Sienna’s POV
“Ford…” I whisper. It comes out barely audible, a prayer and a plea rolled into one.
He looks up at me then, and fuck. That look. His storm-gray eyes, wild dark hair, lips already parted like he’s about to devour me.
He doesn’t answer. Just licks a slow, deliberate stripe up my center, and I swear to God the world disappears.
My head falls back against the couch with a broken cry. My hips buck, completely outside my control, but his hands grab and tighten around my thighs, anchoring me down.
His mouth is everywhere. Slow at first. Too slow.
Teasing me with lazy strokes of his tongue, kissing me like he’s trying to memorize every inch. Then faster. Deeper. Until I’m grinding against his mouth, panting, legs trembling from the pressure building low and tight in my belly.
I’ve never felt anything like this. Never been touched by anyone like this before.
Worshipped like this.
His tongue flicks over my clit, again and again, and I’m a mess—whimpering, twisting, my fingers clawing at the couch cushions like they’ll save me from unraveling.
“Ford—God—please,” I gasp, not even sure what I’m begging for anymore.
He groans into me, and the sound sends a fresh wave of pleasure ripping through me. One of his hands leaves my thigh and slides between us.
His fingers slide inside me again, two at once this time, thick and perfect and curling just right. He fucks me with them as his mouth works my clit, and the rhythm—God, the rhythm is lethal.
I feel it building. Pressure spiraling tighter and tighter, coiling in my core like it’s ready to detonate. My thighs shake. My back arches. My vision blurs.
“I’m— Ford, I’m gonna—”
He growls and sucks harder, fingers fucking deeper, and I shatter.
The orgasm hits like a goddamn earthquake. My body locks up, muscles clenching around him, and I scream—scream—his name as the pleasure rips through me in endless waves.
Everything goes white.
When I come down, I’m gasping, sweat-soaked, trembling. My legs refuse to close. My mind is gone. And he’s still there—kneeling between my thighs, mouth slick with me, eyes full of hunger like he’s not even close to being done.
“Fuck,” I breathe, staring at the ceiling like I’ve just seen Jesus himself.
He crawls up my body, slow and deliberate, dragging his mouth along my skin—my hip, my stomach, between my breasts. He kisses the underside of my jaw before meeting my eyes.
“You okay?” he murmurs, voice rough and reverent.
I laugh, a breathless, giddy sound, and cup his face with both hands.
“I will be,” I whisper, “but you’re gonna have to fuck right me now. Because if you don’t, I’m going to combust.”
He grins. “You’re demanding when you’re wrecked.”
“And you love it.”
His eyes darken again, heat surging between us like gasoline near a flame.
“Oh, baby,” he says, voice dropping low. “You have no idea how much.”
And then he’s kissing me again—messy, deep, all tongue and teeth and heat.
“Get on your knees,” he growls. I blink, my heart lurching, and I move.
Scramble, really. Onto all fours on the couch, still breathless, still soaked.
I hear the rustle behind me, his belt hitting the floor, his jeans following, and then nothing for a second except the sound of him stroking himself. Slow. Controlled.
I glance back over my shoulder, and my jaw almost drops.
Oh. Oh.
He’s massive. Thick, already hard and veined, every inch of him is intimidating and infuriatingly perfect. My mouth goes dry while my thighs clench—half in arousal, half in genuine concern.
“Ford…” I whisper, eyes wide. “I— Are you sure that’s going to fit?”
His smirk is dark and dangerous as he wraps a hand around himself, slowly stroking, like he knows exactly the kind of reaction he’s pulling from me.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, voice thick and low. “You’ll take every inch.”
Ford steps closer, one hand gripping my hip tight, the other still stroking himself as he lines up behind me. He rubs the head against me, slow and taunting, dragging it through my slick folds.
My whole body jolts at the contact and his grip tightens.
“Just relax,” he murmurs, voice low and commanding. “Take a deep breath. You can handle it.”
I bite my lip, nodding into the cushions, and he pushes in. Just the tip.
Holy fuck.
It burns, just a little—tight, overwhelming, and impossibly full. I gasp, fingers clawing at the couch. “Shit,” I groan. “You’re huge.”
Ford chuckles, dark and breathless, leaning over me to whisper in my ear. “And I’m not even halfway in, sweetheart.”
My body trembles.
He moves slowly, too slowly, pushing deeper inch by thick inch until he bottoms out, hips pressed to my ass. But it’s so good.
“Jesus Christ,” I moan. “You’re… fuck… you’re inside everywhere.”
He grins against my throat. “Told you.”
And then he starts to move.
He sets a brutal rhythm—relentless, deep, punishing. My body adjusts fast, drowning in the sensation. Each thrust rocks me forward against the cushions, my moans turning into broken, feral sounds.
I’ve never been fucked like this—never been taken like this.
“You like it rough, don’t you?” he snarls, hand tangling in my hair and yanking my head back.
“Yes—fuck—yes,” I cry, eyes fluttering shut. “Don’t stop.”
Ford slaps my ass, hard. I jerk, whimpering at the sting and the delicious pulse of heat it sends straight to my core.
The couch creaks beneath us, each thrust harder than the last, his pelvis slamming against mine, his cock so deep I feel it in my soul.
“This what you wanted, baby?” he hisses in my ear. “Wanted your coach to fuck you dumb?”
I nod frantically, gasping his name. “Yes, yes— God, Ford— I’m so close—”
But then he pulls out. Completely.
I cry out, confused and empty, but he grabs my waist and flips me over onto my back without giving me a chance to breathe.
“What the—” I try to protest, but he’s already grabbing me, lifting me off the couch like I weigh nothing.
I lock my legs around his waist on instinct, arms thrown around his shoulders and his cock rubbing through my soaked folds again as he holds me there, his grip unrelenting.
“You think it was deep before?” he rasps, biting my lip. “Watch this.”
He slams into me while standing, and I scream.
The angle is devastating, hitting somewhere deeper, sharper. His grip on my ass tightens, holding me in place while he pounds into me, teeth bared, sweat dripping between us.
My head falls back, mouth open, back arched as he fucks me in the air. Every thrust hits something devastating inside me.
He fucks me like a man starved, like he’s been fantasizing about this for years and now he’s finally getting what’s his.
“Fuck,” he snarls. “I’m gonna come—fuck—”
I’m shaking, digging my nails into his shoulders, begging, gasping, unraveling.
I’m right there—right there—and the words fall out before I can stop them. “Ford, please, fill me.”
He groans, low and filthy. “Say that again.”
“Come inside me,” I sob. “I want it. I want you to fill me up… Please—please—”
He slams in one last time, deep and brutal, and I feel him pulse inside me, heat flooding my core as he spills every drop.
I come so hard I see stars, screaming his name, cunt clenching around him as he pours into me, holding me there, buried to the hilt, shaking with the force of it.
Everything fades into white-hot nothingness.
We collapse against the couch, limbs tangled, hearts racing, sweat slicking our skin. His forehead drops to mine, breath hot and ragged.
“I’m not done with you,” he murmurs.
I grin, still trembling, lips swollen and voice raw.
“Good,” I whisper. “Because I need more.”
* * *
Waking up feels like surfacing from underwater—disorienting and way too bright.
The night with Ford is still humming under my skin like a live wire I can't switch off. Every nerve ending seems hyperaware, like my entire body has been rewired and I'm still figuring out how the new operating system works.
Holy fuck. That actually happened. Me and Ford.
It was nothing like I expected and everything I didn't know I wanted. Rough, intense, completely consuming—the way he took control, pushed me past every limit I thought I had.
And God help me, I loved every second of it.
The way he looked at me like I was something he needed to possess, not protect. Apparently I have a thing for being completely wrecked, hard fucked and ruined mess.
Good to know.
But underneath the post-orgasmic glow is a cold knot of reality that's getting harder to ignore. Everything I've worked for could evaporate if anyone finds out about this. One photo, one witness, one person with a grudge and a camera phone.
Ford's across the room buttoning his shirt with the kind of methodical precision that suggests he's already switched back into coach mode.
The man, who whispered the filthiest things I ever heard in my life and took me over and over again in impossible angles that night, has been replaced by someone who looks like he could keep state secrets.
When he looks up and meets my eyes, his voice drops to something that sounds like a threat wrapped in velvet. "No one can know about this. Not a word."
The intensity in his gaze makes my stomach flip—not entirely in a good way.
It's not just a warning; it's a promise that whatever this is between us dies in this room if it has to.
I nod because what else am I supposed to do? We both know how fragile this is and how easily it could shatter both our futures.