Scoring Position (Daytona Fury #2)

14. Lark

FOURTEEN

LARK

I turn down the radio in my car, double-checking the address Ace had me put into my GPS as I approach what looks like a desolate wooded area. I passed several nature parks on the way here, and this one looks similar but abandoned at the same time. When he initially gave me the details about our wholesome day of fun, I wanted to Google it right away. But he made me promise that I wouldn’t, saying the surprise was going to make the whole thing even better for me. If there’s one thing I don’t do, it’s break a promise. So here I am, driving into what could be my final moments before a serial killer jumps out and guts me like a fish.

After the other night, and the way he gave me his complete honesty on the fantasy quiz in the textbook, I finally agreed to give him his reward. Although, I felt like I was the one getting the real prize when he basically talked me to orgasm. It’s been on replay in my head since it happened, and I still can’t stop his voice from creeping into my mind whenever I close my eyes. Getting myself off has been a full-time job since then. I can’t remember the last time I masturbated this much.

Today is one of the team’s rare days off. They just finished two home games at the end of one series and play another two at Fury Field starting tomorrow. It’s supposed to be a day for rest and relaxation, but apparently, those words are not in Ace’s vocabulary.

My phone prompts me to slow down just as an old wooden sign comes into view. I can’t make out what it says since it’s covered in colorful splatters of paint, but this is where I’m supposed to be, so I turn onto a long driveway that leads to a small white building. As I pull up to it, a young man wearing a camouflage jumpsuit steps out, walking toward my car.

“Please don’t murder me,” I mumble to myself as I roll the window down just a crack, because I’m not about to make it easy for him to stab me with a rusty blade.

“Hey, there!” he says cheerfully, deep dimples sinking into his cheeks. There’s a small chip in one of his front teeth, but it’s endearing with his boyish features. He looks like some kind of adrenaline chaser, which makes me wonder what this place is. “You must be Lark. I’m Adam, and my family owns the park. Ace asked me to send you back, but I need you to sign this waiver for me first.” He shrugs, handing me a clipboard. “It’s my parents’ rule. For liability and stuff.”

Liability?

Red flags wave wildly in my head, but I smile and nod as I take it from his hand, reading the print on the top of the paper. My eyes widen as realization washes over me. “Paintball?” I question.

“Yep!” he says proudly. “Ace and his teammates paid to close the place down for the whole day, so you guys have all fifty acres to yourselves!”

“Wow!” I say, trying not to sound like I want to drive right the hell out of here. “Sounds…fun!” I remove the pen from the clipboard and scribble my signature on the dotted line, if only so I can get to Ace to tell him this isn’t really my thing. I understand why he thinks it would be, considering he’s a young guy who probably loves extreme sports. But me? My idea of a good time is going to HomeGoods and sniffing candles. If I’m running and it’s not on a treadmill, rest assured it’s because my life is in danger.

I hand the waiver back to the kid, and he checks it halfheartedly before jutting his chin toward an open gate. “Everyone is through there. Take the path until you get to the fork. Go right, and it’ll be the second set of picnic tables on your left. Have a good time!”

“Thank you,” I say with a wave, parking my car in the lot before following his directions and starting down the dirt path. I was only given a few details for what we’d be doing today, one of which was that I’d need to wear clothes I didn’t care about getting messy, as well as a pair of comfortable athletic shoes. I thought maybe we were hiking or something. Paintball wasn’t even in the realm of possibilities for me.

I come to a fork in the road, veering off to the far right and looking for the picnic tables. Just as I’m passing the first set, I hear grass rustling before a thick arm wraps around my waist from behind, lifting me off my feet. I try to scream, but it’s cut off by a hand over my mouth as a quiet voice speaks into my ear.

“It’s just me, Sweets,” Ace says, carrying me beyond a high stack of hay bales, out of sight from anyone who might be able to see, and setting me down. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted a second alone.”

I put my hand over my heart, exhaling a relieved breath as it thumps under my palm. “Jesus,” I say, trying to calm myself. “I thought you were a murderer. I almost had a heart attack.”

He chuckles. “I’m sorry. The whole thing was a lot cuter when I played it out in my head.”

I raise a dubious brow. “How the hell did you sneaking up on me in a strange place and carrying me off while muffling my screams look cute in your head?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Guess I didn’t plan for the scream. Come here,” he says, taking me by the hand and pulling me back out to stand on the trail. “Walk, but this time, maybe trade the shrieks of terror for a surprised gasp.”

“Fine,” I reply, rolling my eyes and trying my best to hold back my smile as I turn away from him and take a few steps. Once again, his arm wraps around my waist, lifting me from the ground. I dramatically gasp while he walks us back behind the hay bales and returns me to my feet, spinning my body to face him as he looks down at me with a smile.

“See,” he says, bringing his hand up to cup my cheek. “Now we’re all by ourselves, and I can do this.” He slowly leans down, pressing his lips to mine in a soft kiss. I melt into him as he tilts my head back and deepens the connection, even though we probably shouldn’t. We’re technically in public, and anyone could catch us back here. But every time we do this, it makes me miss it more when we’re apart, so I don’t move to stop him. That fact alone should have alarm bells blaring in my head, but I can’t hear a single one of them while he’s devouring me this way. Kissing Ace Mathers is a religious experience—one that has me nearly abandoning every rule I’ve ever made for myself and dropping to my knees to worship him. The thought of feeling the weight of his heavy length on my tongue makes me moan into his mouth as he reaches under my ass and lifts me, pressing my back against the bales. I wrap my legs around him, feeling his hardness as he grinds it into me. I’m wearing thick leggings, but I may as well be completely exposed with the way fireworks explode behind my eyes when he pushes it directly into my clit.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he says. “I’ve been thinking about the other night non-stop…regretting that it wasn’t my fingers you came on. I was licking the taste of us off my lips for hours after you left.”

“Oh my God, Ace,” I whimper quietly right before he takes my mouth again. “I want your fingers inside me so bad.” I don’t know how, but I turn into another person when I’m with him. He brings me back to the girl I used to be, wanting to experiment and have fun with sex—the girl I lost during my marriage. As much as I’ve told myself it’s inappropriate to have a physical relationship with Ace, I can’t say it’s not exciting to feel like myself again.

“Don’t fucking say that,” he groans, rutting into me. “I’m holding back right now because we’re here. But if we were at my place, I’d already have your sweet juices pouring into my palm. I’m not making the same mistake twice.”

As good as it feels, he’s right. We have to stop before someone sees us. It’s not like we’re in a hotel room, or even a private nook. We may be behind a hay bale, but there’s open land to our left and right. It’s too much of a risk to keep going, even though my body is begging for it.

“We have to stop,” I say against his lips, making his entire body go still before he sighs in defeat. He presses his forehead to mine as we catch our breath, eventually lowering me to my feet as I giggle quietly.

“What?” he says, adjusting his erection under his sweatpants.

“Nothing,” I reply, righting my clothes and doing my best to brush the hay from my back and butt. “I just realized how young you are. You go from calm to feral in seconds. Only a twenty-one-year-old dick gets hard that fast.”

He takes a step forward, crowding me against the bales before bringing both hands up to my face. “This doesn’t happen with anyone else, Lark. I’ve kissed and let girls grind against me while we danced a million times. Never once has my cock wept at just the sight of a woman. I went from being terrified of sex to wondering how much longer I’ll be able to restrain myself. I won’t say you’re different, because that’s such a cliché expression—but we’re different. I think you feel it too.”

I swallow thickly because, yes, I do , but I’m still struggling with some of it. Obviously, the age gap is a thing. Maybe not to him, but being an entire decade older makes me feel like I’d be slowing him down. I’ve already lived through those younger years. I was in a relationship for a lot of them, but my nights of drinking and dancing at clubs until two in the morning seem like they happened ages ago. I don’t want to stop him from enjoying that time. He already spends half the year holed up in hotel rooms or going to bed early on game nights—there’s no way he wouldn’t resent me for my strict bedtimes and weekend cramming sessions during midterms and finals weeks.

I know Ace doesn’t want just a physical connection. He’s not like that. He might think he wants more with me, but it’s hard to explain all the things that would come along with it without sounding like I’m making excuses. If I’m completely honest, I wish we could be more too.

“I do,” I say, giving him a weak smile. “But your best years are ahead of you. You don’t want to spend them stuck to an older woman who wouldn’t know a good time if it smacked her in the face.”

He puts a hand up between us. “I’m gonna stop you right there,” he says sternly. “First of all, my entire life has revolved around playing baseball. If I go out, it’s with my team after a win, and I always leave alone. I spend most nights reading or watching TV until I fall asleep so I can be up early for practice. Being with you is the most I’ve truly lived in twenty-one years. We don’t have to tell anybody what we’re doing, but please just open your mind a little bit, okay? I won’t push you into anything more if you don’t want it, but if you’re trying to preserve my youth by pushing me away, don’t. This is what I want,” he says, gesturing between us. “We could be so good together, Lark.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, trying to think of an argument, but I just can’t find one. Everything he’s saying is right. And it’s not like he’s pressuring me to be in a relationship with him right now, or even to define what we are. He just wants me to consider it as an option.

“Okay,” I say quietly. “I’ll keep an open mind. I like you, Ace…a lot. But I also need you to be realistic. We live completely different lives, and you can’t deny that. So please see it .”

He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into him. “I see it, baby,” he says. “But so far, there isn’t a single thing about you that I’m not obsessed with.” He kisses the top of my head before stepping back and weaving his fingers through mine. “Now come on. I want you to meet my friends.”

I nod, smiling nervously as he leads me out from behind the hay bales. He must notice my hesitation because he looks down at me, and I can see the understanding painted across his expression. “They’re nice, Sweets. I promise they’re going to love you. Trust me.”

“Okay,” I reply, holding my head high as the others come into view. I’m still worried about not being accepted because I’m new to them, but I believe Ace. I don’t think he’d lead me into a group of people who were going to judge me.

“I swear to God, Riggs,” a dark-haired woman says loudly as we approach, “if you pick me to be on your team, I’ll be pissed.”

“Jesus, Mayhem,” the man next to her replies, “if you think I’m going to willingly put myself in harm’s way by giving you a weapon and permission to shoot me with it, you’re wrong. You’re coming with me and staying right by my side where I can keep an eye on you.”

I look at Ace, confused, but he just rolls his eyes and chuckles as we stop in front of them before making introductions. “Everyone, this is Lark. Lark, this is Jackson, Hawk, Riggs and Monroe. If you’re wondering if they’re always like this, the answer is yes, and I’m pretty sure it’s a sexual thing.”

I try to hold back my laugh but fail miserably as I reach out, shaking each of their hands one by one. Everyone is smiling except for Hawk, who I’m pretty sure only has the one expression. He doesn’t look mean—he’s just…broody. I notice he doesn’t say too much unless Jackson is speaking to him. It’s almost like they have their own little language as they quietly talk to one another.

“Glad to have another girl around,” Monroe says, keeping my hand clasped in hers and pulling me her way. But a thick arm snakes around my waist, restraining me.

“Nope. My tutor, my team,” Ace says, pulling me back toward him and lifting his chin to Riggs. “Make your pick, Val.”

He crooks a finger at Monroe, and she throws her head back in annoyance. “Come on, Mayhem. You heard Acey Boy. It’s my pick, and you’re with me.” She huffs a frustrated breath before stomping over to him, mumbling something that sounds a lot like Big mistake as he laughs quietly. But he ignores her, pulling her in and leaning down, biting at the skin of her neck. She gasps loudly before halfheartedly pushing him away.

“This is one of those things where I’m going to turn a corner and see someone’s bare ass, isn’t it?” Jackson says. “Is anybody going to actually try?”

I raise my hand. “I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m not opposed to engaging in some shady shit in order to win.”

“Ooh,” Jackson says, a boyish grin crinkling the corners of his bright green eyes as he steps our way. “Riggs, no offense, but your girl looks like she’s plotting your demise, so you can take Hawk. I’m with these two.”

“Whatever, dude,” he replies. “We’ll take him.” He holds his arm out, pointing. “Look at the guy. He’s a stone-cold killer, aren’t you, Mason?”

“Sure,” Hawk mumbles. He really is a man of few words, but I have to admit, I’m intrigued by his personality. He’s quiet, covered in tattoos, and hasn’t cracked even a hint of a smile, but there’s something in his eyes that tells me there’s more to him than what I’m seeing.

“Alright,” Jackson says with a clap, walking over to where several paintball guns are lined up on the picnic table. “Come here, Lark.” He extends his arm in invitation, and I step toward him. “You get first pick since you’ve never played. They’re all the same, but I have a good feeling about this one. Looks extra powerful.” He points to the weapon on the far left, and I reach out to carefully pick it up. It’s much lighter than I expected, but that’s probably because it’s not fully assembled.

He bends down, picks up a shiny black can, and screws it onto the back of the gun while I hold it out. “This is your compressed air. It’s what propels the balls out of the barrel. We’ll load up this hopper,” he says, pointing to the empty container on the top of the unit, “and it’ll feed them down into the marker as fast as you can pull the trigger. Do you want to try on a target first?”

I look at Ace, and he gives me a gentle nod. “Please,” I say back to Jackson as he leads me over to another stack of hay bales with white and red bullseyes painted on them. He takes a plastic jar of pink paintballs from a nearby cart, opens the top of my gun, and pours them in before closing the lid and toggling a switch on the side of it.

“Okay,” he says, moving to stand behind me. “What you want to do is hold it up and look down the side of the barrel. Make sure to keep both eyes open, and when you feel like you’re in the center of the bullseye, pull the trigger.”

I do as he says, holding it far enough away from my face that it isn’t touching, but close enough that I can at least kind of see where I’m pointing. When I think the placement is good, I squeeze, carefully adding pressure with my finger until the ball leaves the barrel with a quiet pop . It startles me at first, but excitement washes over me when I see pink splatter onto the hay just to the right of the red dot.

“Holy shit,” Riggs mumbles from behind us, making me giggle quietly.

“Nice!” Jackson praises. “Now, do it again. But after the first ball hits, adjust your aim wherever it needs to go to hit the middle.”

Just like before, I raise the gun, focus on the target, and pull the trigger when I feel like I’m in a good position. This time, it lands directly above where I wanted it to, so I lower the barrel just a touch before squeezing again. Bright pink decorates the very center of the target, and I turn to Jackson to find a surprised look on his face.

“Looks like your tutor is a ringer, Mathers,” he says to Ace, making his chest puff out with pride.

“Damn right, she is,” he replies, and my heart thumps wildly in my chest as he walks over and throws an arm around my shoulder, pressing a quick kiss to the top of my head. It looks friendly enough from the outside, but the gesture sends my stomach tumbling with giddiness. “She’s smart as hell too. And obviously beautiful.”

“What a couple of lucky guys we are,” Riggs pipes up, attempting to try the same move on Monroe, but he’s met with the barrel of her gun being pointed at his knee. It doesn’t have the canister on the back, and I’m assuming there are no paintballs inside, but he backs up anyway, raising his hands in surrender. “Or not,” he mumbles.

I laugh quietly as everyone assembles their weapons, filling them with pink and blue balls. Ace helps me into my protective gear, making sure the face mask is tightened enough so it won’t move while I run. He follows by readying himself, ensuring that we have enough extra paintballs to last the entire game. They quickly explain the rules to me, and we all head over to our teams’ starting points.

“Thanks for going along with this,” he says quietly as we wait for the whistle to sound. “It’s more fun with a larger group, but I didn’t want you to be overwhelmed by a bunch of strangers. These guys are my closest friends, and I knew you’d get along with them. I wanted you to feel comfortable so you’d be able to enjoy yourself.”

I roll my eyes playfully. “Not sure I’ll enjoy being chased by young, spry professional athletes while they shoot pressurized paint at me. I’m about to regret skipping cardio as much as I do.”

“Nah,” he argues. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe you aren’t, in fact, an elderly woman?” He smirks, and I lunge toward him, slapping his shoulder as he barks a laugh. But he’s right. Thirty-one is still young, and being with Ace makes me realize that I’m the same girl I was before I got caught up in all the boring monotony of adulthood.

Maybe letting him show me how to have fun wasn’t such a bad idea after all.