard the shock of it almost hurts. Cheek flat so I can keep him in my periphery, I wait for him to touch me. Nerves swarm my belly. Last night was one thing. We’d both been drinking. It was dark. But here in the daylight, there’s no hiding what we’re doing. I’m about to be fucked by my ex-boyfriend’s father while completely sober. And I’m shaking with a need that, as he so aptly pointed out, can only be quelled by him. This moment, these hours, will be branded on my soul and in my brain for the rest of my life. I’ll dream about them, get off to them, and mourn them when they’re over.

I’m not fool enough to believe this could lead to a happily ever after, but I’ll enjoy every freaking moment until it blows up in my face.

Warm hands circle my thigh and guide it, widening my stance. Then for just a moment, Ford presses himself to my back, breathing me in, as if he needs this as much as I do, a reminder that it won’t last, this little game we’re playing.

Game or not, it might be the truest thing I’ve ever experienced. I close my eyes when his lips meet my shoulder. “Being able to touch you is unreal, Red. I’m fucking losing my mind right now.”

I drop my head back against his chest as he slides his cock between my legs. “Me too,” I whisper, my breath unsteady.

He kisses my shoulder again and murmurs in my ear. “I’m going to treat you like my dirty little slut again, but know that it means so much more than that.”

His voice is so tender it’s almost as if the words are whispered by another person. Because in the same moment, he thrusts in hard, stealing my ability to breathe. Filling me so completely that I don’t know where he begins and I end. Fingers dig into my hips as he thrusts relentlessly, the only sounds our joined moans and the slap of his palm against my ass as he fucks me into oblivion.

“Look down, Red. Look at all the people who are always looking up to you.”

With my hands flat against the glass, I find the street at least thirty floors below. The people are so small I can barely make out details.

“What would they say if they could see you now? Taking your ex’s father’s cock. Revenge.” His dark chuckle makes me shiver while simultaneously sending a wave of heat to my core. “That’s what you’d have them believe, but we all know you’ve wanted this cock since the beginning. That if you could have chosen, you’d have picked me.”

His thrusts are punishing, as if he wants me to know just how angry he is that I didn’t choose him. It’s a game. He never really felt that way. Even if he remembers what I wore the day we met. Why wouldn’t he, right? I’m fucking pop royalty, his biggest fucking star. I made his career.

“Yes,” I play the game too, despite how close to my truth his words hit. Ford is devastatingly good-looking. He intrigued me from that first day too. I just never imagined he’d be interested in me. Too young, too naïve, too proper and perfect. All the qualities he’s promised to fuck out of me.

I laugh at the ridiculous turn my thoughts have taken, but the sound only seems to make him angrier, like maybe he thinks I’m laughing at him.

He grasps my throat with one hand and pulls me closer, squeezing slightly. “If you can laugh, I’m not doing my job.”

Moaning, I focus on the way he holds me in place, the way we must look, both of us naked; me with my dark hair flowing around us, my body bruised and spent from being used all night, my tits pressed up against the window, my pussy spread and taking the beating his cock is giving me; Ford, the older man with so much strength he could easily subdue me. He could literally hold me down and fuck me, and I couldn’t stop him. Just the thought makes me gush, leaving me dripping all over him.

With his free hand, he finds my clit, and in a matter of seconds, I scream out my release.

“That’s it, Red. Squeeze me baby. Yes, fuck, you are so perfect, taking my cock like this. Milk me, baby. Take it all.” He curses and sinks his teeth into my shoulder as he explodes inside me.

I drop my forehead against the window with a little too much force, sucking in lungfuls of air. Ford doesn’t let me pull away. Instead, he holds me close, taking my weight. “Come on, gorgeous, let’s get you showered,” he murmurs.

Showering with him should be awkward, allowing him such intimate access to my body to wash me, but that feeling never comes. Ford turns on the water, and when he’s sure it isn’t too hot, he sets me beneath it. Then he washes my hair and caresses my body, cleaning every inch of skin. When he ghosts between my legs, a moan escapes me and heat pools low in my belly.

He forces my mouth up to his and kisses me beneath the spray. “You need to rest, Lake. And eat.”

“But that feels so good,” I whimper. I’m sore, and purple bruises are already starting to appear all over my body. I love every single discoloration. They mar me, leaving beautiful imperfections that remind me of all we’ve done over the last few hours. Every moment, every word, every kiss. Each bruise is a memory littered along my body, and I’m already dreading when they’re gone.

He drugs me with a kiss, licking at the seam of my lips. There’s no purpose, no end goal. He consumes me because he can, melding our mouths together in a way that will ruin me for others. When I try to reach for him, he brushes my hand away. “I’m going to finish up in here. Go get ready, and then we’ll have breakfast.”

Just as I’m stepping out of the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy white robe, a knock sounds at the door. Maybe he already ordered breakfast to be delivered. He did it last week and already knows what I like. However, when I open the door, I find a professionally dressed woman with dark hair standing on the other side.

“Good morning,” she says, holding out a large white shopping bag. “I have a delivery for Mr. Hall.”

Hoping she doesn’t recognize me—not only am I in my robe and with my hair in a towel turban, but I’m dressed this way in Ford’s room—I thank her and take the bag before anyone else spots me and close the door quickly. Once the lock clicks into place, I spin and fall back against the solid wood.

Ford appears, towel circling his waist, his chest and the dark trail down his belly still damp. God, he’s gorgeous. His body, the ease with which he carries himself, the confident, intelligent way he speaks. And when he looks at me? Blue eyes warm with affection. Fuck, I’m melting.

“Oh, your clothes arrived.”

“Huh?” I’m still dumbstruck at the sight of him.

“You can’t wear the dress you had on last night,” he says, lips turning up in a wicked smile. “Unless you really want to make a statement. Your choice. I’m good either way.”

I swallow. “I repeat, huh?”

“For breakfast. Get dressed.” He points to the bag I’d forgotten all about and pulls his towel off. Unabashedly, he stands before me, naked, and runs it against his hair. Leaving his thick cock on display, long and only slightly hard. It should be a crime to be this good-looking at any age, but damn, he’s almost twice my age and sexier than any man I’ve ever seen.

“You want to go to breakfast with me?”

I can’t wrap my head around the idea. Sure, we had sex. And maybe we even shared a kiss in public—though it was the most private version of public there is. I’m sure Ford’s friends had that party on lockdown from the press. No way would the owners of a hockey team want their players caught on camera on New Year’s Eve.

Ford stares at me like I’m an idiot.

“You don’t want anyone to know about us,” I tell him.

“That was the deal, wasn’t it? I don’t get the benefit of sinking my cock inside you only to let you walk out like you’ve done something shameful.”

“I’m your son’s ex.”

“Yeah, my son, who is gallivanting around Bali with your tour manager on my dime, not bothering to hide a fucking thing.” Red-faced, Ford wraps his towel around his waist again. “I’ve been teaching him right from wrong all his life. He doesn’t follow the rules, he faces the punishment. That’s how it’s always been.”

“So that’s what I am? His punishment?” I ask, caught somewhere between feeling wicked and confused.

He steps closer and ducks his head to look me in the eye. “And my reward.”

The mix of emotions clears quickly, and I can’t hold back my smile. “What are you being rewarded for?”

“Pretty sure the five orgasms I’ve given you in the last twelve hours have earned me a breakfast date.”

Pulling my lip between my teeth, I survey the skyline out the floor-to-ceiling windows. Outside, the world is going about its business. “You really want to take me to breakfast?”

Ford presses closer and swipes a thumb across my chin, back and forth, like he just can’t keep himself from touching me. “Yeah, Lake, I want to take you to breakfast.”

I sigh, considering the implication, but quickly get lost in his heartbreakingly blue eyes. They’re the color of the ocean now. Midnight blue and dangerous. “You do realize what that entails, right? I’m a media circus at all times.”

Once again, I apologize for my success. Apologize for being me.

Ford inches closer, his lips tipping up like he’s in on a joke. “My label has been in charge of that circus for two years, Red. I’m well aware of what breakfast entails.”

“Everyone will know you fucked your son’s ex.” Our lips are practically touching now, but I keep pushing him away. With my words. With my reality. He’s obviously thinking with his dick right now.

Ford arches an unimpressed brow. “And?”

“It’s exhausting. This will be all over the internet and plastered on the cover of every magazine in the grocery store checkout. It’s one more thing they can print about me, one more way they’ll dig into my life.”

He rubs his nose against mine. The small gesture makes my heart skip and warmth skitter through every inch of my body. “They’ll talk anyway. They’ll make up stories. How about you live the life you want? Fuck, at least now you’re doing things worth talking about.”

I bite my lip and shake my head, but I don’t pull back. “What about your reputation? It’s your label,” I whisper.

“And he’s my son. If I don’t give a fuck, then why should you?” And then his lips are on mine and he’s pulling me as close as he can get me. Our tongues tangle and our breaths mingle. My mind whirls with all the potential stories, all the comments and articles that’ll paint me in a negative light. But he’s right. The media does that already. Now, at least, they’ll be true, and I’ll have a fucking good time while they talk.