The Club: Ace

by Jenna Elliot

  Maybe this wasn’t such a hot idea after all.

  “You were an adorable kid.” She smiles. “Your family?”

  “Yes.”

  Still swirling her glass, she examines the photos, and that soft smile plays around her mouth, thoughtful. She told me she wanted eight kids. A babe who likes wine and family and sex clubs. Quite a combination. I get two out of three, which is something, I guess.

  “Are there more recent photos?” she asks softly, turning to me, finally taking a sip and gazing over her wineglass straight into my eyes.

  No one has ever noticed how old those photos are. Or asked about them.

  “Not here.” I end this line of questioning.

  Let her think they’re at another of my homes, or whatever. I don’t want to have this discussion, so I distract her with technology. A push of a button, and the blinds raise, the lights dim, and music flows through the speakers.

  Then, showcased through floor-to ceiling glass windows, the South Beach skyline twinkles.

  But Emme’s not interested in the view. “You only keep old family photos here? Is there something significant about that?”

  Very significant. Why wouldn’t a normal person keep recent family photos around? To someone who doesn’t know me, it’s a reasonable question. Two things about that strike me almost simultaneously.

  Emme wants to know me better, and I’m not a normal person. Not even close. I’ve blurred some lines here, and as a result of my carelessness, my laziness, my neediness . . . I don’t really know what, I’ve invited her curiosity about me.

  One innocent question propels us from strictly sex to uncomfortably personal. From safety to the red zone. I know better than this. I’ve played the game my whole adult life, but as I stare into her face, expression wanting and curious, growing more curious as each second passes, I feel something unfamiliar. An emptiness inside, something I’ve never felt before.

  Suddenly, I want to see her reaction, feel a connection that’ll blur the lines even more, fill up some of this gnawing emptiness inside me.

  I don’t question the impulse. I don’t think. I just open my mouth. “They died.”

  Her beautiful face is a mirror. And to a woman who values family as much as this one does, my admission appears to be a knife wound.

  “Ace.” She breathes my name out on a soft sigh. “A long time ago?”

  I nod.

  She wants details, wants to understand. It’s all over her expression. All over the stricken look that melts her beautiful eyes, tightens her soft mouth.

  But her curiosity comes from someplace I barely recognize, a place I definitely don’t understand. She’s more concerned about hurting me than her own curiosity.

  “I’m so grateful you have all these photos,” she says softly. “Looks like there’s a lot of love immortalized here.”

  Yes, my parents loved me. No question. But loving me can have unfortunate consequences, as they learned the hard way.

  That thought snaps me back to reality.

  “Come on.” Taking her hand, I draw Emme out onto my deck, needing air, needing the sea breeze to purge this unfamiliar feeling from inside me, a feeling I have no name for, but one that leaves me strangely defenseless. Against what exactly, I don’t know. The past is the past. I’ve lived with it for too long not to be immune. “This view is what convinced me to buy this location.”

  Emme eyes me with a look that suggests she knows this was nothing more than smoke for a subject I avoid. But she lets the matter drop. The perfect sub both in bed and out.

  She just passed a test I didn’t even know was on the agenda tonight. An important test.

  She considers the view with the same thoroughness that she had my old family photos. As if she’s trying to understand me in everything she sees.

  I watch her and wonder what it is about her that tugs at me in places I don’t usually notice. She’s lovely, yes, but my fascination goes beyond the creamy skin and shapely tits. And the freckles. Why do I always notice the freckles?

  Something inside her glows like a beacon through shadow. It’s impossible not to be drawn to that light.

  “The view is really amazing,” she finally says. “I smell the ocean and hear the waves breaking.”

  She notices the rooftop lap pool set in imported Italian travertine tile, the onyx Jacuzzi, the inviting canopied bed in a corner. “You sleep out here?”

  “Sometimes.” On nights when the walls close in on me.

  Spreading her arms wide, she spins around, gazing up at the stars. “Sir, you are one lucky son-of-a-bitch, if you don’t mind me saying.”

  “And I’m about to get even luckier.”

  At my words, she stops spinning in front of me, puts a hand on my shoulder to steady herself. Her touch is light, as light as everything else about her. The softness. The kind heart that makes her so perceptive to my moods. Her fingers graze my shoulder, my arm, moving slowly, seductively.

  I’m hard, so hard, and I know right there that her virgin ass may have to wait. Yet again, I’m thinking I may have to take the edge off first. Because with all the blood in my body focused in my dick, it’s difficult to think about more than ramming myself into her. The absolute opposite of the slow, deliberate fucking she’ll need to give me her ass virginity. My dick swells heavily and my nuts tighten at the thought of easing inside that tight ass of hers.

  I swallow hard as she sways her hips to the music, so reminiscent of her performance earlier. Her tits rise and fall with the fluid motion, and she never stops moving as she sips her wine then sets the glass aside. “Dance with me?”

  There’s something in her voice, not need exactly, but a breathless sense of wonder. She’s caught up in the night, the magic of the view, the sea breeze that raises goose bumps over her skin. She wants to take me with her. I would never say no. Not when she glides into me, pressing her nude curves so close I wish my clothes would evaporate so I can feel every inch of her sleek skin against mine.

  I let the remnants of a past I can’t change dispel on a heavy breath and step back onto familiar ground.

  Sex. My drug of choice.

  Tucking her head under my chin, she wraps her arms around my waist and holds me close. I breathe in the scent of her hair and cuddle her against my chest. We sway together, holding onto each another as if we’re no more than two lovers dancing in the moonlight.

  Her heart beats so fast. In time with mine.

  She’s so lovely. So willing. Decadent.

  She’s touching me in places that haven’t been touched. Sliding under my skin. Making me feel . . . too much.

  “Enough.” I step out of her arms, reach for my glass, and toss back the rest of my drink. The burn doesn’t do a damned thing to distract me. I don’t know why I’m struggling tonight. Not sure why she gets under my skin in a way that distracts me from my comfort zone.

  There’s only one thing to do . . .

  Swinging Emme into my arms, I lift her up and carry her to bed. She flings an arm around my neck, snuggles close.

  But I don’t want close. I want exactly the opposite. I want distance, distraction. I want fucking. A familiar place where I have all the control. Not to be confused with the sort of intimacy of lovers. Lovemaking.

  No. I want to be consumed by the fire in my dick as I plunge into all her soft places.

  I toss her onto the bed, and divert myself with the glimpses of sleek thigh and pussy as she scoots over to make room for me. Oh, yeah. All her soft places.

  I want the thrill of the chase and all the control.

  “Ever done any fantasy play?” I don’t join her.

  She just shakes her head, her mouth forming an unhappy pout as she draws her legs up underneath her.

  More firsts. Perfect. “You have code words.”

  “I know. What do you want?” She pats the bed again, urging me closer.

  But that’s not my mood. “To see how well you act. Pretend you’re a virgin, and you’re afraid of me.”


  She lifts an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

  I go for my zipper and launch right in. “I’m dead serious, little miss innocent. See this?” I unleash the erection that has been straining against the seam of my pants all goddamned night. I give it a long stroke, practically growling at the relief to be freed from constraint, to feel the air conditioning glaze my hot skin and make my balls pucker. “I’m going to ram this into your tight wet pussy and fuck you until you beg to come.”

  Her eyes rivet on my dick, and she swallows hard. But that one moment of surprise is all it takes. Emme of the amazing potential is totally game. Before I drop my pants to the floor, she scampers back on the bed.

  “That thing between your legs is way too big for me. It won’t fit. Don’t touch me. Please.” She begs prettily, but I hear her excitement.

  “No, baby. It’s going to feel good, like nothing you’ve felt before.”

  She grabs a pillow, holds it in front of her like a shield. “No, you’ll hurt me. Please. I can’t have all of you inside—” Taking me by surprise, she flings the pillow at my face, rolls over the side of the bed in one slick move, and gains her feet.

  Takes me a second to kick off my shoes and lose the pants before I go after her. By then, she races across the patio.

  I enjoy the sight of her bare legs churning, her tits bouncing, her ass wiggling.

  With a chuckle, I rip the shirt over my head and toss it away. I chase her, careful not to catch her too soon. She reaches the patio doors, flings one wide and heads inside.

  The penthouse is large, but whichever way she goes, she won’t get far. She races across the living area and skids into the kitchen, a glorious sight with her hair whipping out behind her, muscles flexing in those long, long legs.

  “No way, sir.” She plucks a banana from a fruit bowl. “Maybe if you were this size.” She throws the banana in my direction, and it hits my shoulder with a plunk as I circle the counter and get her within reach.

  I laugh, glad she didn’t toss an apple at my head, or my balls. Even in play, she looks out for me, wants to please.

  My arm shoots out, and I think I have her, but she ducks and scrambles away, slipping on the slick floor.

  “If you keep running, you’ll be sorry.”

  “If I stop, I’ll be sorry.” She takes a corner and speeds down the hall.

  My blood pumps now. The chase distracts me, entertains me, arouses me with the thought of sinking my meat deep inside her wet heat. “When I catch you, I’m going to hold you down, pump into you without mercy.”

  She tosses a mock-frightened look over her shoulder and her speed slows the tiniest bit as if she wants to be caught, then she ducks into a spare bedroom. I know the layout, and there’s only one other way out, through the Jack and Jill bath. I circle around and prepare to catch my prey. I may bend her over the vanity and sink into her from behind with my hands on her tits—

  She runs right into me. For one blissful second, skin collides with skin. My balls pucker as my dick slaps her thigh. She lets out a scream, and twists around to bolt back into the bathroom, but I’m not playing anymore.

  This game has run its course. I’m ready to fuck. I want to feel her wet and compliant under me.

  I snake my arms around her. She squeals and doesn’t stop writhing.

  “No, no, no, no, no, no!”

  But no isn’t Code Red. She’s still playing, even if she hasn’t yet figured out that I’m done playing now. And all her squirming brings that luscious body against me in all the right places. Her hair whips into my mouth, and her nipples graze my chest. When her twisting nearly rips my dick off at the root, I toss her over my shoulder. She wriggles and I clamp one forearm over the back of her thighs.

  She bites my back, pounds me with her fists, still squirming, still filling my awareness with the smell of her skin and the way her tits crush against my back. I could graze my palm over her pussy and make her come right now.

  I smack her ass instead. “Ow.”

  “I told you not to run away.” I smack her again, a satisfying smack echoing over the piped-in music.

  “Ow, ow, ow. That hurts! Please, you’re frightening me.”

  She’s not in the least bit afraid. In fact, I can smell her sweet pussy, and that makes me slap her good. But like an award-winning actress, she protests every slap as I march her through the living room.

  “It hurts.” Her voice is pouty.

  Slap.

  She pounds on my back some more. “Don’t.”

  Slap.

  “Just put me down, sir. I won’t run away again. I promise. I’ll give you whatever you want,” she pleads breathlessly, and when I get her back to the patio, I lower her to her feet.

  I’m going to fuck her out here with the sea breeze blowing and the salt air making our skin stick together. But the minute her toes touch the floor, she bolts again.

  The little liar.

  I roar; blasted by such conflicting reactions that I don’t exactly know what I feel. Surprised, definitely. And annoyed I’m not inside her yet, but challenged, too.

  I enjoy the chase.

  Much better than closeness. So much better than thinking about being lovers.

  I watch her zig through the doorway and zag toward the master suite. She rushes through the double doors. I know the floor plan, and she doesn’t. I race through the doors after her and throw the lock behind us.

  “Now you’re trapped, sweet thing.” I see her crouched behind a leather recliner, all pale knees and elbows as she tries to curl into herself, as if I won’t notice.

  “If you come out right now, sweet thing, I’ll take your virginity slow and easy. I won’t hurt you.”

  “No.” More defiance.

  I step closer. She pops up onto her feet, a majestic display of unfolding muscle. She spreads her hands in entreaty. “Please, sir, I like you. I really do. I just think your cock is too big for me. Will you let me suck it instead? I’ll give you a blow job, and you can come all over me.”

  “Tempting.” I laugh. “But no dice. I want to sink my dick deep inside you, babe, and pound you until you scream my name.”

  “Ooooh,” she lets out a squeal and bolts again.

  I lunge and grab at her arm, but she breaks away, jumps around the chair, scampers over the bed. I didn’t count on such skill at getting away in close quarters. Who the hell has she honed this unusual skill with? I don’t get a chance to ask because, with a giggle, she dives under the covers and pulls them over her head.

  Like that will save her. I pounce onto the bed, but she just rolls out from underneath the comforter and hits the ground running. I get up and catch up to her before she makes the door.

  This time I grab her as she tries to slither over the arm of the couch. I don’t let go. She thrashes, but she’s careful not to hit me. I bend her over the arm of the couch, so her face rests against the cushion and her ass is in the air. A delectable sight with her cheeks spread wide and all her wet places peeking at me.

  I hold her down with my forearm pressed into the small of her back, while I pull on a condom.

  She still tries to wiggle out from under me, kicking her legs vainly until I use my body to hold her still, leaning over and trapping her with my weight.

  Managing to close her thighs tight, she still pretends to fight, playacting to please me. I lightly bite her neck and wedge my hands under her until I grab her breasts. I rock my hips and press her into the soft leather, smiling when she responds by squirming against me some more. She’s excited. I feel her flushed skin, and the scent of her arousal is intoxicating.

  God, I have to have her. I spread her feet with my own.

  She pants hard. “Sir. I’m so scared.”

  She’s too much to resist. I pull on her nipples, and position my dick against her lips. She is so soft. So wet. Her pussy is like oiled satin.

  “No. No. No.” She mock screams.

  But the way she grinds back against my dick says, “Yes, yes, yes.” Whe
n she sucks in the head of my dick a little more, trying to control where I go, I realize she might be legitimately worried I’m going to fuck her virgin ass right now.

  Sweet thing doesn’t call out the code word, though. She’s all about submission as she arches enough to press her breasts into my hands, and I oblige, giving her nipples another hard squeeze. Her whole body shudders. I bite her earlobe, easing my dick in a little more, feeling her pussy stretch around me.

  “You want my dick inside your sweet pussy,” I say to reassure her. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

  “No, sir. Don’t. No. I don’t. I’ve never had a man.” She pants, screams. Writhes. A wild woman.

  I ram my dick inside her. For a stunned moment, I can only absorb the feel of her welcoming softness, can’t move until the first wave of exhilaration passes. I’m so turned on, I don’t trust myself not to get too rough in my need.

  My whole body shudders with the effort, and when I manage the sensation, I pull out and plunge back in, my balls slapping her skin with a smacking sound. She’s so in to it, she forgets to keep screaming. She clenches her fingers into fists and raises her ass so I pound in deeper. With every thrust, she makes a little cooing sound, a sigh that is all excitement and pleasure.

  Her arousal spurs my arousal, and I can’t help but rip loose. I hold her down, thrusting in then pulling out, a rhythm that matches the crescendo of her rocking hips. I keep fingering her tits and bury my face in her hair.

  Everything in me coils tight, so tense, and I can’t hold back the eruption. “Cum with Emme. Now. Now. Now.”

  I slam into her, and she arches her back, whips her head from side to side. Her hands clench the cushion. She screams.

  And I explode. And explode.

  13

  Emme

  OMG. WHAT IS IT about Ace and his games that arouse me so much? Make me want to please him so he’ll please me?

  If the couch didn’t support me right now, I’d be a puddle on the floor. My world has narrowed to the feel of his weight against me, the hard thighs pinning mine under him. The erection that still fills me so completely. I can barely think of anything but the way he fills me, up . . . physically. Emotionally?