Hannah Ford [Ford - Strict (Part Three)

C HLOE

H e stares back at me , his eyes traveling over my body.

I blush and go to cover myself. What the hell was I thinking? Taking my shirt off in front of my boss? In the back of his car?Jesus Christ, Chloe, talk about making bad decisions.

No. He grabs my hands and pull them back down. I want to look at you.

His eyes travel over me again, and heat and desire pound through my veins like lava, strong and hot. He reaches out and takes the back of my neck. His grip is strong, the size and power difference between the two of us even more evident than usual.

He is strong.

And powerful.

And he has me in the back of his car, where he can pretty much do anything he wants to me.

Gage hits a button and the car doors lock.

The tinted windows provide a buffer from the light outside, casting dim shadows across the interior of the car.

The pressure of his hand on the back of my neck intensifies, and he pulls me toward him. His lips meet mine, and his tongue parts my lips, sweeping inside my mouth, skillful and strong. Goosebumps instantly bloom over my skin, and Im thankful Im sitting down, that I dont have to worry about what will happen if my knees go weak or my head gets all dizzy, because thats exactly whats happening.

The kiss gets rougher, rawer, and I moan against his mouth.

When he finally ends it, he uses his hand to fist the back of my hair and pull me away from him. My lips, already swollen, are now tingling from touching his, and I resist the urge to reach up and touch them.

He pulls me onto his lap to continue kissing me, and my bare nipples brush against the softness of his sweater. I can feel how hard his chest is through the material, and before I know what Im doing, Im running my hands up under his shirt.

He quirks an eyebrow at me, like hes amused by my brazenness, as I pull off his sweater. I suck in a breath through my teeth. Holy hell. He looks like someone airbrushed him to life, like a picture from a magazine only better.

Perfectly sculpted pecs, muscular and cut biceps, and his stomach I count an eight pack. I run my hands over his skin, lingering over the tight bunch of muscles that make up his body. Its the kind of body betrays a kind of discipline that I cant even imagine. How the hell does he have time to work out, much less work out for the amount of time and intensity it must take to maintain this kind of flawlessness?

Suddenly, he grabs my wrists, pins them behind my back until my shoulders are forced back and my breasts are thrust forward. He lowers his head and draws a nipple into his mouth, and I whimper.

I can feel his cock, hard and thick through his pants, nestled against the soft fabric of my shorts, and I gasp and do my best to wriggle away.

He smirks, like hes glad hes shocked me.

Lie back down, he commands, and I climb off of his lap and lay with my head in his lap, like he told me to before.

His fingertips trail down the side of my arm lazily, until he reaches the hair tie that I have around my wrist. He pulls it off and then gathers my hair up into a ponytail, wrapping the elastic around the strands. Theres something intimate about the gesture, and I shiver.

He gazes down at me, eyes blazing.

I dont want to scare you, he murmurs, but its more like hes saying it to himself than to me.

You wont.

I scared you earlier. You safe worded.

I wasnt scared.

He raises his eyebrows skeptically.

Okay, I say, biting my bottom lip and wondering how much to reveal. I was scared. But only because I liked it so much.

What did you like? His hand is at my waist now, and his finger sweeps gently under the waistband of my shorts.

How you tied me, I whisper. How you touched me.

The back of his knuckle skates over my stomach.

Take off your shorts, Chloe.

I do it, leaving me in nothing but my panties, and I close my eyes, trying not to think about the bodies of the women hes seen before, probably models and actresses, all of them just as perfect as he is.

Eyes open.

I open my eyes, my humiliating and desire intensifying, threatening to become a twisting tornado inside me.

Show me how you touch yourself.

What?

Show. Me. How. You. Touch. Yourself.

I dont um, I dont do that. Cheeks. Burning. Blushing. Ohmyfreakinggod.

Never? He sounds surprised.

Not that much.

Then Ill have to teach you how.

Cant you I mean, cant you do it for me? Im desperate to feel his hands on me, and desperate not to embarrass myself.

I dont want to touch you yet, baby. Im afraid I wont be able to control myself.

Please.

Chloe. My name on his lips is strong, commanding. We can do this the easy way. Or we can do it the hard way.

I shiver and place my hand on the outside of my panties.

Inside your panties, baby.

I slide my fingers down into the fabric, and now my cheeks feel like theyre on fire.

Good girl. Now put your index finger on your clit.

I dont I trail off, mortified.

Shh. He places his hand on top of mine, but over my panties, so that hes not touching me the fabric is between my hand and his. He guides my index finger to my clit. Now rub it nice and slow, angel, and get yourself wet.

I do as Im told. My body is already wired and my fingers rubbing myself feel good, especially as I gaze up at Gage, shirtless, his body strong and muscular. I let my eyes travel over his flawless skin as he guides my hand over my pussy, making me wet.

Does it feel good? he asks as our fingers move together.

Yes, I whisper.

Yes, what? he prompts.

Yes, sir, it feels good to touch my pussy like this.

I take in a deep breath as he continues to guide my hand. The desire for him is rushing through my veins, so intense that its hard to control. I want him so badly.

Hes still holding onto my hand, rubbing, teasing, stroking, showing me exactly what to do. And its like he knows what I want even more than I do, like he knows exactly what it is thats going to feel good to me.

His thumb draws down the side of my panties, so that the top mound of my pussy is exposed.

Fuck, Chloe, he groans. Look at that pussy.

Im panting, trying not to squirm around on the seat, afraid Im going to come if I keep touching myself like this, his hand guiding me to pleasure. Sir, please, I

Yes, baby? he prompts. Say it.

I want to make you feel good, too, sir.

His eyes flare with indecision.

Please. I bite my bottom lip. I wont get scared. I promise.

He sucks in a breath, his hand still moving my hand. I close my eyes and tip my head back, lost in the pleasure for a moment.

Tell me what you want, he demands.

I want to make you feel good, sir.

Another pause, another internal battle raging inside of him, his hand still moving mine up and down, up and down, rhythmically over my clit.

Take out my cock.

I turn slightly on the seat and unbutton his pants, my hands shaking with anticipation. He wears black boxer briefs with a waistband that sits against his flat stomach. I can see the outline of his cock straining against the material, thick and big.

He takes his free hand and slides his boxer briefs down until it springs free.