TAUT: The Ford Book
Luck. We are not on speaking terms, luck and I. Because my name is not Ronin Flynn. Luck loves him. Shit, if Ronin was in this predicament, he’d have broken down across from the Four Seasons, they’d tell him they only had the penthouse available, and he could have it for half price since it was sitting empty anyway. They’d send up complimentary fruit baskets and give him free spa passes to ease his worried brow.
I laugh. The sad thing is that it’s closer to the truth than I’d like to admit. Ronin is like… walking magic when it comes to life. Everything he wants, he gets. People love him immediately. They don’t scowl at him because he conjures up memories of almost blowing people up on the golf course or electrocuting boys in the skate park bathroom, or for being the town freak who read every book in the library, even the dictionary and the encyclopedias.
I have had my share of women, albeit on my own very strict no-touching terms. But Ronin has women throwing themselves at him everywhere he goes.
It’s… it’s infuriating. He’s literally a professional liar, for fuck’s sake, and all they see is sweet perfection. But when they look at me they see freak.
I’m a goddamned movie producer. I know famous people. I have a mountain home in Vail, a luxury condo in Denver, and a five-million-dollar monstrosity on Mulholland Drive in Bel Air. I take care of myself, I’m well educated, I’m not bad-looking. I’m sorta hot, actually. I know this,
I have no trouble finding sex when I want it.
And yet I get sluts. I swear. Sluts who don’t even blink when I tell them they can’t touch me.
And Ronin? He gets Rook.
She does not give one fancy fuck what Ronin’s part in our business is. Her exact words. Not one fancy fuck. She loves him, no matter what. Unconditionally. She rode a thousand miles on a motorcycle back to the place where the most horrific things happened to her, stole secret files, and almost got her legs burned off in a house fire to save his professionally lying ass.
And I get no-name pets who want me to bend them over a couch and smack their pussy to make them come.
It’s just… what the fuck? Why? It’s like I have a sign on my fucking head that says I like the weird ones.
I shut the shower down and dry off, then wrap the towel around my waist and go hunting for a toothbrush in the medicine cabinet. The girl already has hers out, sticking up out of a cup next to the sink. I open a new one for me, then some toothpaste and brush my teeth to chase away the whiskey.
I leave the bathroom and cross the hall to my room and flick on the light so I can find some clothes.
And stop dead.
That fucking girl is sleeping in my bed. Her shirt—actually, my shirt, it says CU Buffs on the sleeve—is pulled up to her neck, exposing her swollen breasts. Her nipples are large and a shade or two darker than her slightly olive skin. The baby is lying next to her, right up against her belly, but she’s also sleeping.
I flick the light off and stand in the doorway, backlit by the hall light.
“I’m awake,” Ashleigh says. “If you need clothes, just go ahead and turn on the light. I’m awake.”
I flick it back on and notice the shirt has been pulled down. “Sorry, I just assumed you’d be in the other room.”
“You said you were gonna sleep downstairs. Did you change your mind?”
I can’t speak for a moment, because it almost sounds like an invitation. I look at her. I mean, really look at her. She’s pretty, but not in any way beautiful or striking. More cute than anything. She has a curvy shape about her. Not so much her body, but her face, her features. They’re not angular and hard, they’re round and soft. Her eyes are large and brown, like her long hair, and they have a slight almond shape, like she has some Asian heritage. She’s small. Tiny really, for a girl who just gave birth a few months ago. She was probably one of those pregnant girls who are all belly and breasts.
“No, I didn’t change my mind. I just… need some clothes.”
“OK,” she says and then clutches the baby to her chest and turns over, exposing her pink panty-covered ass. It’s a stark contrast to the dark blue comforter as it peeks out. I have an urge to slap it.
I laugh at this and she turns back, this time without the baby. “What’s funny?”
I surrender with my hands up. “You wanted me to notice your ass when you turned? Mission accomplished. But I don’t like a tease, so don’t start something you can’t finish.”
She stares hard at me and I feel a little nervous about what kind of reaction she might have. “I’m sure I can handle it.”
I raise my eyebrows but I’m not sure what to say back. I might be at a loss for words. I’m sure I can handle it. “Is that a challenge? Or an offer?”
“Take it however you want.” She closes her eyes and then slips her hand between her legs. I’m not sure she’s doing anything naughty with it, but it’s provocative all the same. “Why are you still standing there?” she asks with her eyes still closed.
“I’m having trouble controlling myself, to be honest. I might just think of it as both an offer and a challenge.”
Her eyes open at my response and then she throws the covers off, baring her legs all the way up to her panties. She gets up and then walks out the door, shutting the light off as she goes.
I don’t let her get more than a few paces before I grab her around the middle and push her face first against the wall. I drop my towel and jam my thigh between her legs. “Open,” I growl into her ear.
She obeys without words and my dick expands to its full thickness as she presses her ass into me.
“What do you like, Ashleigh? You like it slow and tender? Because if so, you’re out of luck. I’m not that kind of guy.” I press my chest into her back and I can almost feel her rapidly beating heart.
“I like what you like, Rutherford.”
She says my name like she knows me intimately. It almost puts me off my game, because I’m not used to the women I fuck speaking, let alone addressing me by my given name. “You have no idea what I like and if I were you, I’d be careful what you agree to. Because I like it dirty and if I decide to fuck you, I’ll expect compliance.”
“Just get me off,” she says in a low whisper.
“Ford?” she says in an overly sweet voice.
“Yes, Ashleigh?” I look over at her with a dimpled grin.
“I’m gonna get you back for all this control, you do realize that, right?”
I reach over and grab her thigh. She jumps a little and lets out a gasp. “I never lose, Ash. Never. So if you think you can get me back by playing nasty with me tonight, then by all means, show me what a loser I am.” And then I slip my hand down her thigh and pinch her skin until she yelps. Before her hand can even move to swat mine off, I’m caressing her pussy through her jeans. “Do not come or I will tease you and withhold orgasms later.”
She holds her breath and nods.
I let up on the pressure. “Unbutton and unzip your pants.”
She breathes. But she obeys. She pops the button and the zipper makes a soft ripping sound.
“Stick your hand inside your panties.”
She doesn’t even hesitate and this makes me so fucking hard. I can feel her fingers through her jeans. “I can feel everything you do, Ashleigh. I’ll let you come right now, but you have to do all the work. Are you ready?”
“I’m ready,” she whispers. When I look over at her she’s looking right back at me. Her stare never wavers.
I look back to the road. This highway is deserted. No one is traveling I-70 west with us. There are cars every now and then going east, but very few.
“Begin,” I command.
She shudders before she even starts and I almost die thinking she already came. But it was just an excited shudder, not an orgasm. She begins in slow circles over her clit. I press down a little and her breathing becomes heavier. She continues this a few more times but then she scoots her butt down more towards the edge of the seat and slips in farther. I can feel the back of her hand on my palm through the thick fabric, and then it dips. “Tell me what you just did, Ash.”
“Put my fingers inside me,” she says in a low, breathy voice.
“Does it feel good?”
“Not as good as yours would. But I’ll make do.”
I say nothing to her joking, just cup her hand with mine and increase her movements. Her other hand hovers over mine. “Can I touch you, Ford?”
“Yes,” I say, because I want her. I want her more than I don’t want to be touched. Her hand rests on top of mine. It’s very small, and I chance a look over to compare sizes. “Keep on task.”
She pumps into herself and then she takes my hand and places it over her belly, where the opening in her jeans is. “I want you to touch my skin.”
“You’ll get your wish,” I tell her with my eyes still on the road. “But for now—” I withdraw my hand and put it back on the steering wheel. “For now, you will pleasure yourself to satisfy me.”
“I’m going to imagine you doing it, then.”
“That’s against the rules, you should be thinking only of how much you will please me by following my instructions.”
“I don’t care, it’s my mind and I’ll picture you fingering me if I want.” And then she opens her eyes all the way and stares at me. I look away and concentrate on the road. “And you will never know, Ford. Because you’re not a mind-reader.”
I want to thump my head against the steering wheel repeatedly, that’s how crazy she’s driving me with this rebellion. That’s how bad she’s being. If she was one of my pets I’d have her strapped face first to a wall, gagged and blindfolded right now—she’d be getting the spanking of her life. And I wouldn’t feel bad about it at all. I’d enjoy it.