5. Ace
Ace
I thought convincing her to stick around would be the hard part.
Turns out not pouncing on her is a challenge in itself. My hunger for her simmers, but I can see how exhausted she is. So I let her sleep on my bed, thighs spread and arms folded.
My shirt is too big for her, not long enough to hide her underwear. The same ones she wore earlier.
She doesn’t have any clothes. While I don’t understand her situation or why she came up here without anything, it doesn’t matter. I intend to give her whatever she needs.
If I have to trek my way back to town to get her clothes, I will. If it means getting wild looks from the locals, so be it.
June can’t come with me. If she does, someone will claim I’ve kidnapped her. Maybe I have. I don’t want them to take her away.
I don’t waste time leaving my cabin once she dozes off for a nap. Knowing this side of the mountain like the back of my hand, I take the quickest way down.
All my forty years, I’ve lived on this mountain.
As soon as I got the boot from my father, I bought my cabin.
Back then, it was in shambles. The poor realtor wanted to get it off her hands, and the previous owner was deceased.
No one was fighting over rotten boards and overgrown weeds.
It was an easy purchase, and the challenge of fixing it up kept me busy over the years.
Fairland is my home. Doesn’t matter that the streets don’t feel like it anymore—not since I stumbled back from the mountains that night, half my face ripped open, blood soaking through the makeshift bandages. The clinic lights burned brighter than the pain. The town’s whispers burned worse.
I won’t let this town scare away June. I’ll make her feel welcome.
By the time I make it to the mountain’s base, the sky is no longer blue. Painted in colors of orange, pink, and purple, I don’t linger long to enjoy the view. Not by myself. I’ll wait until she’s awake.
There isn’t much of a selection to pick from. The grocery store is the only place that hasn’t shut its doors. Coming down here a few times a month for essentials, I know they’ll have what I need. Enough to make her comfortable.
My skin crawls the moment I cross the store’s threshold. Fluorescent lights buzz like angry hornets. The cashier’s greeting dies in the air—I keep my gaze locked on the scratched counter, my throat tight with something bitter.
Thirty minutes. Just long enough to grab a few outfits and let my mind wander to her—how a soft cotton dress might cling to her hips during the warmer season, or how a sweater would smell like after she’s worn it during the colder season.
The mountain air should’ve cleared my head on the hike back. But then gravel crunches under tires, and a familiar red truck rolls up. Fairland Mountain Rescue printed on the door like a badge.
They’re polite. Always are. And normally, I’d rather walk barefoot over broken glass than accept charity when they offer a ride.
But June’s waiting.
The truck smells of pine and stale coffee. I count the minutes.
Then I’m home. My boots hit the porch with deliberate thuds, announcing my return before I can.
The door flies open before the second step.
And there she is. Eyes wide, lips parted, hands clutching the frame like she’s been standing there for hours.
“You disappeared. I woke up, and you were gone,” she starts, breathless. Then, when she sees the bags in my hands, confusion forms.
Eager to see my return, something in my chest stirs. Approval. Satisfaction.
“Clothes,” I answer simply. “You needed them.”
God, she’s radiant when she blushes. That pink flush spills from her cheeks down to her collarbones, and for a heartbeat, she studies her toes before peeking up through her lashes.
“You didn’t have to do that.” She plucks at the borrowed shirt clinging to her frame. “I mean… this one’s comfy. Might have to steal a few more…”
The bags hit the floor with a thud.
One step. That’s all it takes before she’s in my arms—her squeak of surprise dissolving into laughter as I hoist her up. She’s warm. Alive. And the way her legs instinctively wrap around my waist?
I know I can’t wait another minute before I make her mine.
“I bought a few dresses,” I murmur against her throat as I carry her through my— our cabin. “You can wear my shirts, steal them all. But I want to see you in other clothes, too. Please .”
She nods, breath already uneven as we reach the bedroom. The sheets are still tangled from where she’d slept earlier, carrying the warm imprint of her body.
I set her down—slowly—letting her feel every inch she slides against me before her feet touch the mattress. Then my fingers make quick work of the buttons, each pop revealing more of her.
More of her than I’ve ever seen. The soft curve of her stomach, rising with each shallow breath. The full swell of her breasts, tipped with peaks that beg for my mouth.
“Fuck me.” Pushing my shirt away, I watch the way she squirms. “June.”
I pant her name like a prayer, whispering it repeatedly as I struggle to believe she’s real. She is, I feel the heat of her body against my palm as I squeeze her breast. So soft and full.
Swooping in, her body arches as I wrap my lips around one bud. Nibbling and sucking, I squeeze the other.
It’s a shame I didn’t taste her everywhere earlier.
A broken moan lodges in her throat when my teeth graze her nipple—sharp, then soothing with the swipe of my tongue. Her back arches, fingers scrambling for anchor: one hand twisted in my hair, the other white-knuckling the sheets.
Back and forth, I give both buds attention. Only when her breathing turns ragged do I trail higher, my lips skating up the column of her throat.
“I want inside,” I murmur against her pulse point—and feel the way her body reacts. The sharp swallow. The hitch of her ribs. The way her hips arch up in a silent plea.
Every inch of her body is so sensitive. Twitching and jerking against my touch, the next sigh that leaves her lips is breathless as I grind my hips against hers.
My cock has been unforgiving, constantly swollen, constantly leaking. Every time I look at her, I want to claim her virginity. No, I’ve wanted more. Her dainty fingers against my shaft, her lips against my weepy head, all of it.
Each drag of my hips is a reminder of every hard inch that is hers.
Just like she is mine, I am hers.
“ Ace …” Whimpering my name, she tilts her chin back to give my mouth more room to kiss. A shudder wracks through her when I suck a mark against her skin, circling it with my tongue after.
Soon, she’s nodding. Without question, she wants me. Wants this. Us.
Pulling away, I peel off my shirt. Feeling better without it under her clouded gaze, my skin prickles the longer she stares.
She’s got that swollen bottom lip caught between her teeth again.
“You’re making it very hard to control myself.” Breathing in, the aroma of her arousal hits my nose like a perfume. My head spins as I inhale sharply, and I groan in the back of my throat.
Then she spreads her thighs. So slick, I can see the pink through the white, the fabric soaked.
I shouldn’t have bought her new underwear. Rather, I don’t want anything getting in my way whenever I want access to her pussy.
Reaching for her underwear, I slide them down her thighs. Fisting them tight, I bring them to my nose.
“That’s not—” Stuttering on her words as I breathe in deep, her blush grows.
“I’m addicted, June. Let me enjoy every hit I can get.” Moaning the words, I have to squeeze my cock through my jeans to control myself.
After the orgasm I rocked through her earlier, I could breathe her in like this, and rub myself raw so she can rest.
If she weren’t spread out on my sheets naked, I’d consider the idea.
Dropping her underwear, I take in her pussy. Puffy and pink, it’s hard to believe I had my face tucked between her thighs this afternoon.
June pinches her eyes shut when I part her lips with my fingertips, easing one finger inside.
I’m going to pop her cherry. There’s no doubt about it. But I’m going to make this good for her. She deserves all the pleasure in the world, and I won’t stop until I can offer it on a silver platter.