Page 89 of Match Me if You Can

Still.

“Breakfast is ready, my babies!” Joan calls through the wood.

My eyes fly to Ace’s. Hold.

“Fuck,” he growls, and I don’t know if it’s because the surprise had my fingers tightening or if it’s the interruption.

“Ace?” Joan hollers. “Violet?”

He growls again.

Right. My orgasm is making my thoughts fuzzy. It’s definitely the interruption.

“Honey?” Her voice is edging toward frantic.

Ace closes his eyes and I watch him count to ten. Then he reaches between us, peels my hand off his cock, and says loudly enough to be heard through the door, “We’ll be down in a minute, Mom.”

“Okay, baby, no rush!” she calls back.

He groans, drops his head forward, and his big, broad shoulders rising and falling on a breath.

I bite my lip. “Should I⁠—?”

His eyes scald mine then he levers himself out of bed, strides angrily over to his suitcase.

Right, I think again.

That’s a no.

Still, I lie there and enjoy the view of his ass.

It’s a spectacular ass—mostly because hockey players have great asses—but also because it’s Ace’s ass, which makes it even better.

He straightens, spins, and I get a whole new version of even better.

Spoiler alert: he has a spectacular cock too.

And I’m watching it, still hard, bouncing slightly as he walks toward me, thinking I really didn’t get to spend enough quality time with it.

“You keep looking at me like that,” he growls, “and we won’t be going down to breakfast, princess. We’ll be up here, making enough noise that my entire family knows what we’re up to.”

My lips part on a shaky exhale.

Oh.

I mean…that wouldn’t be the worst?

“Scratch that,” he mutters. “You won’t be making much noise because my dick will be in your mouth.”

I just had an orgasm.

Now I want another one.

Almost as much as I want Ace’s cock deep down my throat.

“Fuck.”

“What?” I whisper.