Page 80 of Until Ace

Not like this.

I pull at his hair, gaining his focus on my face, and demand, “I want to come with you inside me.”

His eyes close, he stops what he’s doing, and he swirls the tip of his nose on my clit before he shrugs my leg off his shoulder.

The next thing I know, he’s standing up, his jeans are magically open, his hands come to the place where my ass meets my legs, and he lifts me up. The shock of it all isn’t even over before he’s pushing his cock inside me, filling me in one thrust.

“Yes,” I hiss at the slight bite of pain from it all.

He pauses once he’s all the way in, his eyes searching mine. “Are you okay?”

I know he means more than just this position, but right now, I don’t care about anything other than the two of us.

“With you, I’m perfect,” I answer honestly.

His eyes flare, and he starts to move. He plunges into me over and over, his tempo quickening.

“Ace,” I moan, clawing at his shoulders, scared of the feeling that threatens to tear me apart.

“Let go,” he grunts.

“I can’t,” I gasp.

“Mandy, let go,” he barks, his hips snapping forward over and over, pushing me toward another high.

It’s only when Ace leans down and bites my neck that it happens. The sting of pain pushes me over, and an orgasm more powerful than ever before washes over me.

I ride its waves, delirious with pleasure.

“Fuck yes,” Ace grunts, his thrusts becoming savage. And after three more, he pushes his face into my neck and sucks the skin where he bit, his body going still, his growl echoing inside me.

Chapter 18

Mandy

"You know… the fucked-up thing is, I know exactly when it started.”

We’re in bed, sleep not far away, after I asked him what he meant when he said he knew the hurt I’m feeling.

I know he only has Beverly, but he never explained further. And honestly, I was so wrapped up in my own shit I never asked.

But now I can’t stop thinking about it.

I know this is not a pretty story, but seeing the change in Ace as he talks, not only do I brace myself, but my heart gives an almighty clench. "She had kidney stones. Nothing major, nor did it require surgery. Still, after examining her, the doctor sent her home with Vicodin."

"What?" I can hear his words; I even understand them. Still, I can't comprehend what he's saying.

He turns his head on the pillow to look at me. In the dark, all his demons shine bright for me to see. My palms itch to touch him, but I don’t. I don’t want to do anything that will make him stop talking. He needs to get it out. I know if he doesn’t, it’ll eat him alive. I was in the same position not even three hours ago. That’s the thing with trauma. You may think you’re all right and that you dealt with it, when unknowingly you’ve only shoved it aside to be able to function. One day, something will remind you of it, but it won’t trigger you. And you’ll get a false sense that you’re ‘over it,’ that you’ve moved on and dealt with it. Then, when you least expect it, it comes out with bared teeth.

"They sent her home with a month-worth,” he whispers. “She went through them in two weeks.”

I open my mouth, but not a single word comes out. He puts his palms over his face, his breath coming out in spurts.

I scoot over to him slowly, like I’m approaching a wounded animal. Reaching out, I touch his hair, and his whole body visibly shudders.

Seeing him struggle to keep everything inside, his chest heaving with the intensity of his feelings, I scoot more until the length of my body is touching his. Automatically, his arms circle my hips and pull me even closer. He turns, bends, and buries his head into my stomach, so tightly I feel almost a painful amount of pressure.

He doesn’t need to say anything. I know how the story goes. Hell, everyone does.