She squeezed a tad tighter and pressed her lips to his. “Oh, I’m just getting started.” With that, she backed up then bent over. Her ass high in the air. What Ford wouldn’t do for a mirror. Although everything around him went blank the moment she took him in her mouth. The moan escaping his lips couldn’t be helped. Not with the way her tongue rolled around his cock’s head and the way her hand glided slowly along his shaft. And definitely not with the way her own hips rolled as she massaged him with her mouth, as if she was picturing his cock inside of her in a different way than at present.
He ran his hand along the arch of her back as she sucked on him. The last time he had a blow job was . . . damn. He couldn’t even remember. Though maybe that was because none of them were worth remembering. But this one? Oh, this was a blow job he’d never forget.
Everything about this moment, he’d never forget. And he didn’t want Corrie forgetting it, either.
Well, that and he selfishly wanted to taste her, too.
He reached around and ran his hand around the curve of her hip, then pulled her panties to the side, slipping his fingers inside her. Feeling her wetness almost made him come, but no. He couldn’t come before giving her pleasure, too.
Their bodies broke apart and Ford climbed onto the bed beside her. They both rested on their sides, heads opposite each other, and he situated himself with his mouth in front of her panties. With a slow glide, he slid her panties off then dove between her legs, alternating between lapping at her clit and dragging his tongue in long, wide strokes along her slit. Tasting her like she was the best damn dessert he’d ever had.
“Oh God, Ford. There . . . right there . . .”
He gripped her ass, pulling her tightly against his face. He had one mission and one mission only—to satisfy her. No, not just satisfy. To worship her. But when she pulled him back into her mouth doing the same, he wouldn’t last much longer. Not when hearing her moans, no, feeling her moans on his cock. And not with the way she continued to roll her hips against his face.
“Ford . . .” she said, pulling her mouth off him but continuing to pump his shaft, “I’m going to come.”
“Me too,” he said between licks.
She bobbed on his head a few more times before pulling away and letting him come on her tits. Twelve years of tension released. Twelve years since the moment he’d first laid eyes on Corrie Mejía. A wave of ecstasy washed over his body as he buried his face and moaned into her as she convulsed against him, her satisfied cries sending another warm surge over him. He laid back, trying to catch his breath and placing a hand on his chest. The room was silent aside from their panting breaths.
“Don’t forget to order those condoms.”
Chapter
Thirteen
There was nothing boring about Ford Matthews. Not the way he kissed. Or the way he performed oral sex. And certainly not his body.
With Corrie’s romantic life consisting primarily of casual sexual encounters—okay, only of casual sexual encounters—she’d grown pretty accustomed to men with nice bodies. She wasn’t exactly swiping right because of their personalities, that was for sure. Sometimes that meant the guys she hooked up with were more into their own bodies than hers. Those were the ones who she’d pass on for a repeat.
Then there was Ford, focused on her pleasure and oblivious to his abs, chest, emerald eyes, and flawless cock.
How had this man not been banging women left and right? It was a shame, really, that he was keeping his body all to himself. He even smelled good, which, after being in the jungle for more than three months, was surprising. It was likely only his deodorant or body wash, but the juniper aroma was divine to Corrie’s senses.
Which made it even harder to work beside him the following day without trying to find a place behind a tree or a boulder where he could go down on her again.
He acted normally, saying good morning to her and the others like it was any ordinary day. Said hello with the same face that had been buried between her legs less than eight hours earlier. Hmm . . . did his face still smell like her? He acted so casually, though, that she wondered if she was on his mind at all.
He ate his breakfast across the table from her, treating her no differently than he treated Ethan or Sunny. Frankly, it was pissing her off. She might not have been like those full-of-themselves guys she’d met on Tinder, but she had a rocking body. And she gave a fantastic blow job. So why wasn’t he flashing her any suggestive looks? Or checking out her breasts, which she was not-so-subtly displaying in her low-cut tank? Hell, every other guy at the table—and Sunny—had checked them out at least once already. Ford hadn’t even taken a peek.
Had Corrie let Ford play her again?
“Dr. Matthews,” Sunny said, approaching the table, holding the sat phone, “They want to know if there are any more supplies to add to the drop on Monday.”
Ford perked up and quickly glanced at Corrie before looking at Sunny.
“Um, yeah.” He wiped his mouth and started to stand.
“Oh, I got it,” Sunny said. “Let me know what it is, and I’ll take care of it.”
But Ford didn’t back down, glancing at Corrie one more time. “No, I’ve got it,” he said, reaching for the phone then walking away—far away—from the table.
Corrie couldn’t help the smile on her face as she continued eating her breakfast. Condoms. He was thinking about her after all.
“That was weird,” Ethan said to Corrie. “Why wouldn’t he want us to know what supplies he’s getting?”
Corrie shrugged, trying to play it off. “You know how he is.”
“Well, I’m not sure if you’ve had any success getting him to open up, but he still doesn’t tell me anything.”
“He’s certainly private.”
“Yeah . . . maybe he needs hemorrhoid cream.”
Corrie snickered. “Nah. He’s probably getting lube.” Or something like that. She smirked, knowing she wasn’t too far off.
And Ethan’s laugh signaled that he had no clue how spot-on she’d been.
“What’s so funny?” Ford asked, returning to the table.
“Oh, we were trying to guess what you needed to order in private,” Ethan said.
Another glance.
“Oh yeah? And?”
“Corrie over here guessed lube.”
“Do the two of you seriously have nothing else on your mind?” Ford asked in his typical bossy way.
A light tap hit Corrie’s toe. She looked up from her plate to see Ford’s cautioning eyes.
“Hey, it was better than Ethan’s guess,” Corrie said, taking another bite of toast.
“I don’t even want to know,” Ford said, hanging then shaking his head. “Come on . . . it’s time to head out.”
Everyone at the table gathered their trays and made their way to the washtubs, but as Corrie passed Ford, he pulled her back by the crook of her elbow and whispered in her ear. “I’m pretty sure you have all the lubricant I need. Now quit looking at me like that, because those condoms aren’t coming for another four days, and I can’t be walking around with a raging hard-on until then.”
His warm breath tickled her ear, sending a chill down her spine and her nipples to full attention.
“As long as you’re still thinking about me,” she said, just to make sure, and turning her head to look at him.