Ford tucked her arm in the crook of his, leaving her no choice but to go along. He seated her then took the chair next to hers. How close did the transmitter have to be to operate? If he’d sat across from her, would he have been too far away?
She took the menu offered and listened as her partner ordered wine and appetizers from the waiter who had appeared like magic.
“I’m really looking forward to the concert later,” Ford said without taking his eyes off his menu.
The concert. The very loud concert. Oh, he was an evil one! “You wouldn’t.”
“Not during your brother’s set. That would just be weird.”
Weird pretty much summed up her life these days. She’d once lived a quiet, if not boring life. There had been plenty of ups and downs since Kenneth Adams passed away, but thanks to his son, she hadn’t been bored a single day. “And it wouldn’t be weird to do this in front of our friends?”
He shook his head. “Nope.” He looked up as another waiter placed a loaf of artisan bread on a small cutting board in the center of the table. Ford reached for the carving knife and cut off a chunk, offering it to her. Becky declined. “Trust me. If Scott figured it out, it wouldn’t bother him in the least. Since Roseanne is with him, I doubt she’d care either.”
A cold chill raced down her spine. She opened her mouth to protest that he couldn’t possibly know what her friend would think when Ford stood. She followed his gaze to see the couple in question making their way to the table.
Scott held the chair across from her for Roseanne, sinking any chance she had of having a private word with her friend. As he resumed his seat, Ford smiled and winked at her. She stuck her tongue out at him then sat back as he reached inside his coat.
No. He wouldn’t.
“How was your flight?” he asked the newcomers. Becky Jean bit the inside of her cheek to keep from whimpering. She clenched her thighs tight which only served to concentrate the sensation. He kept up a running conversation for several minutes. She thought she might die as the microphone/receiver picked up every word Roseanne spoke and several of Scott’s, keeping her on the sharp edge of arousal. How in the world would she make it through the concert?
“We’re going to debut a new product at the show this week.” He turned his attention her way. “Why don’t you tell them about it, Becks?”
She thought about begging, but she let her eyes do the job, silently pleading with him to turn the damn thing off. Masturbating in public went way beyond her limits. He reached into his coat and the tension in her shoulders released. She wouldn’t rest easy until she knew for certain he’d turned the infernal thing off.
“Go ahead,” he said. She let her thighs and stomach muscles relax. “You can probably describe the operation of the Your Secret is Safe Personal Vibrator better than I could.”
He’d even named the product! She narrowed her eyes at him then quickly shifted gears as he reached for the switch again. He would pay for this! “Hmm. Let me think.” She picked up her wine glass and sipped. Over the rim, she caught Scott’s amused expression. Immediately, she shifted her gaze to Roseanne who did a terrible job of containing her mirth. A pit opened up inside her, and her stomach slid all the way to her toes. She turned to her partner. “You told them, didn’t you?”
“No. I swear.” The smile on his face made her want to crawl under the table. “I think you just did.”
Shit.
Roseanne laughed out loud. “Oh, God, Becky! If you could have seen the look on your face!” She leaned over the table and whispered loud, “I thought you were going to come right here in the middle of the restaurant.” She sat back up and asked Ford, “When can I get one of those things?”
“Stop by our booth tomorrow and I’ll make sure you get one. I had enough made up to give one to each of our best-selling retailers. Since it’s been tested and approved, I think we can go into production pretty quickly. What do you think, Becky Jean?”
“I think you played a dastardly trick on me.”
He flashed her the smile that had sold millions of sex toys via their home shopping television show and made him a billionaire. “They don’t call me Kinky Ford Adams for nothing, you know?”
Scott laughed. “I saw that! It was the article in Forbes magazine, right?”
“I don’t know. Do you remember, Becks?”
“Barron’s called him kinky. Forbes labeled him the Backdoor Billionaire.”
“That’s right.” Scott laughed. “God, who would have thought it?”
“Not me.” Lifting his wine glass to his lips, he took a sip. “I just wanted to keep the doors open for the year stipulated in Dad’s will and not lose everything we had in the process. Never dreamed things would take off the way they did.” He turned his gaze on Becky. “I owe it all to Becky Jean. Without her marketing and vision, we might have survived the year, but we would have bled money the entire time.”
She could feel everyone’s eyes on her. Ford had said much the same to her on numerous occasions, but this was the first time he’d acknowledged her contribution to others. This time when she squirmed in her seat, it had nothing to do with Ford’s infernal new device.
“I just put together a reasonable marketing plan. And anyone in the business knows, if your product is inferior, there’s nothing in the world you can say to make people buy it.”
“Are you saying our products are superior?”
“You know they are. Thanks to you”—she nodded at Ford then to Scott—“and you, too. The two of you have come up with innovative ideas that have the competition scrambling to keep up.”
“So tell me about this new one,” Roseanne said. “How does it work?”
Ford withdrew a small, square plastic box from his suit coat. It looked like a battery compartment for a toy, but there were no wires running from it, only an on/off switch on one end. “This is the transmitter and control box.” He pointed to the pin on his lapel. “This is a microphone.” He went on to explain how they would sell it with various types and styles of microphones to suit everyone’s needs.
“And the receiver part?” Roseanne asked Becky.
“Is no bigger than a quarter and is sewn into the fabric. You could wear the panties anywhere, and no one would be the wiser.”
“Unless you can’t control your responses,” her friend added.
~~~
Becky wiped tears from her eyes with one hand and held fast to Ford with the other as he maneuvered them to the stage door following Colin’s set. She was so freaking proud of her brother! She’d always known he had talent, but his sister’s opinion didn’t count. The reaction from the audience tonight had confirmed her assessment, though.
The guard scrutinized their credentials before ushering them backstage where another guard pointed them in the right direction. With the familiarity of their years growing up together, she easily found him talking to a group of men dressed in black T-shirts with STAFF printed on the back in bold lettering.
“Colin!” she cried out. Breaking her connection with Ford, she launched herself in his direction.
“Becky Jean!” A smile broke across his face, and he grabbed her up in a hug, nearly crushing her ribs. “God, am I glad to see you.”
“You were awesome!” She sniffed as more tears threatened. Colin set her down but seemed as reluctant to let her go as she was of him. “I’m so proud of you I could bust.” She wiped her eyes.
“You look like a million bucks in that dress.”
She didn’t want to think about what she’d spent on her gown. All their lives they’d had to watch their pennies. “Don’t get me started on what it cost,” she warned.
“Colin,” Ford said, snaking an arm around Becky’s waist. He extended his other to shake her brother’s hand. “Ford Adams. It’s nice to finally meet you. Your sister speaks of you often.”
“Nice to meet you,” Colin said. “Thanks for helping me surprise Becky Jean, even if I did have to spoil it at the last minute.”
“You should see her out front. Every time we walk past the marquee and your photo shows up, she points and shouts, ‘That’s my brother,’ at the top of her lungs.” Ford laughed as he hauled her closer.
Colin smiled. “Who’da thunk it? Right, Sis?”
“I never doubted you would make it.”
“You might have been the only one, but I’m grateful for your support. Always have been. You’re probably the only person who never tried to discourage me from pursuing my love of music.”
Becky’s heart was so full she was sure it would explode any minute. Colin had always had talent, but in the past few years, he’d grown into it. Success looked good on him. “Dad would be so proud of you.”
Colin’s smile dimmed, and his eyes glistened. “I know he would. He thought it was his duty to try to talk me out of going to Nashville, but when he failed to convince me, he backed off. Let me find my own way.”
“Mom sends her love. She said you promised to fly her out for your debut at the Opry?”
“I did. I want you to come, too, but I figured you could afford your own plane ticket.” He laughed, one eyebrow raised.
“Oh, you!” Becky’s cheeks grew warm. “Yes, I can afford mine and many, many others, thanks to Ford. He saved the town, Colin. You wouldn’t know it anymore. Businesses are reopening. Most of the vacant houses have been bought up and new ones are being built.”
“Sex sells, they say.” He winked at her and her face flamed.
“I suppose it does.”
“I’ve got some time tomorrow. Ford sent me a pass to the convention. I thought I could come by around lunch? Maybe we could get a bite together?”
“I’d love to! I have to warn you, our products are… are….”
“I know all about your products, Sis. I’m all grown up, remember?”
“Of course you are. It’s just—”
“It’s time for us to get back to our seats,” Ford said. “Say good-bye to your brother. You can take all the time you want tomorrow to catch up with him.”
“Bye, Sis.” Colin gave her another bear hug. “Thanks again for coming. Noon okay tomorrow?”
“Perfect,” she said.
“Colin.”
“Ford,” her brother said before he turned to greet a group of female fans who’d been waiting impatiently for him to acknowledge them.
They returned to their seats just as the lights dimmed for the headline act.
“How’s Colin?” Roseanne asked.
“He looks great! We’re having lunch tomorrow. You should come.”
Before her friend could answer, the stage burst to life as the renowned country rock band made their appearance. Becky stood along with everyone else to applaud. The opening chords of their first song rocked the building, but the accompanying vibration between her legs had all her attention.
She’d forgotten all about the tiny device in her panties. Now she couldn’t stop thinking about it. She grabbed Ford’s arm, turned her face into his sleeve, and held on for dear life as his wicked creation pulsed in time with the music. Holy smoke! She’d thought it couldn’t be more devastating than it had been when he’d turned it on in the restaurant, but boy had she been wrong.
The song ended, and the crowd settled into their seats. Thankfully, Ford turned the thing off while the lead singer spoke to the crowd, but the instant the band fired off again, so did the vibrator. Their second number was a ballad, and while the first song had translated into intense sensations, this one stimulated in soft waves, wrecking her control. Once again, she buried her face in his sleeve and squeezed his arm until her fingers cramped.
“Ford,” she pleaded.
He turned slightly, brushed her hair back from her face and leaned in so he could be heard. “Don’t fight it, sweetheart. Let it come.”
Of course, the microphone picked up every word he said, adding another layer of torture for her to deal with. She squirmed in her seat, and focused everything she had on not coming. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Ford.
“Quit fighting it, Becks.” He stroked her arm from shoulder to elbow while holding her as close as the theater seats would allow and placing soft kisses on the top of her head. She knew the song—had always loved it. It ended on a long, sustained note that warbled and spanned from one octave to another. There was no way she could ride it without coming. She just prayed everyone around her would be too caught up in the emotional ending on stage to witness her surrender to the inevitable.
Ford nibbled on her earlobe then whispered, “God, I love making you come.”
As the last word passed his lips, the lead singer let loose, working the syllables up and down the musical scale. His keening wale of love lost forever wrung emotion from the audience who had grown quiet with expectation. Her clit throbbed in time with the music. Every muscle in her body tensed. No. No. No. She fought to hang onto the last threads of her control.
With a final burst from his lungs, the singer hit the last note. The crowd erupted, applauding and cheering at the same instant Becky lost her battle. The orgasm barreled through her like a runaway locomotive. She threw her head back, and before the scream rising from her core could make it past her lips, Ford yanked her into his lap and covered her mouth with his. Her entire body quaked with the force of her release, but Ford’s hands were on her, his arms bracketing her, holding all the pieces of her together until they somehow reassembled themselves.
The audience rose to their feet—all except the two of them—as the band segued into another of their fast-paced hit songs. Becky jerked, the vibrations almost painful after her intense orgasm. Ford chuckled. Shifting her slightly, he reached into his jacket pocket. She welcomed the ensuing calm between her legs, but on the other hand, her body craved the stimulation. She clenched her thighs, savoring the last lingering internal spasms.
“Better?” Ford asked.
Unwilling to trust her voice, she nodded against his shoulder. She didn’t seem to have a solid bone in her body, but the man holding her seemed to be granite from his chest to his thighs supporting her. The thick ridge of his erection gouged her hip—a reminder he’d given, not taken. He held her through two more songs she barely heard for the warnings clamoring in her head. She wanted so much more from this man, but even though he claimed he wouldn’t sell his and his mother’s share of the company, he hadn’t said anything about staying in Texas. She’d foolishly fallen in love with him. Spending more time in his bed would only make his leaving worse, but if he asked, she wouldn’t turn him down.
Holding her in his lap while she came down from what had appeared to be an intense orgasm was Heaven and Hell. He had her right where he wanted her, in his arms, but he couldn’t do the things he wanted to do to her, with her, in the middle of a concert. If anyone had noticed her behavior earlier, they’d given no indication—save Roseanne and Scott who’d picked up the cues early on and had the decency to look away.
“Is she okay?” Roseanne mouthed.
“Fine,” he silently answered.
Becky Jean’s friend smiled her understanding. Ford made some hand gestures he hoped conveyed his intention to get them out of there. Roseanne wiggled her fingers in a good-bye gesture, so he figured the message had been received. Scott caught his gaze, leaned in so his date could speak into his ear. He lifted his head again and nodded.
With his intentions known to their friends, he shifted Becky Jean so she could hear him. “Can you walk?”
She looked up at him, confusion marring her features.
“I want to take you someplace private,” he said into her ear.
“Okay,” she said with a nod.
“Think you can walk out of here?”
Another nod then she stood. Roseanne tugged on the hem of his coat. He turned, and she handed him Becky Jean’s small purse. He smiled his thanks, then with a hand on the small of her back, he followed Becky Jean past the others in their row. Once they’d cleared the theater doors, he took over, guiding her through the casino to the bank of elevators that would take them to their rooms. He paused before pushing the call button. “Unless you’d like a drink?”
She’d worn the vibrator of her own free will, but he’d been the one to force her orgasm. The least he could do would be to offer her the opportunity to slow things down—or heaven forbid—say no. When she shook her head and nodded to the button, his lungs began to work again.
If she’d said no, he would have respected her wishes, but it would have cost him to do it. Nothing short of burying his cock inside her would ease the ache in his groin. She was so damn beautiful, and fuck, he loved to watch her come. He would have nail marks in his arm from where she’d clung to him earlier. Did it make him a bastard to be proud of the marks she’d put on him in the throes of passion? If it did, he’d wear the label.
The doors opened, and, luckily, they were the only ones to enter the car. As soon as the doors closed, he backed her into the corner and switched on the device.
“Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you?” he asked, letting his invention translate his words into action. He traced the line of her jaw with the knuckle of his index finger then stroked his thumb over her quivering bottom lip. He didn’t expect a verbal answer. Instead, he watched her breath hitch and her eyelids flutter shut. He pressed his hips into hers, letting her feel what she did to him.
“I’ve wanted you since you opened your door this evening looking like a goddess.” He paused, adjusted to better feel the vibrations. Satisfied with the new position, he continued. “Your sexy leg sticking out of the slit in the skirt—taunting me.” His fingers found her bare thigh. He slipped his hand beneath the heavy fabric to caress her skin. “So hot. So soft. I want to see you… every last inch of you.”
Damn. He ground his teeth together and canted his hips away from her. He’d had no idea how powerful his toy could be. If he kept this up much longer, he would make himself come! He made a mental note to have the technical writing department add this position to the instruction sheet to be included with each device then focused on his goal—making his woman come.
His woman. He liked the sound of that. In all his years, he’d never wanted to possess a woman the way he wanted to possess this one. So prim and proper in public, she let loose in bed, and damn if he didn’t want to be the last man to ever see her do it.
He ground against her again, slid the hand he’d slipped under her dress around to cup her butt. “I want to taste you.” He squeezed her ass cheek. “I want to take a bite out of your ass, mark you as mine.”
Becky Jean moaned, and the sound translated into vibration nearly sent him over the edge. He backed away once more, this time promising himself he’d stay away until they got to his room. Then all bets were off.
The car came to a stop. He glanced over his shoulder, noted the floor display. Reaching into his pocket, he managed to turn the vibrator off a split second before the doors slid open to admit two couples dressed for a night on the town. They pushed the button for the rooftop lounge. Ford snaked an arm around Becky Jean’s waist and pulled her in close. When the elevator stopped at their floor, he steered her past the rowdy bunch and toward his room.
“You’re a wicked man, Ford Adams.” Hearing the laughter behind her words, he tossed the keycard on the nearest flat surface then turned to the woman who had made him rethink everything in his life from where he wanted to live to what he wanted out of life. He’d never cared much for the plight of others, but Becky Jean’s insistence on hiring local had opened his eyes to the way his decisions affected other people’s lives. She made him want to be a better person. She made him want. Period.
“I’ve never claimed to be anything else,” he said, stalking her. She took a step back—a halfhearted attempt to get away, at best. He stopped an arm’s length from her and smiled. “Admit it, you had fun tonight.”
Her face flushed with color, and her lips parted as she prepared to deny the truth.
“Turn around,” he said, spinning his finger in the air. “I need to see you.”
Her gaze met his for a second—long enough for him to see she wanted to continue what they’d started as much as he did. Then she showed him her back. He stepped in behind her and brushed her hair over one shoulder. “Where the hell is the zipper?”
“Oh! Here.” She lifted her arm and pointed to the tiny tab. “Sorry. I forgot.”
“No problem.” He’d planned on nibbling his way down her spine, but this had possibilities. He grasped the zipper pull and tugged it down until it bottomed out just past the curve of her hip. He caught a glimpse of creamy skin and the band of the panties he’d sent her—and nothing else. Damn, she knew how to do sexy. He slid his hand into the gap in the fabric just below her rib cage, his palm finding soft, warm skin at the small of her back. As he guided her around to face him and took her lips with his, he instantly became a fan of side zippers.
Cupping the back of her head in his free hand, he explored the hills and valleys of her ass with the other. Becky Jean groaned and melted against him which he took as permission to continue his exploration. He’d had his hands beneath dresses before, but there was something sneaky and exciting about slipping in from the side. Like he’d found a secret entrance no one else knew about. Fuck, why didn’t every dress have one of these?
Needing air, he dragged his lips from hers but continued to nibble along her jaw. Fingers still entwined in her hair, he tugged her head to the side. He kissed his way down the slope of her neck, loving the way her pulse beat out a wild rhythm, matching his own. He couldn’t resist. He opened wide and bit. Not hard enough to mar her perfect skin, but hard enough to get her attention.
“Oh god. Ford.” The breathless way she said his name had to be one of the hottest things he’d ever heard in his life. He bit her again, lower this time. She moaned and arched her back so her breasts pressed hard against his chest. He used his chin to scootch the strap of her dress off her shoulder. It slid down and caught on his forearm. He proceeded to kiss and nibble his way south to the tender swell of flesh. Using his teeth, he tugged the fabric lower. Lower. Her scent, magnified by the heat of her body, filled his nostrils as he slowly, slowly, revealed the top of her breast. Then the areola. Then his upper lip skimmed her nipple, and he lost it.
“Fuck, Becks.” He grabbed at the dress again with his teeth—captured it and yanked like a beast tearing at the skin of a carcass to get to the meat underneath. The instant her breast popped free of the confining cloth, he attacked, nipping at her beauty, licking, and finally sucking the hardened nub into his mouth.
He couldn’t get enough of her. Couldn’t get close enough to sate his need. Savage. He knew it but couldn’t stop. Yanking on her hair, he bent her over the arm banded around her waist. Her fingernails digging into his scalp were matches thrown on the bonfire raging inside him. Her breathless pleas, “God. Please. Ford. Need. You,” were giant-assed logs that incinerated the last vestiges of his control.
He couldn’t wait another minute to have her.
Pulling her upright, he took another second to admire the feel of her skin beneath the beaded dress. He’d made a mess of her hair, but what utterly destroyed him was the sight of her breast, bared for him while the rest of her remained perfectly clothed. “God, Becks. I’ve never seen…. You take my breath away.”
“Ford.”
Need. It rang in his ears, broke the spell she’d cast over him. He mentally clicked the shutter on the picture before him. Knew it would forever be burned on his brain, and no matter what happened between them in the future, he’d treasure this moment. This memory. “Take that dress the fuck off.”
The shrug of a shoulder. A hip wiggle and it fell into a pool of midnight and glittering stars around her ankles. She wore the panties he’d given her and some kind of strappy sandals with heels a mile high, making her legs look longer than fuck. He had things he wanted to do to her with those panties, but they could wait. He needed to be inside her. No gimmicks. No toys. Nothing but her and him and whatever the fuck he was feeling.
“Off.” He pointed at her crotch. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband and, with another hip shimmy, added the panties to the pile at her ankles.
He made a conscious effort to breathe as he gazed at the woman before him. The scent of her arousal, heavy on the air, nearly brought him to his knees. His heart kicked and his dick throbbed, anxious to get out of the starting gate. He reached for his belt buckle.