Scoring Position (Daytona Fury #2)

21. Lark

TWENTY-ONE

LARK

“Oh, fuck. Just like that,” I moan, pressing my heel into Ace’s back. I thought I was being sneaky, slipping out of bed this morning to take a shower while he slept, but I barely even started washing my hair before he slid in behind me. The next thing I knew, he was on his knees, making good on his promise from last night.

“Like this?” he mumbles against me, latching his lips onto my clit and swirling his tongue around it. My knees almost give out, but he grips my waist with both hands, pinning me to the warm tiles as he eats me like I’m his favorite meal.

“Mhmm,” I reply, reaching down and clenching my fists into his hair to keep him pressed to my pussy. “I’m going to come.” He sinks two fingers inside, never abandoning my aching bundle of nerves while he works me toward the edge. Small whimpers leave him as he sucks, and his desperation sends me careening over the summit. I shove my hips into his face once more, my orgasm overtaking every one of my senses as I stiffen and explode around him.

“Atta girl,” he says, releasing my clit. He keeps his fingers buried inside me as I squeeze them tightly, riding out my climax until I have nothing left to give. My body slumps against the wall as he takes one last, long lick, savoring every drop of me. Standing, he grips my chin, forcefully pushing his tongue between my parted lips.

“Do you taste that?” he asks. “Your cunt is so fucking sweet, Lark. I’m so goddamn addicted to you.”

I moan into the kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck and pushing to my tiptoes as he stands to his full height. I love tasting myself on him, knowing it turns him on to share it with me. The man is gifted with his mouth, and if you had told me yesterday that it was his first time doing it, I’d have called you a liar. Then again, he wrote an entire essay on the female orgasm and reads smutty books written by women, so I shouldn’t be too surprised that he’s picked up a few things.

I’ve never been with someone so concerned with my pleasure. I’ve also never felt comfortable telling a partner what I liked because I was always afraid of making them feel inadequate. We’re programmed to sacrifice our own needs in exchange for not making men feel emasculated, but how can we both be satisfied if we don’t communicate? Ace wants to learn. He wants to know what I like, and I feel the same about him. It’s refreshing to know that he won’t take offense if I give him some direction—not that he’s needed it so far.

Last night was easily the best sex I’ve ever had. Initially, I went down to the bar with the goal of giving him the role-play fantasy we’d talked about, but I didn’t expect it to turn into a real experience between the two of us when we got back to his room. I know I’ve been hesitant about the idea of being with him, but I couldn’t stop questioning what was really holding me back. Sure, there’s an age gap, but if there’s one thing he’s shown me, it’s that I’m not some dried-up old lady. I’m still young—capable of playing and laughing. And being with him brings the absolute best out of me when it comes to that. I like who I am around Ace, and I’m done pretending I don’t feel the things I do. If we keep exploring and realize that we can’t make it work, I’m still walking away a better person because of him.

“I need a nap after that,” I say, sliding my hands down his body and dropping my head to his chest. The endorphins from my orgasm are slowly coursing through me, making me feel like I could go boneless and fall to the floor at any second.

“Here,” he says, spinning me around so my back is against his chest. I lean into him as he bands an arm around my waist and reaches for the body wash. He lets me go just long enough to squeeze some into his open palm, gently massaging it into my wet skin as I hum contentedly. As much as I love taking care of Ace, being held and pampered by him is equally as satisfying. He makes me feel safe and wanted—like I’m not an inconvenience or doing too much, as I’ve been made to believe in the past.

He finishes washing and rinsing me, turns off the water, and reaches out to the towel hook. Spinning me back around, he wraps me up tightly before drying himself and lifting me off my feet, cradling me in his giant arms. I giggle as he carries me to the bed, pulling the covers back and laying me against the pillow.

“I have to brush and dry my hair, or it’ll get frizzy.” I attempt to sit up, just to be pushed back with a gentle hand against my shoulder. Resisting for a second, I lie back when he shoots me a sexy wink.

“Let me,” he says, walking to the bathroom and returning with a brush before sitting on the edge of the bed. “Up,” he orders. When I reach out to take it from his hand, he pulls away, circling his finger in the air as if to say Turn . Shocked, I obey, breathing a relaxed sigh as soon as the bristles make contact with my scalp. I’ve never had a man brush my hair before, and oh my God , I just want to melt right here. He’s careful not to pull as he works the knots free, and I can’t help but moan while he smooths it through one last time. He chuckles quietly, pressing a kiss to my shoulder before placing the brush on the nightstand.

“Can I have that?” he asks, pointing to the elastic band on my wrist. My brows furrow in confusion as he reaches forward, sliding it off over my fingers and settling back behind me. I’m expecting him to make a valiant attempt at a messy ponytail or something, but he shocks the fuck out of me as he separates my hair into three sections and begins weaving it into a braid.

“Where did you learn to do this?” I ask quietly, enjoying the small tugs as he makes his way downward. It feels so good—and oddly intimate, in the best possible way—that he’s doing this for me.

“During the end, when my grandma got too weak, she wasn’t able to lift her arms to do her hair. It knotted easily with all the time she spent in bed, so I learned how to braid so she didn’t have to deal with it.” My heart breaks every time he talks about her, knowing she was the only family he really had. That has to be hard to deal with alone.

I turn, taking his hand in mine. “You know, any time you want to talk about her, I’d love to hear more. She raised an amazing man, Ace. And I’m sure you were the best part of her days, because you’re the best part of mine.”

He smiles softly, cupping my cheek. “Thank you,” he replies, leaning forward and kissing my lips. “Before I met you, I felt her absence everywhere. I was surrounded by people all the time, but I still felt like none of them really knew me. It doesn’t feel like that now. It’s like she sent you to me so I don’t have to go through shit on my own. I’m glad you’re here.”

I blink away the tears that fill my eyes, returning his smile as I nuzzle into him. “Me too. Plus, she taught you that bit about the candy, and I couldn’t resist, so maybe you’re right about her sending me.”

He wraps his arms around me, taking me with him as he leans against the pillow. “It’s funny because when I tried it on Rachel Borden in the third grade, she called me gross.” He purses his lips in thought. “Maybe it was because I gave her a handful of Skittles from the bottom of my backpack, but still. She wasn’t quite as receptive to the gesture as you are, Sweets.”

I snuggle into him. “Good thing she set you straight. I wouldn’t have wanted dirty backpack candy either.”

He laughs. “Noted. So,” he says, steering the conversation in another direction, “we have one more night here. Want to switch it up and you pick a role-play for us? Something you want to try?”

I raise my brows in surprise. “We don’t have to do that. I just knew you wanted to see what it was like to say yes to a woman when she asked you to bring her back to your room. I don’t expect you to fulfill my fantasies.”

“Fuck that,” he scoffs. “I had a blast last night. And I think you did, too. Tell me what you want from me, and I’ll make it happen.”

I think carefully. There are millions of things I’ve wanted to try, but Ryan was never open-minded enough for me to ask. Some of the kinks I suspect I might be into would’ve freaked him out, but Ace isn’t like that. We’ve had some pretty deep conversations already, and he’s never judged, so maybe this is my chance to explore with someone I trust.

“I…” I pause, trying to find the right words to express what it is that I want. “I want to be degraded. And used…like you did in the shower. I want it rough.”

He contemplates, smirking when an idea comes to mind. “I just read a bully romance that had a lot of degradation and humiliation in it. I’m sure I could come up with something good if you want to give it a try.”

I nod, attempting to hide my excitement. “Yeah, I think I do.”

“Okay then,” he says, turning my head so he’s looking into my eyes. “But we’re going to need a safe word for this one—and if there’s anything you don’t want me to do or say, tell me. I want this to be good for you. I never want to hurt you, Lark.”

I nod my head. “I think the traffic light system we read about is probably best for this. If I’m feeling uncomfortable, I’ll say yellow , so you don’t keep going in that direction. If I want you to stop completely, I’ll say red . I’ve never done this before, so I don’t really know what my limits are, but I trust you to lead it.”

To be honest, I’m already wet thinking of letting Ace degrade me. Normally, something like this would be scary, but I trust him and know he’ll take care of me.

He tightens his arms around me, dropping his lips to my ear. “I can’t wait to make you my dirty little whore tonight, baby. I hope you’re ready.”

Tucking my lips over my teeth to hide the giddy smile that’s dying to break free, I steel my expression, willing the butterflies in my stomach to stand down before turning my head toward him. “Looking forward to it.”