6. June
June
I’ve made up my mind. Screw any of my previous plans. None of them had Ace in them.
He’s painted a picture of a future that doesn’t look meek. Rather, it’s promising. Secure. Even better, he’s making me feel something that no one has ever before. Wanted. Loved.
He may seem beastly, rough around the edges, but he’s exactly what I crave. He’s already claimed my heart—now, with every slow, deliberate thrust of his fingers, my body surrenders to him, piece by piece.
His gaze burns heavier with every twitch of my body—watches like he’s memorizing the way I unravel just for him. Then, without warning, a second thick finger presses in, stretching me in a way that borders on too much.
I choke back a gasp, my walls fluttering around the intrusion, trying desperately to adjust. The stretch burns—sweetly—and all I can think about is the brutal thickness of him straining against his jeans, impatient.
“Don’t keep them inside,” he hums, hooking me in place by pressing a certain spot that makes my vision blurry. “I want to hear you, all of you.”
He’s torturing me.
His fingers work deep, stretching me with meticulous care—ignoring the desperate ache of my clit. Every drag of his knuckles inside me pulls a whimper from my throat, every retreat leaves me clenching around nothing.
When my hips lift, begging silently, he withdraws completely.
“No!” The cry tears from me, ragged and unashamed.
His laugh is dark velvet, curling around me as I reach for him like a drowning woman. “Soon.” A single syllable that vibrates through my bones.
Then—the pop of his button. The rasp of his zipper. The sharp hiss of his breath as he frees himself.
My tongue swells twice the size inside of my mouth as he frees his erection.
He’s thick—obscenely so—with a weight that makes my thighs tremble just looking at it.
His cock juts proudly from dark curls, veins roping along its length like braided steel under flushed skin.
The head glistens, weeping with anticipation, so sensitive that a single swipe of his thumb wrings a growl from his throat as he swipes away a bead of precum.
Just when I think I’m the one falling apart, he shows me the state he’s currently in.
If two of his fingers held such a stretch, there is no chance he plans on putting that thing inside of me. I tell him that too, my eyes big.
“I’ll fit,” he reassures as he strokes the entire length. “I know I will.”
Having enough confidence to split between the two of us, he’s crowding closer, hips wedging my thighs apart. His brows furrow in concentration, and I watch the way his jaw clenches, the vein in his throat jumping like he’s holding back a storm.
He’s trying so hard to be gentle. The last thing on his mind is hurting me, but it can’t be avoided. The best I can do is cling on without scaring him off.
Ace can’t change his mind. We’re too far into this. I want him inside.
Once he’s guiding himself forward, I’m biting the inside of my cheek while preparing for the worst.
His hands move to cradle my hips as he presses forward, and oh—
My eyes squeeze shut at the stretch, the burn. A whimper escapes before I can catch it.
“Look at me.” His voice is gravel wrapped in velvet. When I obey, his gaze holds mine with terrifying tenderness, even as his body advances relentlessly.
We keep our eyes locked as he starts to rock. Short, shallow thrusts open me up to his invasion. The burn dulls, replaced by a steady thrum of pleasure. Even more so when he leans closer, pressing against the same spot his fingers had been teasing earlier.
“Breathe,” he coaxes, the order meant for both of us.
I do. Every lungful is full of him. The scent of our arousal, the sweat collecting on our skin.
Slow at first. Long, deep strokes that make my toes curl into the sheets. His lips trace my collarbone, worshipful.
When he pulls back, I know what’s next. One full thrust is all he needs to steal my innocence.
His mouth crashes over mine the moment he sheathes himself fully, swallowing my gasp like it’s the last sound he’ll ever let me make. The pain is bright, fleeting—drowned beneath the relentless roll of his hips.
The delicious friction of his body grinding against my clit with every movement, turning sharp breaths into whimpers, whimpers into pleasure.
“That’s it,” he murmurs against my lips, “knew you could take me.”
I want to laugh, but every noise that leaves my lips is uneven, all over the place.
Struggling to focus on both him and the stroke of his cock, I put all my attention on the pleasure bubbling in my gut and the pressure that comes from it.
His moans hot against my throat only add to it.
When my nails dig into his shoulders, when my legs lock around his waist—
Something snaps in him.
The world narrows to the slap of skin, the creak of the bed protesting beneath us, the way his moans vibrate against my throat like a second pulse as his thrusts grow uneven. Frantic. Desperate.
I can’t think—can’t breathe—not with the pleasure coiling tighter, tighter, a live wire sparking down to my toes. My nails carve half-moons into his shoulders, my legs locking around him like I could fuse us together.
His curse is ragged, hot against my ear as his rhythm fractures. No more control. Just need, pure and primal, each thrust punching a gasp from my lungs. The pressure in my gut surges, crests, and I break.
My body convulses, inner muscles fluttering wildly around him in frantic, pulsing waves before clamping around him, squeezing his length in a death grip. Rough enough to make a snarl ripple through him. I feel the swell of his cock, a telltale sign of his approaching release.
A sob tears free as pleasure detonates through me, white-hot and endless. He follows with a groan, his body bowing over mine, forehead pressed to my collarbone as he spills deep inside.
Clinging onto him, I feel each slow rock of his hips as I milk him dry of his release.
Once we’re reduced to nothing but the soft panting, he looks at me in a way that makes my heart swoon. So soft and gentle.
Against my chest, I feel the thumps of a racing heart. I can’t tell if it’s mine or his. Rather, it could be both of ours at this rate.
Wrapping his arms around me, he crushes my body to the mattress, making it hard to breathe as he rests his cheek against my chest. Almost like he’s worried I’ll drift away.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I promise him softly as I stroke the curve of his spine. “I came to this mountain looking for a new start, Ace. Sure, you might not have been the original path, but this is where I ended up. There’s no other place I’d want to be.”
A satisfied sigh rumbles through his chest. His body is a warm, heavy weight against mine as he hugs me closer. Exhaustion pulls at my limbs, sweet and syrupy, but I fight it just long enough to turn my face into the crook of his neck.
“I think I might love you,” I murmur against his skin, the words slipping free like a secret I’ve held too long. “Is that crazy?”
His breath hitches. For a moment, the world stills. His eyes bore into mine. Then his arms tighten around me, crushing me to him like he’s memorizing the shape of my body.
“Tomorrow,” he rasps, voice thick with something unspoken, “I’ll remind you why you said that.”
A laugh bubbles up, tired but bright. “I look forward to it.”
Here’s to hoping Ace isn’t impatient and doesn’t try to remind me tonight. I don’t think my body will be able to keep up with him.