Shay
Bad Dreams
Ford changes the damp sheets before we climb under the blankets and doze off. I’m exhausted after the last few days. Ford seems tired too. It’s strange to see him vulnerable. I even find myself feeling protective of him. That’s when I know I’m loopy. No way can I do anything to protect Ford.
My dream is a mess of monsters and screaming. I run and run, but never find my way out of danger until I wake up shaking. Terrified, I look around and remember I’m in Little Memphis. With my home so far away, homesickness overwhelms me.
Leaving a sleeping Ford, I grab my damp shirt and panties then leave the room and hide in the bathroom.
I miss my brothers. My mom too. Our little two bedroom apartment with the Spanish-style kitchen tiles and ugly brown carpet. I miss our neighbors, even the ones with the yappy dogs. I miss my grandparents who’ve been dead for years. I miss high school friends I was never close to and hadn’t spoken with since graduating. I miss everything about Hawthorne. Mostly, I miss the bedroom I shared with Donnie Jr. and Devin.
I don’t know how long I cry before my tears turn to sniffles. My head hurting and eyes burning, I hate being at Ford’s house when I feel so bad.
Why am I playing with a guy like him? I think I’m so funny and tough. I can handle the ride, but here I am crying in his bathroom like a kid.
“Shay?” Ford’s sleepy voice says through the door.
I don’t respond immediately. He sounds tense, angry maybe. If he yells at me, I might cry again. I don’t want to talk to him. I just want to go home.
After washing my face, I answer the door and try to seem casual. Ford looks menacing backlit by the hall light. His big hand tilts my chin up as he studies my face.
“Why?” he asks rather than what’s wrong.
“I had a bad dream.”
I don’t know why I tell him the truth. I guess I’m too tired to lie. A part of me hopes he’ll get annoyed and take me home.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“For what?”
“I don’t know,” he says, scratching at his beard. “We could talk or something. Better than you crying in here.”
“When I had bad dreams at home, I’d crawl in my brothers’ bed. They shared a queen size and I’d get between them then turn on the TV. I miss that.”
Tears blurring my vision, I say the words. “I think I made a mistake coming to Little Memphis.”
Ford doesn’t react. A moment passes before he steps back and gestures for me to leave the bathroom. I obey with the assumption that he’ll take me to Darby’s house. Instead, we get to his bedroom and he locks the door.
“You shouldn’t wear wet shit,” he says softly, opening his dresser. “This will warm you up.”
After stripping out of my damp clothes, I slide the long sleeve jersey over my head. The shirt is way too big, but comfortable.
Ford pulls back the blankets and waits for me to climb in. Once he joins me, he turns on the TV and flips to the History Channel. I watch him and wonder what he’s thinking.
“When I have nightmares,” he finally says, “I put on this channel and it bores me back to sleep.”
“You have nightmares?”
Ford frowns at me. “I’m a human being, so yeah.”
“Sorry. I think of you as better, I guess.”
He gives me a little nod then sighs. “I don’t want you to leave town, but I can’t tell you what’s right for you. I can say you shouldn’t make any decisions when you’re tired and upset. You’ll make a stupid choice. So if you want my advice, go to sleep and make your decision when you feel more like you.”
“Makes sense.”
I lean my head against his bare shoulder while we watch a show about Alaska’s history.
“Tell me one thing,” he asks after we’ve bored ourselves for ten minutes. “Are you upset tonight because of me or you?”
“Me,” I whisper.
Ford nods and gives me a sideways glance. “Ready to sleep? I’ll leave the TV on.”
After we scoot under the blankets, I stare at him while he stares back at me. We’re both tired. I’m sad and I sense he isn’t very happy either. His shirt feels warm against my skin, but I want to be closer. I remember my dream and how lost I felt. I need to be connected to the here and now.
I take his hand and slide it under the shirt. “I’m cold.”
Ford doesn’t smile. His eyes are exhausted. His hand responds to my words though, moving upward to my right breast. I’m not really aroused in a sexual way, but I want him closer. I hunger to feel less like me than an extension of Ford.
His lips finding mine, he kisses me slowly. Soon he’s inside me, but we’re not really fucking. More than sex, our bodies share warmth and acceptance. My nightmare feels a million years ago. Now, I only see Ford and he’s all I dream.
Shay
Clusterfuck
The sun can’t penetrate Ford’s dark curtains. I only see hints of light at the window’s corners. Struggling to sit up, I glance at the DVR to check the time. It’s already ten and I’m sleeping like a woman with nowhere to go and not a responsibility in the world.
I look at my left and find Ford gone. Sighing, I roll out of bed and dig out a pair of clean panties and sweat shorts from my bag. I leave on his shirt because it’s warm, comfy, and his.
After a trip to the restroom to make myself presentable, I look for Ford. He’s at a little kitchen table, drinking coffee. Pax stands at the counter, drinking too. They both look at me expressionless when I enter the room.
Pax smiles first. “Nice shirt. Just great.”
Ford rolls his eyes then walks to the coffee pot. He pours a cup then places it on the table next to him.
“Pax made a donut run earlier. Come and enjoy his generosity.”
Sitting next to Ford, I smell the fresh coffee. He watches me for a minute then focuses on his brother.
“Would it be rude to ask you to go away?”
“Better hope you never need a kidney, alchie.”
Ford grins as Pax stomps to the back deck with Folgers. Biting into one of the donuts, I moan quietly at the freshness of the glazed slice of heaven. Ford glances at me and I think he wants to fuck. The look in his eyes makes me uneasy.
“I’ve never had fresh donuts before,” I say.
“Living the dream, huh?”
“Are you angry?”
“No, you’ll know when I’m pissed. Trust me.”
Shrugging, I return to my donut. Ford eats one too then washes his hands. When he returns to the table, his damp fingers dive straight into my hair. His lips are on mine and I’m glad I manage to swallow in time.
“You look really fucking hot in my shirt.”
“Not surprising since you look hot in them too. I think they’re magical shirts.”
Ford moves me over to his lap and I find him hard against my leg.
“You were waiting patiently for me to wake up,” I say, caressing his face. “You’re such a gentleman.”
Growling, Ford slides his hand up my shirt and pinches my left nipple. “Have you eaten enough? Drank enough coffee?”
“I want to fuck,” I whisper in his ear.
Ford jumps up as if someone set off a firecracker in his ass. I’m in his arms as he rushes to the bedroom and kicks the door shut. My clothes come off faster than his and he cusses at his jeans for giving him trouble. On my knees, I bounce around on the bed and watch him struggle. It’s a helluva sight.
After he gets the first fuck out of the way, I explore all his hard flesh. My lips and fingers tease while he rests with an arm behind his head.
“Where do you work out?” I ask, just to hear him speak.
“Gym on the bottom floor.”
Taking his hard cock in my hands, I whisper, “Can I work out there so I can be big and strong like you?”
“I can’t handle a conversation right now, Shay.”
“Ahh, you remembered my name. I guess you still have a little blood left in your big head.”
Before Ford can respond, I lick the head of his cock and he relaxes. This big scary man is my slave while I learn to give a blowjob. I know the logistics, of course. Yet I can only learn the specifics through trial and error. Lesson one: no teeth.
A few times Ford’s hand presses against my head and I know he wants to take control and make me do it his way. I glare up at him and he always smiles. Ford apparently finds it funny when I act tough with his cock in my mouth. Not an intimidating picture, I’m sure.
I’m afraid of the end. In the porn I watched, the girl always gets stuff in her eyes and I’m not doing that. EVER! I want to make Ford feel good though. He makes me feel good every time and I know he holds back. Even now he doesn’t take control. I’m learning and he doesn’t want to spook me.
I love the sound Ford makes when he comes. His moans encourage me and I feel like a damn pro by the time he’s quiet. I lick his cock, wanting to savor my triumph. I might have sucked him forever if Ford didn’t reach down and caress my cheek.
“Uncle, Shay.”
“Huh?”
“Relent.”
I crawl up over him and hesitate about kissing. “What’s the protocol here?”
Ford rolls his eyes and wraps me in his arms. “Life isn’t about rules. It isn’t about anything. It just exists.”
Before I can ask him what the hell he’s talking about, Ford kisses me and I moan into his mouth. He feels so warm against my body and I want to play around more.
My fingers reach for his hair, teasing his scalp. I want to know every inch of his perfect body. Not just know it. I want to own this sexy beast. I want everything from Ford then I want even more. I’m now a woman suffering from an insatiable hunger.
Ford’s hands cup my butt and guide me over his cock. I squirm lower until the thick head spreads my pussy.
“I’ve never been on top,” I sigh, pressing slowly as he fills me. “Show me how.”
“Nothing to show. No rules, remember?”
I place my hands on his chest and adjust to the full feeling. “You want to come, don’t you?”
Ford smirks. “You just have to move and I’ll come. Most guys aren’t complicated. It’s chicks that need all the special shit to get off.”
“Speaking of chicks needing help, will you play with my nipples? I really like that.”
Ford’s cock twitches inside me and I realize the fucker is my pet. Knowing I absolutely own him makes me laugh. Yet Ford loses his smile.
“Don’t get arrogant,” he says, sliding his calloused hands up my hips to my waist before finally cupping my breasts.
I close my eyes while he tugs and teases my hard nipples. Moving slowly, I work to find a rhythm that makes me happy. After all, Ford claims he doesn’t care. Once I find a good pace, I work myself closer to an orgasm. His fingers don’t relent until I’ve cried out random cuss words. Clusterfuck is the word that sends Ford into snickers.
“Shut up,” I say, coming down from the pleasure. “Oh, I’m so good at this. I plan to make many a man my slave.”
I open my eyes to find Ford glaring at me. Smiling, I wink at him and keep moving.
“What do I need to do to make you come?” I say, getting tired.
“Stop talking about other guys while my cock is inside you.”
“Sounds complicated. Anything else?”
Ford finally grins. “Lick your lips. I like that.”
Obeying him, I run my tongue slowly over my lips. His hands go to my hips, guiding me to move faster.
“Do you like this?” I whisper.
“You have no idea.”
I grin until his fingers find my clit. Just like that, I’m no longer in control. Shuddering, I struggle to steady my rhythm even with him teasing me so perfectly.
“Fuck you,” I say, rushing towards another orgasm.
“Bring me with you, Shay.”
His voice sends me over the edge and I can’t believe how my body reacts. Every nerve on fire, I whimper rather than cry out. I don’t know how to handle such bliss. Having Ford see me so vulnerable makes the pleasure too much.
Ford sits up and wraps his arms around me. His hips thrust up, meeting mine. I cling to him and hide my face in the crook of his neck. My body doesn’t belong to me. I feel like it’s betrayed me.
My feelings might be stupid, but they’re real. The lack of control I feel hollows me out. I can only hold onto Ford as if he’s my anchor and I’ll disappear without him.
Ford doesn’t analyze or discuss feelings. With me shaking in his arms and hiding my face against him, he knows I’m upset. He asks no questions though. He simply holds me until I look at him. When we stare into each other’s eyes, I feel us make the silent decision to ignore my fear.
My trembling ends and Ford says he wants a shower. We walk naked down the hall to his bathroom, yet I never think about Pax until hot water soaks my hair. The shower stall isn’t very big and Ford has me go first.
He leans against the wall, holding back the curtain and watching me wash my hair. His gaze is soft and unreadable. He could be admiring me or simply thinking of how to get me out of his house without making me cry.
By the time I wash conditioner from my hair, I’m fairly sure Ford approves of the view. I avoid looking at his erection since fucking is the last thing I want right now. Tired and depressed, I mostly feel exposed under his gaze.
Ford doesn’t touch me. He hands me a towel then changes places. I dry off and wrap my hair up on my head. My clothes aren’t in the bathroom and I don’t want to walk naked down the hall without Ford. So I lean against the wall and peek in at him.
Washing his hair then face, he doesn’t make a show for my benefit. I see him the way he is, not what he fakes for the world. Even gorgeous and powerful, he’s just a man.
The vulnerability everyone reveals when soaking wet in the shower makes him real to me in a way he hadn’t been before. My fear fades and I awake to this new reality. Ford is flesh and bone. In this moment, he’s a treasure, inspiring me to reach out and touch him.
Ford turns when my fingers brush his arm. He wipes water from his eyes and lets his gaze roll over my body. My nipples harden to pink points and I cross my arms over them. I think he’ll smirk at how he affects me. Instead, he finishes washing soap from his body.
Admiring his tanned shoulders, back, and chest, I imagine him shirtless in the summer. Does he work outside with Pax on their Harleys? Do they play sports? I think of them cooking burgers out back on a hot summer day. There’s so much I don’t know about Ford. Hell, I don’t even know what he’ll do in the next five minutes.
I assume he’ll want me to join him in the shower. When he turns off the water and dries off, his cock is hard and pre-cum rises at the tip. Yet Ford never makes a move for me. He only tosses his towel over the shower bar then heads for the door. He opens it, peeks outside, and gestures for me to go in front of him.
Ford shuts the bedroom door and I think he wants me to leave. I reach for my clothes until his fingers skim my spine. My body reacting immediately, I turn to him.
“I don’t know what you want,” I whisper.
Ford pinches my hard nipples. “It’s not that complicated.”
“You ignored me in the shower.”
“No,” he says, flicking my nipples and making me shiver, “that shower isn’t big enough for a good fuck and I need one. Watching you wash your hair was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
Ford sucks my lower lip then bites at it gently. “No, the hottest part was when you washed your pussy and grimaced because it had been fucked so hard. You were in pain, but you licked your lips too. Were you thinking about me?”
Breathing faster, I press my hands against his chest and feel his heart beating hard. He isn’t a disinterested fucker. Ford wants me and I feel no shame in admitting I want him too.
“I was,” I whisper, caressing his cock. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Ford shoves his hands into my hair and pulls me tight for a kiss that steals my breath. Our lips locked together, we shuffle back towards the bed. Ford eases me onto the bed. His lips never relent. I only breathe as he breathes. Then suddenly, his lips leave mine.
Nipping at my waist, Ford kisses my hands when they reach for him. Those return to my waist, moving lower. I whimper the moment his teeth stop tempting my inner thighs long enough for his tongue to find my clit.
My body begs me not to let him stop. I’m already so close when his hot, persistent tongue forces me into pure blinding bliss. I don’t know if I’m forming words. I might just be groaning or speaking gibberish. I’m lost in the pleasure. This time though, I know Ford will bring me back. I trust him as he sucks at my tender pussy.
Nearly stunned by the time Ford’s lips find mine again, I can’t keep up with his hunger. I slide my fingers over his muscled arms then caress the thick patch of hair on his chest. Quickly, he’s inside me, moving hard and fast.
The indifference he faked in the shower gone, Ford’s now a man possessed. I take great pride in the need in his dark blue eyes. This sexy beast wants me so much he can barely control himself. Hell, if I don't I feel like a frigging goddess.