Chapter 25 #3
“I don’t want this to stop.” I slide my hands up her thighs, my thumbs brushing over her soft skin. “God, I want you. More than I’m scared of it, but—”
Her hips shift, her heat pressing against me, and a groan tears from my chest before I can stop it.
“But what?”
“Keep your hands there, okay?” I glance at her grip on my shoulders. I need that—need to feel her steadying me. Need to know I won’t fucking shatter the second she touches me back.
“And… I need you to know I haven’t been with anyone since you. So, I’m going to come like a two-pump chump,” I murmur, my fingers hovering at the edge of the lace of her thong as my breath comes in shallow bursts.
“It’s okay,” she says softly, misreading my awe for hesitation. “We don’t have to rush this.”
Rush this?
I let out a breathless, almost disbelieving chuckle. “Trouble, this has been in the making for almost a decade. Sixteen-year-old Ace would be so proud right now.”
“Idiot.” She giggles, the sound a fucking balm, making a smile spread on my lips. But her laugh becomes a soft gasp as my hand slips beneath the lace, pulling it to the side so my fingertips can brush over her soft, damp heat.
Fuck.
She whimpers softly, her hips jolting at the touch, and I swear, I see stars. It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. A groan rumbles in my chest as I drag my fingers over her slit.
“You’re wet,” I state like an idiot, surprised, as my fingers glide over the slickness between her thighs. “For me?”
I haven’t even done anything yet.
I barely trust myself to move, barely trust that this is real, but fuck—she’s so soft, so warm, so unbelievably ready for me, and it’s short-circuiting my goddamn brain.
“Yes, for you.” It’s a whisper wrapped in need. Her lips curl into a breathless smile, and a chuckle escapes on a shaky pant. “Ace, you’re driving me crazy over here.”
I am?
Fuck.
She’s driving me crazy too.
I swallow hard, trying to grasp some thread of control, but it slips through my fingers like the wetness coating them.
My fingers glide through her arousal, circling her clit, testing, remembering.
Her hips jerk at the motion, a broken sound escaping her lips.
God, she’s still as responsive as I remember—every little twitch and moan pulls me deeper into her.
“You feel like heaven,” I murmur, my voice barely audible over her ragged breaths. My words make her shudder, and her hips rock instinctively against my hand, seeking more. Her need, her trust—it’s everything. I’m desperate to give her what she wants, what she deserves.
Her head falls back, her hair cascading over her shoulders, her throat bared, pulse hammering.
And I can’t stop myself. My mouth is on her before I even register moving, pressing hot, open-mouth kisses along the delicate skin between her breasts and tasting the heat of her, feeling her heartbeat thud against my lips.
I trace the curve of one breast with my tongue, savoring every fucking second of this. The way she arches into me, the way she shivers when I drag my teeth over her soft skin. A keening moan spills from her lips, and I swear to God, it does something to me. Something unhinged.
Her taste, her scent, the way she moves beneath me like I’m the only thing that exists—it’s intoxicating. I’m drunk on her.
My free hand steadies her as my fingers press deeper, finding that spot that used to make her shatter. Her reaction is instant. Her thighs tremble around me, and her hips move frantically, chasing the sensation like she needs it more than air.
“Ace,” she gasps out, my name not just a word, but a plea, a confession, a fucking surrender.
I growl low in my throat, the sound vibrating against her skin as I take her nipple into my mouth, sucking gently before biting down. Her cry is sharp, raw, and utterly beautiful. Her body clenches, her muscles locking up as she shatters around me.
I don’t stop, I can’t.
I draw it out, my fingers still working her, my mouth still claiming her, until she’s gone, lost in it, riding my hand with reckless abandon. Her hips buck wildly, her breath coming in short, frantic gasps, her hands scrambling at my shoulders and hair like she doesn’t know what to hold on to.
I know the feeling.
“You’re so perfect,” I whisper against her skin, the words a truth I’ve carried with me for years.
My lips trail slow, reverent kisses over every inch of her I can reach. My heart pounds, my cock throbbing almost painfully against her thigh, but I don’t move. I don’t rush. Because this isn’t just about me. It never was.
Right now, all that matters is her—seeing her like this, undone, knowing I did that, and she’s letting me.
Her tremors subside, her breath warm and erratic against my neck as she melts into me. I stroke her back in slow, soothing circles, kissing her temple as she clings to my shoulders.
And I don’t mind one bit.
She pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, and fuck, she’s wrecked—flushed cheeks, lips swollen and kiss-stung, green eyes dark with lingering heat. I swear I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
“Take off your sweats.” Her voice is soft but sure, edged with something like anticipation. But there’s a flicker of hesitation, too, like she’s offering, not demanding as if she needs me to meet her halfway.
A fresh wave of desire slams into me, but it wars with the hesitation lodged deep in my ribs. I sit up, muscles coiled tight, and she shifts with me.
She rests a hand on my chest, the heat of her palm sinking into my skin. Then, slowly—so fucking slowly—she drags it lower over my ribs and stomach until her fingers catch on my sweats’ waistband.
My breath locks in my throat.
I should help her. I should shove the damn things off like I want this as bad as I do. But the moment she hooks her fingers into the fabric, my pulse jackhammers, and I realize—
She’s the first person to touch me like this in almost a decade.
She must sense it, the hesitation I can’t mask, because she doesn’t rush. Instead, she traces a featherlight touch over the waistband, like she’s letting me make the final move. Like she’s saying, It’s okay. Take your time.
Something in my chest pulls tight.
But I don’t want time.
Not anymore.
I exhale sharply and lift my hips, shoving the waistband down in one swift motion, freeing myself.
The cool air is nothing compared to the heat of her gaze.
Her lips part slightly, her breath hitching as her eyes lower, taking in every inch of me. My cock is thick, hard, aching, the tip flushed and leaking against my stomach. And she just watches.
She drags her fingers along my thigh first, skimming higher, not touching my cock yet. Her hesitation is deliberate, like she’s savoring this—like she’s making sure I want it.
Fuck, I want it.
“Yes?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper.
I swallow, my body wound so fucking tight I feel like I might snap. My hands fist in the sheets, trying to hold on to the last shred of control.
She doesn’t press. She waits.
“Yes,” I rasp, the word breaking free on a strangled breath.
Her fingers wrap around the base of my cock, soft, tentative, and my entire body shudders.
Holy shit.
She tilts her head, watching me like she’s fascinated by every tiny reaction. Then, keeping her grip light, she glides the head of my cock through her wetness, coating me in her heat, letting me feel just how ready she is.
A strangled groan rips from my throat, and my hips jerk instinctively, chasing the sensation. My hands fly to her waist, holding her steady.
She licks her lips like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me, savoring every damn second of my unraveling.
I feel her shift so the head of my cock presses against her entrance, just barely, just enough to tease. And I’m shaking. Fucking shaking.
I try to wait. Try to let her control the pace. Try to be patient.
But then—
Something inside me snaps.
With a growl that barely sounds human, I grab her hips and drive myself into her with one deep thrust.
The sound she makes is half a gasp, half a broken moan, her fingers clutching my shoulders like she was expecting the hesitation, not the fire.
I don’t give her time to adjust. I can’t. Because the second I’m fully inside her, with her heat wrapped around me and body molding to mine—it’s over. My control is fucking gone.
Her nails dig into my skin, her hips jerking against me, meeting me, taking me deeper, like she doesn’t want slow either.
And God help me, I don’t think I’ll survive this.
“Nova…” Her breasts press against my chest, and her heart hammers in time with mine.
“You feel so good,” she pants out.
“I’m not going to last,” I warn while my grip on her hips tightens, trying to keep her pace steady, but it’s no use.
She’s too much—too perfect, too beautiful, too everything I’ve ever wanted but thought I couldn’t have.
“Then let go for me.” Her words undo me, and with one last roll of her hips, I’m gone. My release rips through me, leaving me trembling and gasping as I bury my face in her neck, holding her as tightly as I dare.
My ears are ringing when I come back to earth, but Nova’s murmured words break through the noise. “I love you.”
I try to catch my breath while her fingers brush through my hair.
“I love you, too, but fuck, that was disappointing.”
God, she’s never going to have sex with me again.
“Nothing about you could ever be disappointing.”
The knot in my chest loosens enough to allow me to breathe again.
We collapse onto the bed together, her body tucked against mine, and I don’t feel trapped. I don’t want to escape this.
I crave it.
Crave her.
“Need more of you,” I murmur into her hair, breathing in her candy scent.
“Need more of you, too,” she whispers as she shifts off me, making me pull out, but she’s still close enough for her breath to brush my neck. “Give me your hand.”