Still Falling (Falling Series Book 2)

by Lucia Grace

  “Your greedy pussy doesn’t want to let my cock go, baby. It sucks me back in any time I try to pull out,” he grits out between his clenched teeth.

  I can’t find it in me to be embarrassed by his dirty talk. Not with him leisurely sliding in and out of me.

  He stares into my eyes that I haven’t been able to take off of his face. My hands roam the expanse of his back and shoulders and grip behind his neck. I need to make sure I’m not dreaming—need to make sure that this is real.

  A look crosses over his face. He picks up his pace as his lips pinch tight and he furrows his brow.

  “You feel this? You feel what you do to me? How hard you make me?” His hips piston into me now. Almost like he’s angry. His hands move from my thighs to my breasts. Squeezing them. Pinching my nipples.

  Oh dear God.

  I nod my head a couple of times, but drop it back to the pillow below as his hands drop again and he tilts my hips up. Gripping them hard enough that I’m sure he’ll leave fingerprints. Nudging the head of his cock against my cervix. Pounding into me. A delicious, pleasurable pain spreading through me.

  I didn’t get to look at him before he slid into me. But from the biting pain as he inched in, to the fullness I feel now, I know he’s huge. Not that I have anything to compare him to personally. But from what I’ve heard from Ember and Sam, I know he has to be above average.

  “Do you get it now, sweetheart? I see you, Ace. I know you.” His words melt my heart. Making me think that maybe I haven’t been alone in my feelings all these years.

  I gasp through a sudden orgasm when Damon lowers a hand between us and his thumb finds my slick bundle of nerves. Circling with precision. Drowning me in euphoria. Claiming my heart for good.

  “That’s right, baby. Come for me. Drench my cock. Let that sweet pussy take me over with you.” He finishes on a groan as my orgasm triggers his.

  He pumps two, three more times before he stills and roars through his own ecstasy.

  “Fuck,” he mutters as he collapses to his elbows to keep most of his weight off of me. “I’ve never come so hard in my life,” he huffs out.

  Chest heaving against mine.

  As the lust-filled haze starts to dissipate around us, my nerves start to kick into overdrive. The anxiety over what I didn’t tell him and what we’ve done.

  He places a soft kiss to my cheek as he slides out of me. I wince and he apologizes.

  As he shifts to move off the bed he looks down to my most intimate part. “Watching my cum, watching us, drip from your pretty pussy is a sight I will never forget,” he utters quietly, almost sounding as if he’s in awe.

  His right hand lowers to spread our mixed arousal into my thighs. Marking me.

  Then he tenses. His shoulders visibly lock and his jaw tics.

  I look down. Oh no.

  “Tracey.”

  My name. He only calls me by my given name when he’s making a point.

  Or when he’s angry.

  There’s blood. Not a lot, but enough to tell him what I should have mentioned before, when he asked me to take his hand.

  Shame rolls over me. Washing away all the euphoria I felt just minutes ago.

  “Damon, I can explain.”

  “You can explain? What the fuck is this, Tracey?” His voice is eerily calm. Menacing. “What the fuck do you need to explain? Please tell me that you were not a fucking virgin, and that I didn’t just take your fucking virginity?”

  And there it is.

  His voice is tight, like he had to force the words out, but his tone is one of shock and disbelief.

  Is it because I’m a twenty-one-year-old virgin or is it because he just took such a vital part of me?

  I steel my resolve as I reply, “I’m sorry, but you didn’t even ask. You just—”

  “Didn’t fucking ask?” he yells as he jumps off the bed and steps into his boxer briefs hurriedly. “What the fuck, Tracey? You’re twenty-one years old.” There’s the disbelief again but mixed with a heap of anger. He runs his hand over his buzzed head and grips the back of his neck. Staring at me.

  I look anywhere but at him. His disbelieving gaze. His face taut with anger.

  “You let me fuck you bare, and Christ you’re a goddamn virgin!”

  I flinch. “Can you please stop saying that word?” I cringe every time he does.

  “Stop saying it… Jesus fucking Christ, Tracey, why would I when you were? I cannot fucking believe this.” He starts pacing the space in front of the bed.

  I get up, sheet wrapped around me, and inch over to grab my dress. As I bend down to retrieve the pale pink garment I hear Damon muttering to himself. I can’t make out what he’s saying. But I know it can’t be good.

  I should have known better.

  I spin around as he brings his hands to the top of his head and tips it back.

  Dropping the sheet I step into my dress quickly, not caring about my undergarments or the stickiness between my thighs at this point.

  When I spin back around, carefully, he’s staring at me. In anger and awe. Mixed with a little…wonder?

  I stare back at him in shame and longing. I regret not telling him, but I don’t regret it happening. Losing my virginity and myself in Damon is the greatest pleasure I know I’ll ever feel. Because I’ve loved him for as long as I can remember.

  As tears build in my eyes and my breath hitches, Damon snaps out of his stupor and rage consumes him yet again.

  He takes a step toward me so only a foot separates us. His jaw is tight, his eyes heated.

  “You let me fuck you, Tracey. You let me fuck you bare. And you were a virgin.” He sneers the last word as if it left a terrible taste in his mouth. “Why the fuck would you lie to me? Not tell me? The way I handled you, pounded into you… Jesus Christ.”

  I wince and let the tears I was holding fall.

  “What the fuck were you thinking? Huh? I don’t even know who you are right now. Treating yourself so fucking carelessly.”

  And there goes my heart. It shatters. Along with any ideas I had of Damon and I actually being able to work.

  “I—I was going to tell you when we came up here. But you never asked and—”

  “But nothing, Tracey. You should have fucking told me. I would have never touched you if I had known!”

  And he just confirmed my greatest fear. That if I had told him, if he knew about me still being a virgin, that tonight never would have happened. I was caught up in the moment, in finally getting Damon like all the others do. And for just one night, I wanted to know what it was like to be his. To be touched by him. The man I’ve loved almost my whole life. But deep down I know I didn’t say a thing because of what he just confirmed.

  With that final blow I don’t even think, I just erupt. “Fuck you, Damon!”

  Then I rush out of his hotel room. Tears streaming down my face.

  We went from passionate to angry in the blink of an eye. Our moans of pleasure to shouts of anger.

  How could I have been such a fool?

  I just gave in so easily.

  He was just so tender. So loving. He made it seem like he meant it. Like tonight meant something. Like this could be something more even if he said it would only be one night. I really thought this could be it. That tonight could be the turning point for Damon and me.

  I should have known better.

  I know I should have told him I was a virgin. That I should have divulged that information as soon as he demanded I take his hand. But I just couldn’t. Embarrassment and excitement invaded my senses, clouding my judgment. I just couldn’t tell him or tell him no. So I took his hand and committed to this one night with him.

  But now, after everything he just said to me, I’m almost wishing that I hadn’t.

  Almost three weeks later

  My wrapped fists pound the heavy bag as I circle it. Random combinations slamming against the canvas. The chain rattling and clanging over the heavy beats of “Beast” from the Southpaw soundtrack
blares through the gym. Blow after blow meant to release the tension from the last couple of weeks, the filth from my past, the feelings swirling through my veins. No matter how long I stand here, throwing punch after jab after punch, nothing relieves the anger, the rage, the despair.

  Nothing.

  And I can still feel her. Almost a month later and I can still fucking feel her.

  All of her.

  Her lush lips, her tentative hands, her perfect fucking ass, hips, and thighs beneath my calloused palms.

  The softness of her skin against mine, the silk of her hair in my hands.

  Her tight as fuck virgin heat wrapped like a vice around my bare dick. A fucking virgin.

  I clench my jaw so tightly I’m surprised my teeth don’t crack in half.

  When I looked down, admiring us spilling out of her gorgeous pussy, then saw the blood mixed in, I couldn’t fucking believe it. I knew instantly. I fucking knew that I had just taken her fucking innocence like a fucking animal.

  She deserved so much more than what I gave her that night. After sliding into her heat inch by agonizing inch I let go, pounding into her like a man possessed. And I was. By that magic fucking pussy of hers.

  Despite her lie of omission by not telling me about her virginity, it still didn’t warrant my harsh reaction. I lost my fucking mind. My shock and anger mixing for an explosive combination. I don’t even remember what I said. But that is no excuse for reacting the way I did. She deserved better than that. She deserves better than that.

  Especially from me.

  Watching her run out of my hotel room, tears streaming down her face, my heart split in two and felt like it was ripped from my motherfucking chest.

  Seeing her pain, a pain that I caused, absolutely fucking gutted me.

  But fuck, a virgin? Why would she let me just take her like that? After I told her that it was just one night.

  Because she’s in love with you, asshole.

  If it isn’t her heated gasps of pleasure and breathless moans ringing through my ears, or the fight that followed, then it’s the filth of my past invading my mind. Reminding me of why I’m never going to be good enough.

  Not for her.

  “Figured you’d be here.” Kayson’s voice breaks my rhythm. I lean against the still swaying bag.

  Breathing heavily I reply, “What are you doing here?”

  He shrugs when I look over. “Called your cell, and when you didn’t answer I called the station.”

  Sweat pours down my bare chest and soaks through my low hanging basketball shorts. “Did you need something?”

  “Actually, I wanted to know what you were doing this weekend. Wasn’t sure if you’re on duty or not.”

  “I work a half shift on Saturday morning since I traded with Spinelli last week. So my shift ends by early afternoon. Why?” I reply, as I wipe the sweat dripping from my brow into my eyes.

  “Ember wanted me to check with you to see if you’d be free to help us move into our new place. She said we could use the extra muscle.”

  Fucker knows I can’t say no to Ember. “Yeah, you know I will.” He nods his head in thanks. “And you know she meant she could use the muscle, right?” I ask as I flex my arm. “She didn’t mean extra since we know I could kick your ass any day. It’s a damn shame she needs to ask a real man to help her out,” I tack on with a straight face.

  “Fuck you, Dame. My wife has all the man she needs right here.”

  He glares and puffs out his chest as I huff out a laugh. Kase always gets so damn testy when anyone brings up his woman. Whipped.

  As my laughter dies down and his glare turns neutral, he looks like he wants to say something else. Call me out on something, but I’m not in the mood. So I cut him off before he can get another word out. “Spar with me?” I ask when I notice he’s in his workout gear.

  With a nod he pulls his T-shirt off then tosses it to the side along with my discarded tank.

  We walk over to the boxing ring in the corner of the gym, side-by-side. I hop up and slide through the ropes and grab my sparring gloves as he grabs the focus mitts hanging off the corner post.

  I bounce on my toes and stretch out my arms before securing my gloves as Kayson joins me in the middle of the canvas.

  He lifts his hands without a word, and lets me unleash combo after combo of punches and jabs. Uppercuts and hooks and cross body punches. He lets me pound out the last month of bullshit running through my head while quieting the demons from my past that plague me daily.

  When I lay out my last combo, Kayson drops his padded hands and wipes his brow as I grab my water bottle from the stool in my corner.

  “What the fuck has you so wound up, man?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t fucking lie to me. You almost broke my fucking hands with how hard you were pounding at these pads,” he replies as he lifts the focus mitts and slaps them together. “So don’t fucking tell me it’s nothing. What’s going on? Does it have to do with Tracey?”

  I spin from the corner to face him. My eyes hard as steel.

  “I don’t want to fucking talk about this shit, Kayson,” I growl. Then rip my right glove off with my teeth before pulling the left off and slamming the gloves down to the mat at my feet.

  “I know something happened between you two, Dame. Even though Em and I were gone the last two weeks doesn’t mean we haven’t noticed that shit is off. You both declined our dinner invitation the other day, with weak-ass excuses. The girls said they couldn’t get you two out together to save their lives. So what the fuck happened?”

  “Lay—the fuck—off.”

  I duck out between the ropes then jump down and head toward the showers. My feet pounding the concrete floor below me.

  “You know you can’t hide from me forever, asshole,” he shouts after me, never moving from his place in the middle of the boxing ring. The gym is now quiet. “And don’t fucking forget about this weekend. Ember’s counting on you to help out.”

  I just shake my head and flip him off before taking the right into the locker room, effectively ending all conversation. Fucker knows I’ll be there this weekend since Ember asked. He just has to make sure he gets the last word in.

  As the door slams shut behind me, I strip out of my sweat-soaked gym shorts and head straight for the shower. I step under the showerhead before the water can warm up. The blast of cold calming the rage boiling inside of me.

  When the water turns hot I groan in appreciation. The heat loosening my tightening muscles.

  After I shower and get dressed, I gather my shit, leave the gym, and head to my truck. Thankfully, Kayson got the fuck out of there before I laid his ass out for bringing shit up he had no right bringing up. Fucker doesn’t know anything that has to do with Ace, and I want to keep it that way.

  She’s my business and my business only.

  I get his confusion on why I’ve been so hung up these last few weeks. I never let on to how well I knew Ace, even though he knew we were neighbors growing up, and I sure as shit didn’t let him know about my feelings for her. Like most things, I keep my shit close and to myself. But his confusion gives him no fucking right to pry.

  I always stayed out of his shit. Past and present. He can offer the same fucking courtesy.

  Before I know it I’m driving down main street, inching by the Coffee Press, the café Ace and her family own together. Debating whether I should stop in and finally talk to her. Clear the air, exchange apologies that we both deserve.

  What the fuck would I say though? We can’t very well discuss me popping her cherry next to the fucking pastry case.

  I shake my head at the absurdity of this fucking situation. I’m a grown man, a damn police officer, and I can’t even find the balls to talk to a girl that I’ve known most of my life.

  Fucking pathetic.

  As I’m driving my truck past the last shop window, I catch sight of Ace. She’s wiping down the bar that lines the front.

  The Coffee Press sits
at the corner of main street and Thornton Avenue, so as I stop at the four-way intersection, waiting for my turn to go, I sit and take in Ace. My truck sitting idle right in front of her, but she doesn’t notice. She looks sad and almost lost. Her long hair tied on top of her head in a messy knot that reveals her delicate neck. Her face makeup free, revealing the spattering of freckles I know are there. Knowing I most likely have something to do with that look on her face causes an ache in my chest. It grips me suddenly, stealing my breath.

  It’s almost strong enough to have me changing my mind, parking my truck, and walking my ass in there to hash this shit out.

  Almost.

  But fuck it. I may have had a few weeks to get over what happened that night, but she’s had the same amount of time.

  I may have been harsh, but she lied to me. She kept shit from me.

  Knowing I’m the only man to have taken her that way may make me want to pound my chest like a feral beast, but knowing she kept that from me makes me feel two feet tall. Because she didn’t trust me with that.

  I told her I wouldn’t have taken her that night if I knew, but that’s fucking bullshit. I can admit that. I was so far gone that nothing would have stopped me.

  Ace is absolutely everything I could ever want but can never have. She’s burrowed herself deep. In my head and in my heart. But none of that matters. Even now. Even though I can still taste her, still feel her.

  None of it matters.

  A honk sounding off behind me has me snapping out of my thoughts and putting my foot to the accelerator. Leaving Ace and my hopes behind.

  I drive the not even ten minutes to my ranch-styled house, pull into the attached garage, and kill the engine.

  Images of my past, present, and all the years in-between filter through my mind in the quiet cab of my truck, and before I know it I’m slamming my balled fists into the steering wheel.

  Chest heaving. Heart aching. Mind racing.

  Fuck.

  Music. I need music.

  With that thought I grab my shit from the passenger side seat, jump out of my truck, slam the door, then make my way around the hood to get into my house.