10. Symphonies #3
The challenge in her eyes matched the fire in his, a raw, explosive war of wills that played out on the piano’s surface.
Their bodies were locked in a brutal rhythm, a desperate dance, and yet, somewhere in the storm, Scarlett found the truth in his words—she pushed against him with everything she had; there was a part of her, deep inside, that wanted to give in to him.
The air between them crackled with an unspoken tension.
Ace’s breath grew more labored, his voice husky with that same possessive hunger.
“You’re mine, Scarlett,” he growled, thrusting deeper, harder, as if to drive the point home.
Pulling out Ace turned her over to her stomach, gripping onto her hip and the other at her throat, curving her back as he slammed into her.
The new position made Scarlett cry out even louder now as she gripped the top of the piano, her hands trying to gain purchase as he continued claiming her.
He pulled her hair, turning her head toward him.
“Look at me as you come undone around my cock.” Her lashes fluttered as her climax crashed through her like a wave, leaving her breathless and trembling in its wake.
But even in the aftermath of it, Scarlett held on, her fingers still clutching at the piano, her body still arching toward his, daring him to keep going.
Ace’s rhythm faltered as she pushed her hips into him, meeting him thrust for thrust. His groan was a low rumble she felt through her core.
He pressed into her once more, each movement dragging him toward the inevitable conclusion.
With a final, forceful thrust, he groaned her name, the sound raw and desperate, his body shuddering as he released inside her.
They lay there, tangled across the piano, the realm outside forgotten for a moment, nothing but the weight of their bodies and the aftermath of their collision.
Scarlett’s breath still came in ragged bursts, as she lay against the cool wood of the piano, her legs still entwined with his. Ace, chest heaving against her back, brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch softer now, but the same possessive hunger in his gaze remained.
For a long moment, neither spoke nor moved. They just breathed together, the quiet aftermath hanging between them, the storm that had passed still echoing in the silence.
Finally, Scarlett, still pressed against the piano, gave a lazy push against his chest with her shoulder, though it was more a gesture of command than weakness. “Move, Spade,” she said, her voice a quiet but unmistakable demand.
Ace paused, lips curling into that familiar knowing smirk. He arched a brow, eyes glinting with mischief. “Say please.”
Her grin sharpened, full of challenge and playful defiance. “I’ll say it when you’re on your knees,” she quipped, voice dripping with that same boldness.
Ace chuckled, his voice rich with amusement, “Oh, Scarlett, you do have a way of making everything so... entertaining.”
And as she slipped away from him, legs unsteady and pulse racing, she knew that this would never be finished. There would be no easy surrender between them. Not yet. The game was far from over.
“I think you owe me a new dress, Spade.” She said with a huff, fiddling with the sides of her bodice before giving up.
She slid the dress from her hips, stepping out.
She grabbed Ace’s discarded shirt, slipping her arms through the sleeves.
His scent of smoke and iron hit her as she did the buttons.
Straightening the bottom of the shirt over her bare thighs, she glared up at Ace, placing her hands on her hips.
Ace looked at her with amusement and adoration. “Indeed, My Little Queen.” He chuckled. Scarlett walked away from him on a huff at the nickname.
The corridors grew colder across her bare legs as she moved across the palace, shadows stretching, walls whispering judgment with every step.
When she reached her chambers, she leaned against the door, letting out a shaky breath.
The taste of Ace lingered on her lips—neither sweet nor bitter, but somewhere in between.
It wasn’t the fire of Arley’s wildness or the grounding heat of Maddox’s devotion.
This was something else. She was caught between realms—neither entirely his nor fully theirs.
A connection she didn’t quite understand, but couldn’t deny.
His presence was woven into her like a thread she couldn’t pull free of.
She was both trapped and bound, unable to resist, yet unwilling to choose.
Every nerve in her body screamed from the intensity of it all, but her thoughts inevitably drifted to Maddox and to Arley.
Her heart twisted painfully. Could she really have all of them?
Could she claim her sovereignty over herself?
Over them, without everything falling apart?
Would Maddox and Arley forgive her for taking another?
Would they forgive their unspoken rivalry in the name of love?
The discordant echoes of the piano still hummed through her veins, a reminder that while Ace had tested her, she had tested him right back. And in that game of wills, she was still standing, still in control.