Chapter 50 Ace
Ace
As I’m reading a book in the library, the unusual banging of pots and pans being tossed around piques my curiosity.
King’s been busy working for the past few hours, so I found my respite in the form of a book.
However, the clanging coming from the kitchen grabs my attention.
I set the worn novel on the side table then walk down the hall.
A giant smile nearly splits my face in two when I see Kingston in a black apron with his back to me and his head in the fridge. The view is pretty damn appetizing, but the curiosity still seems to have gotten the best of me as I get his attention.
“Whatcha doin’?”
Turning around, he gives me a megawatt grin that would melt the panties off a nun. But it’s meant for me. Somehow, that only amplifies its effect.
“Hey. Just thought I’d make some dinner.”
“You cook?”
“I told you I did. Mama Romano taught me,” he explains.
“Well, yeah, but I assumed when you said she taught you, you meant you watched her cook and stole nibbles here and there.”
With a laugh, he shakes his head and corrects me. “If I ever stole a taste without helping, I’d have gotten smacked with the spatula. Never underestimate a Romano chef in the kitchen. Now, get over here and help me.”
There’s something about the way he bosses me around.
Maybe it’s his voice that sends tingles down my spine.
Maybe it’s his quirked brow that begs me to challenge him.
Regardless, my body obeys without a second thought.
Making my way around the island, I stand with my arms at my sides and wait for my orders.
With a tomato in one hand and some garlic cloves in the other, Kingston wraps me in a warm hug and plants a soft kiss against my temple. “You look amazing today.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself. I like the apron, by the way. Very manly.”
He scrunches up his face teasingly before releasing me from our embrace and tossing the tomato at me.
When I catch it, he explains, “Red is a bitch to get out of white. Gotta cover up, Ace. It’s rule number one in the kitchen. Now, grab the cutting board over there and the knife from the knife block. Chop, chop.”
He smacks my butt for good measure, leaving me with teeth marks in my lower lip where I bit them in an attempt to keep myself from smiling so damn hard.
I like playful Kingston. I like him a lot.
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen this side of him before, but I’m pretty sure I’d do anything to keep him around, which is why I ask, “So you have rules, eh?”
After reaching for the cutting board, I put the tomato and garlic on top of it as I wait for his answer.
“Huh?”
“You said. ‘rule number one, gotta cover up in the kitchen.’” I mimic his voice, dropping mine down a few octaves which only makes him laugh.
“Is that what I sound like?”
I shrug before grabbing the knife and getting to work on this tomato, along with the three others he’s added to the stack.
“Pretty much but with a bossier tone. You should probably work on that.”
“But if I lost my bossy tone, how would I get my men to listen to me?” he counters.
“Good point. You’d probably have to look for a different profession. And let’s be honest…,”––I point the knife toward his covered torso––“I don’t see you pulling off the apron long-term.”
In retaliation, Kingston grabs a dish towel and whips it at my butt, snapping it against my jeans and making me squeal.
“Bullshit,” he argues. “We both know I pull off the apron like a master chef.”
“Maybe Betty Crocker,” I tease with a wink.
He laughs, throwing his head back and giving me a decent view of the long column of his throat along with a nice peek of his chest since the first two buttons on his shirt have been undone after a long day at work.
The normalcy of the moment is almost enough to make me forget the shitstorm we’re in.
Right now, I can pretend we’re an ordinary couple making dinner after a day at the office.
The thought makes me pause, and Kingston must notice my lack of contribution to the dish because I find his arms around my waist within seconds.
Resting his chin on my shoulder, he asks, “You okay?”
The sincerity seeping out of him makes me hesitate and search for the truth. I haven’t dared to ask myself if I’m okay because I’ve been too afraid of the answer. As his embrace tightens, I melt into him.
“No. I’m not okay. But I will be as soon as we kill Burlone. I want to thank you for tonight, though. For this.” I turn my head to look at him over my shoulder, and he smiles softly as I add, “This normalcy is exactly what I needed.”
“Anytime, Wild Card. So, what were you saying about my rules? Were you making fun of me?” He goes to tickle my sides when I stop him.
“No, never! I was just going to tell you that I have my own set of rules too.”
His hands drop from my ribs and press into the cool granite on either side of me instead.
“Oh, really? I’m intrigued. Let’s hear them.”
Setting down the knife, I turn around in his arms until he’s caging me against the center island.
“Rule number one: Keep your head down and your eyes up. It makes you invisible but not stupid.”
“Truth. What’s rule number two?”
“Always be aware of your surroundings.”
He grabs the knife still sitting behind me and moves it a couple of feet away before picking me up and setting me on the counter. I grab onto his shoulders to keep myself balanced as a breath of laughter escapes me.
“Number three?” he probes.
“If something feels fishy, it probably is. Trust your instincts.”
His gaze drops to my mouth.
“And what are your instincts telling you right now?”
Sliding his hands to my lower back, he drops them to my butt and pulls me closer until I have no choice but to wrap my legs around his waist or drop to the floor.
“Rule number five,” I whisper, ignoring his question. “Be a machine. Don’t allow distractions. They’ll only break you.”
“Am I a distraction?”
With a smile, I murmur, “Only the best kind.”
He leans closer and nuzzles into my neck. The friction makes me sigh, and I tilt my head up to give him better access.
“Rule number six: Don’t get personal,” I continue as the buzz from his kiss sends tingles racing down my spine.
“This feels pretty personal to me, Ace.”
With my heart pounding in my chest, I chuckle at the ludicrousness of the situation. Yeah. I’d say this is pretty personal to me too.
“Any more rules I should know about?” he breathes, the words tickling my sensitive skin.
“Rule number seven: Never leave something of value out in the open.”
He picks me up and tosses me over his shoulder. “Good point. Let’s take this to the bedroom.”
My laughter follows us down the hall until we reach his destination. With a slam of the door, my feet are on the ground, then his hands are on me and roaming every inch of skin on display. Clearly unsatisfied with the lack of accessibility, he grabs the hem of my shirt and tugs it over my head.
“You skipped rule number four,” he notes.
“Never say never.”
This one makes him pause, his gaze zeroing in on my mouth.
“Truth,” he murmurs. My dark hair cascades around my shoulders before his hands are tangling into my locks and holding me in place.
With a growl, his tongue dips into my mouth, and a soft moan escapes me from the unexpected intrusion.
There’s no messing around with Kingston.
He takes what he wants. And his kisses prove exactly that.
When he’s satisfied I won’t move, his calloused hands glide down my back before unhooking my bra.
Breasts free, he tosses the flimsy black material to the ground at my feet before cupping my breasts and squeezing.
My head drops down to see his rough palms touching me so intimately.
Shit, that’s hot.
With a wicked grin, he nudges my head with his, and I look up to see his eyes glowing with mirth.
“You like that, Ace?”
“You know I do,” I counter, both annoyed and embarrassed at his blunt assessment.
“Let me show you what else you’ll like.”
His touch skims down my bare stomach before he unbuttons my jeans and grabs my ass, lifting me with ease until I have no choice but to wrap my legs around his taut waist. My arms follow suit as I use his shoulders to balance myself.
Eyes narrowing as I assess my bare skin against his clothed torso, I decide he’s wearing way too many clothes right now, and I fumble with the buttons on his pristine white dress shirt.
“Anxious, Wild Card?” He smirks when he sees my struggle.
I motion to the damn shirt that refuses to cooperate. “Micromanaging, King?” I return with a scowl. “You try it. These things are stubborn.”
His amused lips drop a quick kiss to my nose before he lays me down on the bed, and I’m surprised by his gentleness.
As my weight presses into the mattress, he grabs the waistband of my jeans and tugs them off in one quick yank, nearly taking me with them.
The action pulls a fit of giggles out of me.
So much for being gentle.
“Careful, King! Or else I’ll end up on the floor!”
“Would you land on your knees?” he razzes, quirking his brow in interest.
“Shut up and get your shirt off before I change my mind.”
With ease, his fingers triumph in the battle between buttons and man as he finally starts to take off his shirt.
My mouth waters as more and more skin is put on display for my own personal view.
Yes, I’ve seen him without a shirt before, but it never fails to impress me.
The muscles of his chest tighten, and his abs flex, showcasing a six-pack that is damn near edible before the white material slides down his thick biceps.
My hands itch to reach out and touch them when his voice distracts me.
“Yeah, I don’t see that happening,” he comments.
“Huh?” I ask, confused but refusing to look away from his hot, tan skin that’s on full display.
He laughs. “You changing your mind. I don’t see that happening. Not when you’re looking at me like that.”
If I had any sense of pride, I might prove him wrong, but I’m a helpless mess right now, and I need him.
I need him so damn bad it’s not even funny.
So, instead, I give him a half-assed glare before sitting up and hooking my fingers into the belt loops of his slacks.
Then I tug him toward me. He catches himself with his hands as I find myself on my back being caged in by a strong, powerful man who could squash me like a bug if he wanted to.
But instead, he looks down at me as if I’m more valuable than the Mona Lisa. And I kind of love it.
“I’m going to make you mine now, Ace,” he murmurs. It isn’t a question, and he sure as hell isn’t asking permission, yet I know he’d stop if I asked him.
And I kind of love him for that too.
Snaking my arms around his back, I drag my fingers up to his shoulders and pull him down until his weight is sandwiching me between his muscular frame and the mattress.
The heat from his skin brands me, making my nipples harden as his chest brushes against mine.
But I’m not scared. The realization is staggering, and spurs me on.
I comb my fingers through the back of his hair as he bends down for another kiss.
And once again, I find myself lost to him.
He nibbles on my lower lip before peppering kisses along my throat and chest, slipping my nipple into my mouth and running his tongue along the small bud as his hand massages my other breast.
I open my thighs, cradling his chest and rocking my hips back and forth as my desperation threatens to consume me.
I can feel his smile against my heated skin before he lets go of my breast with his mouth and slides lower, continuing his torture until I’m nothing but a bundle of nerves and anticipation.
“King––”
“Shh,” he murmurs, dragging his gaze away from my core to focus on my heated cheeks. “Let me taste you.”
Again. It isn’t a question. It’s a demand. One that I’m terrified to give into, yet helpless against it.
He’s right. He does own me. And he’s about to prove it.
His fingers dance along my inner thighs as he appreciates the most intimate piece of me before his tongue darts between his lips. Then he leans closer and breathes me in. My muscles tense, but his hands keep me in place. When his tongue slips between my folds, my jaw drops.
“Shit,” I curse, squirming beneath him. I just can’t decide if I’m trying to get away from him or pull him closer.
His chuckle vibrates against my core, and loosens the vice around my heart.
Or maybe it tightens it. Honestly, I’m not sure.
The only thing I can focus on is his touch.
His tongue. The way his scruff tickles my inner thighs.
The way his hot breath fans against my center.
All of it is enough to send me spiraling in an instant.
My back arches as he pulls an orgasm from me before climbing back up my body.
I can taste myself on his lips when he captures my mouth with his, but it doesn’t disgust me.
It only spurs me on, lighting another fire to replace the one he’d just let consume me.
“You okay?” he whispers, resting his head against mine.
My chest rises and falls as I catch my breath before giving him a nod.
“Good girl.”
Satisfied, Kingston slips his hand between us and lines himself up with me. This is it. The moment I’d been positive would wreck me. But I’m not scared. Not anymore. Because it’s King. My King. The head of his cock nudges against my center.
“You ready?” he rasps.
I look up at him and nod.
Then he presses into me. Stretching me. Making me his while erasing every memory from my childhood that convinced me I was ruined. That I was nothing but a chewed up piece of used gum that no one would ever want. Because King wants me.
He needs me.
And I need him.
My toes curl and my lips part before he captures my mouth with his and slides his tongue into me, mimicking his movements as he slowly pumps his hips.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
As the minutes tick by and the anticipation builds, his thrusts get more desperate, and so do I.
Because it’s too much, and somehow not enough at the same time.
Too much lust. Too many feelings. Too many nerves that are threatening to explode.
And yet, I want more. I need more. I need him.
All of him. My fingers scrape along his back and I hook my ankles around his waist.
“Faster,” I breathe.
He picks up his pace, and swallows my moan as he hits the perfect spot inside of me. His grunts mirror my gasps. Then my eyelids slam shut and I finally give in. I let myself fall. For the man. The life. The unknown. All of it.
And in this moment, as he takes a piece of me that I’ve finally given willingly for the first time in my life, I feel normal. And maybe even a little loved too while my rules take a backseat, and Kingston steals the spotlight, promising me that it’s okay to fall.
And that he’ll catch me.