Scoring Position (Daytona Fury #2)

13. Ace

THIRTEEN

ACE

“Fuck!” I whisper-yell, trying my best not to burn my fingertips on the tinfoil as I check the chicken in the oven. It still needs a little longer to bake, so I wrap it back up and close the door before reaching into the refrigerator for a beer. I don’t normally drink at home, and if I do, it’s during the offseason. But Lark is going to be here any minute, and I’m nervous as hell. I’m not really sure why. It’s not like I don’t know how to talk to women. Just because I choose not to close the deal doesn’t mean I’m an idiot when it comes to the opposite sex. I kind of feel like it with her, though.

I want to impress her. I acted like I knew what I was doing when I told her I was making dinner tonight, but the truth is—this might be the second time I’ve used an appliance in this kitchen that isn’t the microwave.

I don’t even get the cap off my beer before the sound of the doorbell fills the apartment. Taking a deep breath, I place it back in the refrigerator and shake out my jittery hands before heading to the entryway. I gave the front desk attendant Lark’s name, and I’m not expecting anyone else, so I have no idea what possesses me to look through the peephole…but I immediately regret it. She looks hot as fuck in a cropped gray t-shirt and black cotton shorts, with so much delicious skin on display that my dick immediately begins to harden.

“Nooooo,” I groan quietly, looking down at it. “Don’t fucking do this to me. We’re not fourteen anymore. You can’t just pop up whenever you see this particular pretty girl, dude!” The doorbell rings again, and I think quickly, tucking my erection under the waistband of my boxer briefs and shorts. The entire head peeks out from the top, so I cover it with my shirt, hoping it’s hidden enough that she won’t notice when she walks in. I try to think of every disgusting thing that comes to mind to make it go away, from rancid, moldy food to that one time Jackson told me he was drunk while eating a girl out and puked all over her pussy. But nothing works. I’m hard as stone from just a single look at Lark.

“Fuck it,” I mumble, reaching out and pulling the door open. She looks even sexier in person as I take her in, from her long, wavy hair to the pink polish on her toes.

“Sorry about my clothes,” she says, noticing the once-over I’m giving her. “Everything else was in the washer, and I didn’t want to be late. Is this okay?”

I try my best to clear the lump from my throat before speaking, but it still comes out as a quiet rasp. “You look perfect.”

I step aside, gesturing for her to come in as she smiles shyly. She walks past, setting her backpack down on the floor before kicking off her sandals and pushing them aside with her foot. Everything she does is so goddamn adorable. I could watch her do the most mundane shit every day and be completely captivated.

“I just have to pull dinner out of the oven,” I tell her. “Want to come in and keep me company?”

“Yeah,” she replies. “Anything I can do to help?”

I shake my head, taking her hand in mine and leading her to the kitchen. The same sparks that I’ve gotten every other time we’ve touched zap up my arm, going straight to my heart like I’m being electrocuted in the best way. I wonder if it’ll always be like this. Will my body get warm, and my dick get hard every time I see her from now on?

My guess is yes.

I usher her to a bar stool, placing a hand on her lower back as she climbs up, even though she’s fully capable of doing it on her own. I don’t know if I’ll be able to touch her much tonight, so I’m taking what I can get. Thankfully, the thought of finishing dinner has made my dick stand down a little bit, but I’m going to need to find a way to stop this shit from happening in the future. I can’t keep hiding the way my body reacts to her.

“Can I get you a drink?” I ask, walking over and putting on an oven mitt before pulling the chicken out and setting it on top of the stove to cool. I unwrap the foil, praying for the best, and I’m pleasantly surprised with how perfect everything looks. It was my grandmother’s recipe, but I’ve never tried it without her. I’m glad I didn’t fuck it up for Lark.

“Water would be good,” she replies. I take off the oven mitt and walk over to the fridge, grabbing a couple of bottles and twisting the top off one before setting it in front of her. “Thank you,” she says quietly, taking her long hair and gathering it in one hand before pulling it over her shoulder. The movement exposes her neck, and all I can think about is how I want to get my lips on it tonight. I hope she lets me.

“So,” I begin, taking two plates from the cupboard and preparing them, adding the chicken and asparagus, along with some Italian bread that I picked up from the bakery earlier today. “What are we working on tonight?”

“The first part of the new module focuses on the positive and negative effects of sexual fantasy. There’s a quiz in the textbook that the professor wants you to take. Like last time, you can keep the answers private, then just go into the class portal and mark that you’ve completed it. It’s meant to get you thinking about your own sexual fantasies and how they vary from reality.”

Well, that’s fucking easy. My fantasies are wild. But my reality?

Self-induced blue balls. All the time.

Bringing the plates over to the bar, I slide one in front of her, keeping mine on the opposite side. The polite thing to do would be to sit next to her and eat, but to be honest, I want to look at her. This woman is an absolute knockout, and when I’m away from her, I miss her face so much. I need to get my fill every chance I can.

“This looks amazing,” she says, cutting into the chicken before taking a bite. The moan that escapes her plump lips has my dick threatening to embarrass me by making a reappearance, so I focus on my own plate, stabbing a piece of asparagus before biting into it. “I can’t believe you made this,” she says, covering her mouth with her hand as she continues chewing. “It’s so good.”

I swallow, taking a sip of my water before I speak. “Thanks. My grandma used to cook dinner every single night, without fail. Even when I had a game that kept us out until after dark, she’d come home, tell me to wash my hands, and get to work making a meal from scratch. I loved helping, even though I probably made it worse most of the time, but she never told me to go away. She just went about her business, always making sure I got what I needed to grow big and strong. I didn’t really learn much as far as cooking, but I have a million memories from being in the kitchen with her. This was in the recipe box I brought here after she passed away.”

She stands, rounding the bar and wrapping her arms around my waist in a tight hug. I sink into it, soaking in all the comfort it gives as I open up to her once again about a part of my life that I don’t share with many people. It wasn’t easy growing up without my real parents. My mom was gone before I could even remember, and we have no idea who my dad even is. All I know is that he was over eighteen and my mom was a minor, but she refused to give my grandma his name, fearing she’d get the guy arrested. Which, he should’ve been.

“That’s a wonderful story,” she says quietly, still holding me tight. “I bet you miss her so much.”

I fight the tears that sting the backs of my eyes. “I do. She made me who I am. I just wanted to make her proud, you know? I wanted her to see me graduate, knowing that she was the reason I did. I promised her I would, and now she’s not even here to enjoy it.” I press my cheek to the top of her head, breathing in her sweet scent.

“Hey,” she says, looking up at me. Her eyes are shining with emotion, and it makes me feel like I’m not alone. I consider my teammates to be my friends, but we haven’t known each other long enough for me to get this deep with them yet. It’s mind-boggling that I’ve known Lark for just under three weeks, but I’ve felt comfortable enough to open up to her on multiple occasions with zero regrets. She knows me better than anyone else in this world already. “She’s so proud of you, Ace. I’m sure of it. Just because she’s not physically here doesn’t mean she won’t be cheering for you on graduation day. I’ll save her a seat.”

Tears roll down my cheeks as I cup her face, pressing my lips gently to hers. I’m not doing it with the objective of taking things further. I just want to show her how I feel and how grateful I am that she’s here. “She’d love you,” I say softly, leaning my forehead against hers. “Although I think you’d be trouble together, ganging up on me left and right. Every day felt like a Comedy Central Roast with that woman.”

She giggles, loosening her hold on me before returning to her seat, and I wipe my face, settling back in front of my plate across from her. “She sounds amazing.”

We eat our dinner and keep the conversation light and fun while cleaning up. I insist on her relaxing while I load the dishwasher, but she refuses, standing beside me to help. We make quick work of getting the kitchen back to its previous, unused state before heading to the living room and sitting next to each other on the wraparound sofa.

“Wait!” I say, standing and running back to the kitchen, returning with the plastic container I picked up for her earlier. “I almost forgot about your dessert.” She smiles as she takes it, looking up at me with her brows pulled tightly in question.

“How come you always have candy for me?” she asks. “Don’t get me wrong—I love it. But why?”

“Well,”—I plop back down beside her—“when I was a kid, my grandma always told me that if you like a girl, you should bring her a sweet treat every time you see her.” It feels oddly intimate telling her that, considering I’ve been giving her candy since our second lesson together. It’s like I’m letting her in on my master plan to make her mine. But fuck it. I am.

“Thank you,” she says softly, a sincere look of gratitude on her face as her eyes connect with mine. She gets prettier every day, and I feel so lucky that she’s giving me the opportunity to really get to know her.

“You’re welcome,” I reply. We stay locked in the moment for a little longer, sitting in a comfortable silence before she remembers that we actually have work to do. At this point, though? If I had to choose between staring at Lark’s beautiful face for hours or passing this class, sign me up to retake it next semester.

Setting her candy aside, she takes the textbook out of her backpack and opens it up. “So, here’s the quiz you’re supposed to take. You don’t have to answer out loud. Just think about it, and then we’ll go in and mark that you’ve completed the assignment. Which, by the way, you won’t be getting a reward for, since it’s the easiest thing ever.”

I scoff. “Nope. That doesn’t work for me. How about we make it not so easy? You read me the questions, and I tell you my answers. If I do every one with complete honesty, no bullshit, I get my day of wholesome fun.”

She narrows her eyes at me, looking down at the page in front of her. “There’s some pretty personal questions on here,” she says. “You sure you want to expose all your deepest, darkest fantasies to me?”

You star in every one of them, Sweets.

I raise my chin confidently. “If it means getting my prize? One hundred percent.”

“It’s your funeral,” she says under her breath. “And you better not lie, because I’ll be able to tell.”

I nod my head tightly in agreement as she reads the first item out loud. “Letting my partner watch me masturbate. Just fantasy, fantasy you’d do in reality, or neither?”

“Fantasy I’d do in reality,” I say, making sure I look her in the eyes so she knows I’m telling the truth. She swallows, cheeks pinkening just the slightest bit as she focuses on the book in her lap.

“Sex in a public place.”

“Fantasy,” I reply. “I don’t think I could risk being seen. Or someone seeing what’s mine.” The thought of another person looking at Lark’s body while I fuck her makes me irrationally mad. She’s not mine. Not yet, anyway.

But she fucking feels like it.

“That’s understandable, given your past experiences,” she replies, smiling softly for a moment before reading the next item on the list. “Experimentation with sex toys.”

“Fantasy that I’d do in reality,” I say. “I think it would be hot to use a vibrator to make my girl scream until she begged me to stop. Or a paddle to turn her ass red before making it all better with my tongue.”

She sucks in a quiet gasp. “Jesus, Ace.” It’s barely a whisper, and I’m not even sure if she meant to say it out loud, but it makes my confidence grow by leaps and bounds. Since the day I met Lark, she’s been in control. The way my body reacts to her and how she commands the room every time we’re together is something I’ve gotten used to—and certainly don’t hate—but it’s time to show her that I’m not just some fumbling young guy who doesn’t know what he’s doing. I may not have sexual experiences like all my teammates do, but I know how to treat a woman. I can be whatever she needs.

“Experimentation with dirty talk,” she says, looking back up at me with wide eyes. This is my bread and butter. I’ve been reading romance novels since I was a teenager. My grandma always had these old, worn-out paperbacks with half-naked couples on the covers. She thought she was keeping them hidden, but as a naturally curious kid, I couldn’t help but look inside. From the first one I read, I was hooked. Yeah, the sex scenes were cheesy, and a lot of the dialogue made me cringe, but for some reason, I got sucked into the stories and found myself sneaking into her room to read every time she left for work.

When I got drafted, I quickly realized how lonely life on the road could be. I got an e-reader and filled it with contemporary romance, which has gotten a lot better since the days of hiding under the bed with those old, yellowed copies so I wouldn’t get busted. Today’s smut is full of dirty activities and even dirtier talk, all of which I’ve paid close attention to. I have no doubt that I could make her head spin with the shit that comes out of my mouth.

“Definitely fantasy I’d turn into reality,” I rasp, watching as her lips part. “I’ve read dozens of smutty books this year and took lots of notes. In fact, I bet I could make you come with my words alone.” A shuddered breath leaves her as she shakes her head. “That’s highly unlikely. It might be common in books, but very few women can actually achieve orgasm with no physical touch. Most require a lot of time, patience, and centralized clitoral stimulation.”

“Most?” I question, moving closer so I can ghost my hand over the skin of her bare thigh. “Do you fall into that category? Does this gorgeous body need some extra attention? Or has nobody ever talked dirty to you the right way before?” I lean in so my mouth is pressed to her ear. “Because I bet I could make you soak these tiny shorts of yours by telling you all the filthy things I want to do to you.”

A moan tumbles from her lips, her eyes fluttering closed as her fists curl into tight balls at her sides. She wants this just as badly as I do. There’s no fucking way I won’t come in my pants from it, but I’m cool as long as she does too. The desperate urge to show her that I can blow her mind if she lets me is overwhelming all my rational thoughts at the moment.

“I need your consent, Sweets,” I whisper, darting my tongue out to lick along her earlobe. “Tell me I can try.”

She nods her head frantically, keeping her eyes screwed shut. “O-okay.”

“Mmm,” I hum. “Good girl. Do me a favor and squeeze those sexy legs together tight. I want you to feel the way your clit throbs while I turn it into a greedy, begging slut to come.”

She sets the book to her other side before obeying my request. I’m nervous as hell, but I’m not a stranger to dirty talk. I’ve done it during make-out sessions before, and I almost always do it when I masturbate, most recently while fantasizing about Lark. I’ve already said half this shit to her in my head—now it’s time to give her the real thing.

“Keep those eyes closed, baby,” I instruct. “I want you to imagine me slowly pulling this shirt off. My fingers grazing your skin, tickling as I work it up your sides and make you squirm in your seat.” I watch her hips shift slightly, and my cock stirs, knowing she’s already starting to fall into the fantasy. I wish I had a direct line to her brain so I could see what it looks like to her.

“God, I bet those tits of yours are gorgeous. I can’t wait. Tell me, Lark. What color is the bra I’m about to take off of you?”

She exhales a shaky breath. “Pink.”

I chuckle darkly. “Of course, it is. Because you’re such a sweet girl. Do your panties match? Am I going to find a dark pink spot between those legs from how wet you’re getting for me?” She nods her head, swallowing. “Mmm,” I moan in approval. “That’s a good girl, making it nice and slick for me. I know you felt my cock the other night. It’s going to be a tight fit, isn’t it? But I’ll take it nice and slow when I feed it into this beautiful body. I’ll make you forget any other man who’s dared to try making you theirs. You’ll know once you feel it press against all your walls at once, Sweets. You were built for me.”

“Ace,” she whines as her hips move back and forth, desperately looking for a way to create friction. My name coming from her plump lips makes my dick so hard it’s almost painful, but I don’t fucking care. I need more.

“I’m right here, baby,” I say, cupping her cheek as I continue talking quietly in her ear. “Oh, yeah. These tits are breathtaking. And look how hard your nipples are. They’re aching for my tongue, aren’t they? You poor, poor girl.”

“Y-yes,” she stutters, arching her back off the couch so her chest is pushed out. I can see the pebbled buds under the fabric of her shirt, and it’s taking all my self-control not to blow all over myself. But fuck that. She goes first, always.

“Okay. Let me get them nice and wet for you. Fucccckkkk,” I grit out. “You taste so good. I can’t wait to eat that soaked cunt and drink straight from the source. I bet it’s like honey.”

She sucks in another breath, and her thighs part for a moment before she crosses one over the other, shifting from side to side.

“I know what you’re doing,” I rasp. “You’re masturbating that hot little clit to the sound of my voice. Not exactly what we agreed to, but seeing you desperate like this is making me so fucking hard, baby. You’re perfect. Keep going.” I change tactics, trying my best to talk her through it. This is no longer a fantasy like it was when we started. We’re in it. “Why don’t you use your fingers?” I suggest. “Stroke yourself under your shorts to my words, Lark. Let me help you make yourself come.”

She doesn’t even hesitate. She’s way too worked up to argue. Instead, she dives her hand inside and begins rubbing wildly, her hips thrusting up to meet it. I’m leaking so much precum, I’m sure it’s soaked through my boxers and basketball shorts, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m too mesmerized by her to care.

“There you go, Sweets,” I praise. “You’re so fucking pretty when you feel good. Are you wet for me?” Pulling her feet up to rest flat on the couch cushions, she spreads wider, lowering her hand. I look down and almost lose it as I see the space between the crease of her thigh and her shorts, where her glistening pussy peeks out from under the soaked fabric. I have to slam my eyes shut and breathe slowly to stop myself from leaning down and licking it clean. Her fingers plunge inside, and I can hear the sound of her arousal as she retreats before pushing right back in.

“Oh God, Ace,” she whimpers. “I’ve never been this wet before. Holy shit. You…y?—”

“I know I did, baby,” I say, cutting her off and rubbing my thumb along her warm cheek. “Now keep fucking yourself. I’m so goddamn jealous right now. I bet that tight pussy is all swollen and ready to clamp down on those fingers when you come for me.” I press a kiss to the side of her neck, feeling her muscles wind tight under my lips as she nears the summit.

“I’m so close,” she breathes, her toes curling in pleasure. I need to do something to help push her over the edge. I’m barely hanging on myself.

Gripping the hair at the back of her head, I angle it toward me and wait until her gaze locks onto mine before I go in for the kill. “Come with me,” I grit out, grabbing my dick through my shorts with my free hand and tightening my fingers around it. One thrust into my fist is all it takes for my entire body to seize. She watches, unblinking, as I orgasm from barely a single touch, so turned on by her getting herself off right next to me. As I explode, cum pushes through the fabric, and the sight triggers her climax, launching her into bliss right behind me. She screams my name as pleasure washes over her, burying her fingers to the hilt while she rides it out. I can’t look away. I watch her chest rise and fall rapidly as she returns to earth, trying my best to slow my own heart rate at the same time. But the attempt is futile, because as soon as her eyes connect with mine again, I know we aren’t done. Her gaze is dark and heated as she pulls out, showing me the wetness that drips down her fingers and palm. Instead of offering it to me like I’m internally begging for, she reaches that same hand down, swiping the cum still pooled on the front of my shorts and sucking it into her mouth. Her eyes roll back as she tastes the mixture of us both, slowly pulling her fingers from her plump lips, and I can’t fucking hold myself back anymore.

I reach out, gripping her cheeks between my thumb and fingers before squeezing tightly. The force makes her jaw drop open, and I surge forward, plunging my tongue inside her waiting mouth. Her eyes go wide with surprise at first, but she eventually returns the kiss as we play with the remnants of our orgasms, licking and sucking it off one another before giving it right back.

It feels like hours have gone by when we finally break the connection, pressing our foreheads together as our hurried breaths begin to even out once again.

“Holy fuck,” she says, throwing her head back onto the couch. “What book is that from?”

I bark a laugh. “I don’t know. All of them. And maybe I mixed in some original content.”

“For someone who says he’s inexperienced, you know what you’re doing when it comes to kissing and talking dirty. Ever think maybe you’re just a natural at sex?” She looks up to find a shit-eating grin on my face, and she rolls her eyes as I sit back, pulling her into my side.

“Maybe. What’s the next item on the fantasy list?” I ask. She snuggles into me, reaching blindly for the book and going rigid with panic as she holds it up. About a chapter’s worth of pages are completely obliterated, looking like she accidentally balled them in her fist while she was chasing her orgasm. She turns to me, scowling.

“Ohhh no, Sweets,” I say, shaking my head. “None of that was my fault. You were acting like the exorcist, but both of my hands were up here.” I hold them in front of us in demonstration before pointing a finger at her. “ You did that. Looks like we’re done for the night.” I shrug, kissing her head.

“I can still see some of the bottom,” she says, squinting. “Role-play. Fantasy, fantasy that you’d turn into reality, or neither?”

I think carefully before answering. “Fantasy that I’d turn into reality. I’ve watched my teammates take girls back to their hotel rooms to fuck, but I’ve never gotten that far. If I could find someone I trusted, it might be fun to act it out. To see what it feels like to be adventurous and say yes.”

She nods thoughtfully. “That makes sense. You deserve it, Ace.”

“I don’t necessarily know if I deserve it ,” I reply. “But I really wish I could get over this shit somehow. I know there are NDAs and ways to make sure everything stays between me and whoever it is, but I can’t get past the fear of it happening again. It’s too early in my career to get in trouble. And what if you’re wrong about me? My only experience with actual intercourse ended in me coming before I was even all the way inside. I could be shit at it.”

She shakes her head. “You’re not. I promise. It might be awkward the first time, but you’ll be great. Whoever she is will be so lucky to have a man who cares if it’s good for her. The fact that you’re even worrying about it right now tells me what kind of a partner you are.”

She has no fucking clue how badly I want it to be her. I know she’s already made it clear that she’s not ready—and I don’t know if I am either—but if I could choose any girl in the world to try with, it would be Lark.

I’d give anything for her to let go with me, just once.