10
“THE FIRST THING I AM going to do is clean this hellhole,” I mutter, holding Ace’s hand as we move through the ship towards the captain’s quarters where Ace has told everyone we will be staying.
Very bossy of him.
Nobody cared; I think they were all just glad to have somewhere soft to sleep. Aggie has most of our blankets, so at least we can lay on them until we can wash the dirty sheets on the beds.
“Agreed,” Ace murmurs, opening the door to the room and stepping in.
It’s the same dirty magazine filth that we found the last time we searched this ship together. But, it’s a room, and it has a bed and a shower, so that’s something.
“I’m goin’ to clean that shower enough to make it good enough for us to step into,” Ace tells me. “You do what you can with the bed.”
I stare at the bed, and the messed up sheets and blanket.
Scrunching my nose, I nod. We get to work, even though we’re exhausted.
Somewhere on the ship, the rusty pipes groan as another shower is turned on.
I move towards the bed, and then without even looking, take all the blankets and sheets and rip them off.
Tossing them on the ground, nose still scrunched, I go out and collect my blanket from all the belongings we have on board.
Once I have laid it down flat, I go on a hunt for something to cover the pillows with.
I end up just taking another blanket and wrapping the pillows in it, so that at least they’re covered.
Then, I pick up as much trash from around the room as I can, stuffing it into the bin, so that it looks a little less foul.
I open a window just as Ace walks out from the bathroom, shirtless, looking somewhat disgusted.
“Fuck me, they’re pigs. All of them.”
I smile, walking over to him but he puts his hands up. “Baby, you don’t want to touch me. If you saw what I just dealt with...”
My hands drop.
He grins.
“So straight to the shower then?” I giggle, soft and low.
His eyes soften. “You know, I can’t say I’ve heard you giggle before.”
My cheeks heat. “Well, we might actually get to know each other now that we’re not constantly living in survival mode.”
His eyes grow hungry.
“Not like that, you animal,” I laugh.
“Get your clothes off. It has been too long since I have been inside you.”
My brows shoot up.
“If you thought I wasn’t goin’ to fuck you slowly in that shower, you’re mistaken.”
Oh my.
I drop my clothes without thought.
Mostly over the thought of him fucking me slowly in the shower, but also because I have forgotten what it feels like to have hot water running over my body. I am more than a little excited.
“Tell me there is at least soap in there,” I say, putting my hands together as if praying.
“Found a new block of soap under the sink, and shampoo. No conditioner, but hey, it’s better than nothing.”
I squeal, unable to help it. “Oh my god! Let’s go!”
I don’t walk to the bathroom, I run.
I don’t know what to expect, but honestly, I actually don’t really care that much.
The bathroom is a step down and a stumble left from the captain’s quarters, barely wide enough for two bodies—so obviously, Ace has to angle his way in behind me, or he’ll block the damn door.
The walls are metal, painted over with decades of grime that not even the purest bleach could ever lift, but Ace has scoured every surface that matters.
There’s a cracked mirror, a metal sink that’s seen at least thirty years, and a shower head that’s more of a pipe with holes in it. But it’s clean, enough.
I flick on the light. It’s one of those naked bulbs that hums with effort, casting everything gold.
Ace flips on the water and for a second both of us freeze, because the pipes rattle scarily loud, and then—like a miracle—water rolls out in a thick, glorious wave.
For a second, I can’t move. I am so tired, so absolutely fucking exhausted, but the idea of stepping into that hot water makes me want to cry.
“After you,” Ace says, but his voice is different now. There’s a kind of gentleness in it that I haven’t heard for quite some time now.
I do not hesitate.
My clothes hit the ground, and I step into the shower.
The water hits my skin and the first sound out of me is animal—a gasp, then a whimper.
I lean my body into the spray, letting it hit my chest, my neck, my face, and for a second, I just stand there with my eyes closed as layers of salt, sand, and whatever else wash off and down into the drain.
There isn’t a single moment in my life where I ever would have thought I could die happy from a shower.
Ace steps in too, not bothering to admire the view—he just puts his hands on my waist and presses his forehead between my shoulder blades, like he needs to make sure I am real and here and not about to vanish.
His moans sound basically the same as mine as the hot water washes over his skin.
For what feels like hours, we just stand there, eyes closed, tangled in each other, letting the hot water wash over us.
“Holy shit,” I moan, half-laughing, “I forgot what hot water actually felt like.”
He grumbles something against my back. “If you want me to leave you alone with it, I can.”
We both know he isn’t going to do that.
Instead, he grabs a bar of soap and works it into a lather, then starts washing my skin in slow, careful circles.
His hands are rough, but gentle. Tender, even.
He works from my shoulders down my arms, every inch, every scar, even my hands, which he holds with more reverence than I know what to do with.
I don’t know if it’s love, or just the relief of finally being safe for a second, but I could melt right here.
When he turns me around, I let my head fall against his chest, just for a second, so the steam can fog up my brain and make it impossible to think.
Ace lifts my chin. “You good, darlin’?”
I nod, unable to summon words, so I answer by winding my hands into his wet hair and kissing him like I’ve been starving for weeks.
Maybe I have. He tastes like soap, salt, and maybe a little blood.
He kisses me harder, pushes me back against the wall, hands everywhere, slick with water and heat and nothing but wanting.
We stay like that for a long time, and then he breaks the kiss and sinks to his knees. It’s so unexpected, I almost laugh, but there’s nothing funny about the way he looks up at me, hair stuck to his forehead, beard dripping, eyes molten.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
His hands are on my thighs, thumbs stroking up, up, up. He grins, wicked and hungry. “The fuckin’ things I would do to taste you, Gracie. You don’t want to know.”
Oh.
Oh my.
I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything except squeeze my fists hard against the wall behind me as Ace braces his hands on my thighs and pulls me forward.
I’ve seen every possible Ace, but this Ace—the one kneeling on the corroded shower floor, water pounding over his broad back, so hungry for me. Oh yes, this Ace might be my favourite.
He starts slow, his lips grazing my inner thigh, right above my knee, planting a kiss so soft I want to scream.
It’s torture; his hands are big enough to span my hips, and he uses every bit of that grip to anchor me in place as his mouth works up, nipping, kissing, licking a line that makes my knees wobble.
Steam fills the small space quickly, but it’s his tongue that is causing the most heat, flicking behind my knee before he nips just enough to make me gasp, just enough to make my fingers tangle into his wet hair.
I have never been more desperate for anything in my life.
The very thought of him doing what I know he is about to, is nearly enough to bring me to my knees.
The fantasies I have had of this exact moment.
“You... you don’t have to—” I try to say, but he cuts me off with a growl, a low, steady thing that vibrates up my leg to every part of me.
“I fuckin’ want to,” he rumbles, and suddenly his mouth is on me, devouring, tongue sinking into me, stroking over my clit with a quick burst.
He swears again, a string of filthy praise I can’t even register because all that matters is his tongue, swirling, then sucking, then working me in a rhythm that has me gasping.
I want to tell him that we’re going to fall over, that the water’s too hot, that I need him inside me so bad I might actually combust, but nothing comes out except a strangled moan.
He just keeps going, switching between delicate little flicks and rough, hungry sucks with maddening precision, like he’s mapped my body and knows exactly what I need.
My hips start moving, chasing his mouth, and he has to pin me harder, rougher, but I love it.
I love the way he won’t let me escape him.
My head hits the wall, and the sensation is nothing compared to the electricity threading through my nerves—every lick, every glide of his tongue shoots right up my spine.
He looks up at me, eyes hungry, water trickling down his jaw and over the curve of his lips, trailing off his now long and fucking gorgeous beard. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growls, and I can see he means it. He really, truly means it.
He doesn’t stay away long, he pulls my leg up and over his shoulder, making me gasp and then wiggle.
I have never had a man in front of me while I am so exposed before, not like this, anyway.
It has always been in dimmed rooms, with covers and boring men.
This, oh this, this is feral. A low rumble against my clit again, before he slides his fingers inside me and then sucks my clit hard enough to send a white-hot wave of pleasure right through me.
I didn’t even know I could make these kinds of sounds.
My hand is in his hair, fisting hard enough to hurt, but he just growls against me, and keeps licking, sucking, driving me mad. He doesn’t stop, not until I’m trembling and begging, my fingers pressing as hard as I can against the tiled wall, so much so they ache.