by Frankie Love
My mind is already spinning with possibilities. I can turn off her mind all right. I can also take her far away, somewhere exotic and romantic. Palm Springs or Napa or the fucking Caribbean. I can take her away from everything.
“I can do that,” I tell her.
“Good. Because I’ve never even spent time with a non-stressed Emmy. She moved here in crisis-mode, and that hasn’t changed for two months.”
“Well, now she has me.”
“You good with relationships, Ace?”
I pause, knowing I don’t do long-term anything. I do hook-ups and hallways and hope I remember the girl’s name.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I just don’t want you to fuck this up,” Claire says, her tone genuine. “Emmy has been through enough already.”
“I won’t, Claire. I promise.”
I end the call, swearing to myself and to God and to my mother’s grave that I’ll make good on this promise with Emmy.
I won’t ruin this.
Dialing Denise, I tell her the plans I need made.
Get the helicopter ready for a morning takeoff.
Reservations at Bon-Air, the luxury spa resort in the Arizona desert.
I’ll take her away to a relaxing weekend at one of the most exclusive resorts in the world.
I smile, knowing she is going to be blown away with what I can offer her.
I check on Emmy in the bathroom, and I’m glad she’s made it to the shower. I see her silhouette behind fogged glass and realize it’s the first time a woman has ever been in this space.
“Ace?” she asks, rubbing away a circle of fog from the heavy glass door.
Her eyes graze over me, and heat runs through me, all the way to my growing cock, as my eyes meet hers.
I’m in such close proximity to the woman I love. She’s naked and she’s alone and I just want her with me. To be with her.
“You okay?” I ask, for what seems the like the thousandth time today. Have I asked her anything else? And why is it so damn hard for me to say anything more?
“Come in here.”
I blink slowly, feel my chest expand.
Emmy Rose has my fucking heart.
I take off my pants, unbutton my shirt, strip quickly. I don’t want to be standing out here alone on this marble floor; I want to be with her.
I pull open the glass door, and enter the shower built for four. The showerheads pour water down over Emmy, who stands in the center. Her long brown hair covers her breasts, as beads of water soak her, causing her skin to glisten, nice and slick.
I want to run my hands all over her, I want her to wrap her legs around my waist. I want her here, now. I want her forever.
“You are so beautiful,” I tell her. I’m still shocked to be here with her. To have found a woman so unexpectedly. So perfect. Perfect for me.
“Oh, shush, Ace,” she says, raising her face to a softly pouring showerhead. As she does, water pours over her face; her back arches, her tits ready to be devoured.
“You looked so unraveled at the hospital,” I say stepping toward her, my rod growing stiff as I take in more of her body.
“I was. I am.” She turns from me, grabbing a bar of soap. I move behind her, wrap my arms around her waist. Being close to her feels so right, so new.
“Are you always this broken?” I ask her, worried about her ability to keep her shit together if everything weighs so heavy on her. I want to make her life easy. I want to take away her fucking burdens. I just need to know what she needs.
She doesn’t say yes, but she also doesn’t say no. All I get is an Emmy Rose sigh. A sound that feels an awful lot like defeat.
“Ace, I told you this was a bad time for me ... but the truth is, there will never be a good time. I’m the sort of girl who will always have issues. A past. A present. And none of it will be clean lines and straight strokes.”
I wrap my arm around her. Reaching for her face, I cup her cheek with my hand. Force her to look over her shoulder and see my eyes.
She drops the soap to the floor.
“I’m not scared of your raw edges, Emmy,” I tell her, turning her body to face mine. As she’s wrapped in my arms under the gentle water, I swear she knows I will never let her go. “I’m not scared of someone with rough patches and stitched-together stories, of someone used to living in the fucking fray.”
“Stop talking like that,” she tells me, her face burrowed in the crevice of my shoulder, resting against the barrels of the guns tattooed on my body.
“Like what?”
“Like you know me. Like you get me.” Emmy’s arms wrap around my neck, holding on for dear life. “Like you won’t leave.”
“Maybe it’s fucking time to let someone stay.”
EMMY
He told me he loves me yesterday and he shows me he loves tonight.
His cock is amazing, his body a fucking rock. But the thing that brings me to the edge, to the place I wondered if I could ever let myself go, is his words.
Ace might be a lot of things—the son of a mafia boss and the owner of a casino, the most eligible bachelor in Vegas and friends with some of the most famous men in the city—but he isn’t a liar.
I thought he might be, when we first met ... when I thought he might be the Bullet my sister had been texting. But there was a legit reason they had spoke, and he was honest and forthright about all of it. About his relationship with Janie.
And Grotto is the man being questioned by the cops, not Ace.
Ace swore his innocence, and I have no reason to think he’s lied to me.
And the thing is, I want to believe he’s innocent. I want to believe the words he whispers in my ears. I want promises of forever, because they are something no one has ever offered me.
“Where did you come from, Ace?” I ask, as he runs his hand down my back, over my ass, then toward my front.
His hand presses against my opening, and warmth washes over me. I feel myself melting into to him as he glides one finger over the length of my pussy, teasing at the entrance, not going in.
“I came from an ugly place, Rose. A place too dark for you.” He kisses my shoulder, my neck, tickling at my ear as his breath intensifies.
“Try me, Ace,” I say, shifting my legs apart a bit more so he knows I want his fingers in my folds, want him to make me drip like he has done before.
“Baby, I come from the motherfucking place Godfather was invented. None of it was pretty. None of it was good.”
“Okay,” I say, knowing Ace has edges that are rough too, a past that has formed his present. “Anything good about that place? Anything at all?”
His fingers no longer graze my opening; they ease their way in, and I greedily lift my leg and rest it on the tiled bench.
He smiles at this, liking the way I am presenting my pussy to him.
“You really want me to talk about my ma when I’m getting ready to finger fuck the hell out of you?”
I laugh. “You are so filthy. Like, the filthiest.”
“You haven’t been with a bad boy before?”
“Ace, I’ve only ever been with bad boys.” I say, shaking my head, then biting my lip, because he is starting to get me going with his hand. I move my hand to his thick cock, wanting to share the love. “But not your kind of bad boy ... this glamorous, loaded kind. I grew up in a place that is a different kind of dirty than you. You may have had the real Boss as your father ... but you had money and connections. I had welfare checks and CPS calls. I had the kind of dirty that destroys a person.”
“Oh, baby,” Ace says, smacking my ass and pulling me to him. “I think we’re just wrecked in different ways.”
“You swear to God you won’t break me, Ace?” I ask, my eyes searing into his. Needing him to not look away. Needing him to stop with the fucking for just a second and tell me the truth.
“I won’t break you,” he says, the timber of his voice so sure, so solid. “Emmy Rose, I will help pick up your pieces.”
>
We don’t fuck in the shower. Instead he washes my hair and washes my back and kisses my lips and cheeks and nose. He kisses my shoulders. My nipples. He gets on his knees and kisses my stomach and holds me at my waist while I run my hands through his dark hair.
I wash his ass and his solid chest. I wash his cock, all the while making promises I intend to keep.
And he dries me off when we step out of the shower. The heavy towel drapes around me like a blanket and I remember I am in the penthouse of the Spades Royalle, and the man who loves me owns this fucking place, and when did this become my life?
“You okay?” he asks, and then immediately raises his hands to apologize. “Sorry, baby, you just had me so worried when I didn’t hear from you.”
Ace wraps a towel around his waist and I follow him out of the bathroom.
“No worries now,” I say, as he leads me to a gorgeous bedroom. His space is so simple—crisp whites and muted grays, soft blankets and softer lighting. “I mean, Janie woke up. Soon she’ll talk. She can tell me everything I need to know about what was going on leading up to the crash, and our life will be gravy.”
“So you’re close with your sister?” he asks, setting his phone in a docking station. Relaxing music soon fills the room and my shoulders drop.
“Well, not exactly.” I frown. “Okay, not at all. She sort of skipped town after our parents died and has always flitted around ... never came back.”
“So you haven’t seen her in a while?”
“A long while. Years. That’s why I feel like this whole thing is a second chance for us. A second chance for us to be a family.”
Ace looks uncomfortable, pulling back the blankets on his king sized bed.
“What?” I ask, walking to the other side of the bed, wanting to crawl into this inviting space with him. “You think that’s stupid?”
“A second chance at a family? Hell, no. I think that’s amazing. Everything. I’d do anything to have one of my sisters back, to have a chance at a fresh start with them.”
“But they’re gone?” I ask.
“Yup,” he says curtly.
Clearly he wants to get off the topic of his past.
Ace raises his eyes, as if thinking of something entirely different. “Hey, you hungry?”
“I’m literally starving.”
“Literally, huh?”
“Are you one of those people who hates when people say literally wrong?” I ask, cocking an eye at him.
“Is that gonna be a problem?” Ace reaches in his closet for a robe and then hands it to me. “Because I literally hate it.”
“I literally couldn’t care less.” I smile, pulling on the robe, cinching the waist, as Ace slips on a pair of sweats. “What would be a problem,” I add, “is if you aren’t a peanut butter person. Because I want a scoop of peanut butter so bad. Like, so hard.”
“Is that such a thing? An anti-peanut butter person?” Ace asks, incredulous, before a grin spreads on his face.
“Just show me the Jiffy, smart-ass.” I say, smacking his butt as I walk toward the kitchen.
19
ACE
She is not an exaggeration. Not a fling. Not a mistake.
She is everything.
I make us peanut butter and Nutella sandwiches and then grill them on my Panini press.
“Sofrenoood.” Emmy groans in pleasure as she takes another bite
“Come again?”
“So freaking good. Like beyond. Like the best.”
“I know,” I say, realizing that I haven’t felt this relaxed, with my guard down so far, in years. “It’s a sandwich slash dessert. It’s everything.”
I reach for a can of whipped cream in the fridge.
“This makes it even better.”
I spray some of the cream on her piece of sandwich and she takes another bite, groaning in pleasure.
Emmy sits on the kitchen counter, her hair drying, the robe no longer tightly pulled at the waist. She seems so comfortable. So exactly where she should be.
I wrap my arms around her, her legs between mine.
I kiss her chocolatey lips softly. And then again, harder this time, because I just want to devour her. “You feeling better now?”
“I feel like a million bucks.”
“That’s just chump change, baby.”
She smacks me. “Not a good joke. Money stresses me out.
“You’re the one describing yourself with a monetary value,” I point out.
“Shit, you’re right,” she says. “Well, fuck it. I do feel like a million bucks. I feel so good. I think the hospital was slowly killing me, which is actually pretty fucked up.”
“I’m glad being here with me feels right.” My cock grows hard again, and damn, I need to be inside this woman. I push back the robe she wears, and cup her tits, massaging them gently.
Emmy Rose sighs contentedly. Her back arches as she unties the robe completely, letting it fall away. She is naked before me—her soft skin, her curvy body, all of it so perfect.
“This feels so right,” Emmy says, smiling, as I run my hands over her thighs, squeezing them before pushing them farther apart. Her pussy is so sweet and pink, and I get on my knees so I can kiss her folds properly.
After the last twenty-four hours she’s had, she doesn’t need anything rough. She needs to be taken care of.
I can fucking do that.
My tongue flicks across her opening, already loving the sweet juice she releases. Her hands run through my hair again, and I know she loves the way my tongue fucks her, because she pushes my face deeper into her pussy.
I roll around her clit, the perfect little spot that is on fire, nice and round and throbbing. I suck it nice and fast, and Emmy fucking needs this, because she is quickly pouring her pussy juice all over my mouth, her hands grabbing at my hair as she holds on for dear life.
I press in two fingers, loving that I have a woman who gets so wet, so fast. Emmy’s pussy loves to show me what it likes.
And she likes me, a few fingers deep, pressing against her walls, causing her to clench her pussy lips uncontrollably. She rolls her body forward, edging off the counter.
“Ace, I need to have you in me. I need you closer. Take me to bed.”
I stand, picking her up off the counter, her legs wrapped around my waist, my cock nice and hard under her ass. My arms would carry her anywhere, but the fact that the place she wants to be most in the world is in my bed, with me besides her, makes me feel like a fucking man.
Emmy Rose isn’t going anywhere.
I set her on the bed, knowing I’ll call Denise later and cancel my motherfucking plans to the resort. The helicopter ride. Emmy doesn’t want those things. Emmy wants to feel safe, secure, and if that’s already happening in my home, I’m not fucking that up by taking her anywhere else.
I have nothing to prove.
Emmy Rose is kneeling on my bed, her thighs slick with her wetness, her eyes on my cock.
“Lie down, Ace,” she says, and then she jumps off the bed, surprising me. I just carried her in here.
Her eyes dance with excitement, though, and I don’t mind watching her little ass and perfect tits bounce as she runs to the kitchen.
I lie down on a pile of pillows, feeling like a goddamned king.
She comes back in, eyebrows raised seductively.
“I was still a little hungry.” She shakes the can of whipped cream and sprays some in her mouth.
I can’t help but laugh. I did not see that coming.
Emmy gets on the bed, on her knees, and I run my hand over her soft ass. Smack her gently. She giggles, and I love that she isn’t as tense as she was before.
She shakes the can again, hard, and sprays the cream on the tip of my cock like it’s a fucking crown.
And then she bends over and begins licking it all off.
EMMY
Ace has such a massive cock that it might be intimidating for some woman.
But I’m not any woman.
<
br /> I’m realizing that, somewhere in the space of a week, I have become his. His woman.
And I like that.
And not just because of the cock—which, yeah, that is a bonus. But also because he can work me over body and soul.
I spray more of the whipped cream on his ten-inch rod, and run my tongue over all of him as one hand caresses his balls gently. Using my lips, I lightly squeeze his length, then I kiss and lick him, too.
Then I take one ball at a time in my mouth, loving the way it makes my pussy throb as I fill my mouth with him.
He likes it, too, because he lifts my leg over his waist, so I’m straddling him backwards. My ass is in the air as I bend over him, but I don’t care. I know he likes it, by the way he runs his hands over my bottom, down to my pussy.
I take him into my mouth as far as he can go, five inches deep, and I wrap my lips around his shaft nice and tight so no air can escape. I want to suction my mouth to his cock as I suck him off.
I gently move my head up and down as I keep my mouth fixed on him, and I massage his base with my hand as I move.
I love Ace’s cock. I do. When he’s in my mouth, it makes me feel like nothing else matters. Like, he could solve world hunger with this cock. He could bring about world peace.
At the very least, he can make me believe in him. In anything. His cock is the most powerful thing I have ever seen, and I love that I get to lick it and kiss it and suck him off until he comes.
His cock is throbbing now, and I want to taste his come so bad. I want to swallow it and remember it. But I also want his come on my face; I want him to know I want all of him.
I’m not in a place to say I love you—not until things have changed with my sister—but I want Ace to know he can have all the other parts of me.
I climb off him, and take his hands, pulling him to the edge of the bed, his cock so fucking hard and ready. He is smiling, so fucking happy. And I want to make him happier.