by Caitlyn Dare
“Y-yes, anything.”
A wicked smile plays on my lips.
“Make sure you scream my name when you come all over my fingers.”
Her cheeks only get redder at my words, and I love that I can make her blush.
My innocent little princess. The things I have to teach you.
Before she gets a chance to think, I part her lips. “Fuck me,” I groan, finding her soaking wet for me. “You weren’t fucking lying, were you?”
She shakes her head.
Finding her clit, I rub circles around it before pinching down hard. Her lips form an O in shock and her eyes flutter closed. “Eyes on me,” I demand. “You watch me as I do this to you.”
She nods ever so slightly, and one side of my lips tilts up at her compliance.
Slipping my fingers lower, I find her entrance and circle a few times.
“Oh god. Fuck. Ace,” she chants. I can tell she’s desperate to close her eyes, but she follows orders like a good little princess.
Pushing one digit inside her, I bite down on my cheek when I find her incredibly tight. Fuck, how she’ll feel around my cock.
Her body trembles before me as I slide deeper inside her. Mewls and moans of pleasure fall from her lips as her eyelids get heavier, but at no point does she close them.
With my thumb against her clit and two fingers deep inside her, her walls start to ripple as she drips down my hand. “Do you have any idea how wet you are for me right now?”
She shakes her head. She’s so lost to what I’m doing to her, I doubt she even registers my words.
“Your juices are running down my hand.”
“Oh god.”
“It’s. So. Fucking. Hot.”
Bending my fingers, I find the spot that will have her screaming and rub at her relentlessly. A sheen of sweat begins to cover her skin, and unintelligible words and pleas fall from her lips as she races towards orgasm.
It’s fucking hypnotic, watching her fall.
Then, all of a sudden her body quakes and she does exactly as she was told.
“Acccce.” Her scream fills the silent space around us and ensures that anyone who might be in hearing distance knows exactly who’s doing this to her.
Exactly as I want it.
Every motherfucker in this place needs to know she’s mine, because no one dares put their hands on anything that belongs to me.
Her pussy clamps down so hard on my fingers that I swear I’m only a second away from coming in my own pants like a fucking twelve-year-old at a wet t-shirt competition.
“Fucking hell, Princess. You’re fucking killing me.”
After a few seconds, her body stops convulsing and she comes down from her high. I know the moment that reality comes crashing down on her, because her eyes widen and she lifts her hands to cover her exposed tits. It’s a damn fucking shame.
“What the fuck, Ace?”
“You’re welcome.”
Lifting my hand, I suck the two fingers that were just inside her into my mouth. My eyes hold hers as I do so, and hers go so wide I’m worried they might pop out.
“Mmmm… you taste like fucking heaven, Princess.”
“Oh my god. I cannot believe you just did that.”
She makes quick work of pulling the lace back over her tits before dropping her face into her hands and hiding from me.
“One,” I say, wrapping my fingers around her wrists and pulling them from her face. “That totally happened. And two, never hide from me. Ever.”
Her lips part like she wants to rip me a new one, but she doesn’t say anything. Stepping away from the wall, she stares at the floor in disbelief.
Following her gaze, I find her ruined panties beside her foot. “You,” she seethes, stepping up to me, her face red with anger. “You expect me to spend the rest of the day at school with no panties on?”
I can’t help the wicked smile that curls my lips.
I want to tell her that it’s my way of ensuring she doesn’t forget who has them as I bend down to collect them and shove them in my pocket, but the words that fall from my lips are very different.
“Spend the day with me.”
Chapter Ten
Remi
Spend the day with me.
The words echo through my blissed-out state of mind.
That was not supposed to happen. But the ache deep inside me is a delicious reminder that it did.
Jesus. Ace isn’t just a dangerous guy... he’s a danger to my sanity.
I press my legs together and smooth out my skirt.
“What’s it gonna be, Princess?” he asks.
“Where will we go?” I can’t believe I ask the question, but it’s not like I can stay in school in a puddle-soaked uniform wearing no panties.
A smirk tips the corner of Ace's mouth. “I have a few ideas.” His eyes drift down my body, lingering on the hem of my skirt. My stomach clenches.
“I’m not going to have sex with you,” I say, lifting my chin in defiance.
His deep chuckle reverberates around the locker room. “Getting ahead of yourself a bit, aren’t you?”
“So you don’t want me?” I’d felt the outline of his cock pressed up against me as he tortured me with his fingers.
Because it was torture.
Sweet, delicious torture that made me float away to some higher place. A place where there was no Michaela and Lylah and their merry band of cheer bitches, no cheating asshole father, or vile men who had a penchant for young girls.
But I couldn’t help but think I was replacing one version of hell for another.
“Promise I won’t end up dead, maimed, or drugged?”
His chuckle deepens as he stalks toward me. Curving a hand around the back of my neck, he drops his face level to mine. “I promise I won’t ever make you do anything you don’t want to.”
“You sound awfully sure of yourself.”
“Trust me when I say, Princess, that when I’m through with you, you’ll be begging for me to give it to you.”
Swatting his chest, I shoulder past him, fighting my own smile. He doesn’t say a word as I reach for the door. Glancing over my shoulder, I try my best to look demure. “Come on then, bad boy, show me a good time.”
“Shit, for real?” His eyes darken with lust.
“Yeah. It’s not like I can stay in school,” my gaze drops to my skirt, slowly lifting back up to meet his intense stare, “and to be honest, I like the idea of rebelling a little.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Ace strides toward me. “Let’s get out of here.”
I’ve always wondered what it would be like to ride a motorcycle. I just never imagined I’d have my maiden voyage on the back of Ace Jagger’s bike, wearing nothing but my Sterling Prep uniform and no fucking panties.
I’m sure there’s probably a law against this kind of thing, but from how fast Ace is riding, I know he doesn’t care.
I’m starting to wonder what, if anything, Ace does care about.
He acted so protective back in the locker room, as if the fact that I was upset over Michaela’s little stunt genuinely affected him, but I don’t want to raise my hopes. Ace carries a darkness inside him, and I don’t doubt he has secrets. They lurk behind his frosty gaze, taunting me.
I know, because so do I.
He pulls up alongside my house and I climb off, careful to hold my skirt in place. Ace chuckles, watching me grapple with the helmet he insisted I wear.
“Here.” He leans forward to help me get the damn thing off.
“I’ll just...” I thumb over my shoulder to my house.
“I’ll be waiting.” That trademark smirk of his slides into place, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Part of me half expects him to follow me inside, but he doesn’t, and in less than five minutes, I’m back at the bike in a pair of jeans and a fitted black t-shirt.
“You shoulda kept the skirt,” he says as I climb on behind him, fitting my thighs around his hips. Ace slides his hand a
long my knee, sending shivers skating through me. His touch is like kryptonite, making me weak for him.
And I know I'm in deep trouble.
“So where are we going?”
“It's a surprise,” he says.
A thrill shoots through me. I’ve cut the odd class before, but I’ve never skipped out on the whole day. My mom will lose her shit when she finds out, but I can’t find it in myself to care. All I can think about is Michaela standing there, laughing at me. They were all laughing. Kids who used to be my friends. Kids that turned against me all because Queen Michaela snapped her fingers and said so.
“Easy, tiger,” Ace says over his shoulder as he hands me the helmet.
“Sorry.” I curl my fingers from my stomach, but he catches one of my hands.
“Don’t let that bitch inside your head.”
“Easy for you to say,” I grumble, but he’s already kicked the starter. The bike rumbles to life beneath us, drowning out my words.
It suits Ace. Sleek and powerful, and emanating danger.
He takes the coastal road out of the Bay towards the Heights. Nervous energy vibrates inside me as I hold him tighter. It’s like the closer we get, the faster he goes, and I wonder if I’m going to meet the real Ace.
The Sterling Heights version.
I’ve only ever passed the Heights. It isn’t somewhere people from Sterling Bay make a habit of going. The changes start slow at first. The big houses with immaculate yards become few and far between, replaced with derelict buildings covered in graffiti and small, dilapidated houses.
I’m suddenly relieved I traded my prep school uniform for jeans and a T-shirt.
Ace eases off the gas as he twists and turns down a network of streets. He clearly knows his way around this neighborhood, so when he pulls up outside a store marked ‘Sinners,’ I wonder where the hell he’s brought me.
He waits for me to climb off before doing the same. This time, I manage to get the helmet off myself.
“Here,” Ace says, taking it from me and hanging it over the handlebars.
“What is this place?”
“Scared, Princess?”
“You’ll have to do something a little worse than bring me to the Heights to intimidate me, Ace.” I level him with a serious look.
“Oh, is that right?” He flashes me a wolfish grin. “Come on.” Without warning, Ace grabs my hand and pulls me toward the store. A bell jangles as we step inside, and I scan the place. The walls are covered in rattle can art and there’s a distinctive hum in the air.
“You’re getting a tattoo?” I ask.
“Yeah.” Ace is distracted, reading his cell phone.
“Problem?” I ask, and a dark expression crosses his face.
“Nothing that can’t wait. Yo, Cruz, you back there?”
There’s commotion beyond the chain curtain, and a guy as scary looking as Ace appears. “Jag, my man, how’s it going?”
“You know how it is.”
“Who’s the chick?” His eyes take a leisurely sweep down my body, and I half expect Ace to go into full alpha asshole mode.
But he doesn’t.
“I’m Ace’s—“
“No one. She’s no one.”
My stomach drops, but I bury the hurt. So what? It’s not like we’re together.
It’s not like we’re anything at all.
I avert my eyes, pretending to look at one of the design folders out on a counter pushed up against the wall.
“Kelsey know you’re in the neighborhood with a...” Cruz lowers his voice so I can’t hear the rest, and I’m not sure I want to.
Suddenly, coming here with Ace feels like a giant mistake. He makes me reckless and impulsive, completely disarming me.
It never occurred to me before now that maybe that’s how he wants me.
I peek over at them, and I’m surprised to find them both looking at me. “You want to see a real artist at work?” Ace asks.
“You’re getting a tattoo? Now?”
“Well I didn’t come here to get my hair braided.”
Cruz snorts at that. “What do you say, Ace’s girl?” His eyes slide to Ace, but he doesn’t flinch.
I frown, wondering what game Cruz is playing. “After you,” he says, motioning to the curtain. I slip around them and part the chain ropes, but at the last second, I glance back and say, “My name is Remi, and I’m no one's property.”
Cruz explodes with laughter, and I swear I hear Ace grumble at him to fuck off. I fight a smile.
I might be treated as a worthless no one at Sterling Prep, but I refuse to be that girl here.
The back room is divided into two workstations separated by a thin medical-grade curtain. Someone’s boots are poking out the end as the quiet mumble of pained sighs fills the room.
“Yo, D, Jag is in the building.” Another guy rolls out on a stool from behind the curtain.
“Decided to get your ass in the chair and get that sleeve finished?”
“You know it.” Ace flexes his arm, the inked patterns coming to life on his skin.
“Let’s get started.” Cruz begins laying out his tattoo gun. “Ace’s girl... I mean Remi, you can take a seat right here.” He pats a stool near the chair Ace is getting comfortable in.
“Don’t you have to trace the design onto his skin first?” I ask, seeing no sign of any paper.
“Nah, I let Cruz do his thing.”
“Wow, you must really trust him.” I glance at Cruz. “Have you ever been tempted to tattoo something really inappropriate on him?”
“Who says I haven’t?” He shoots me a wicked grin. “Now watch and learn.”
Tensing his arm, Ace barely flinches as Cruz gets to work on his skin. There’s already a myriad of patterns, but they all seem to flow into one another effortlessly.
“You got any ink, Remi?” the other guy calls from behind the curtain.
“No,” I reply, “but I’ve always wanted one.”
“Virgin skin,” he chuckles. “You know we’re going to have to rectify that, Cruz, man.”
“I just don’t know what I’d get." I shrug. "It’s a big commitment.”
The guys all howl with laughter at my comment, but I let them have their fun. I’m too entranced by the way Cruz paints Ace’s skin to care.
“You’re really talented,” I say.
“Thanks, being a tattoo artist is fifty-percent artist, thirty-percent technical ability, and twenty-percent therapist. Am I right, D?”
“Hell yeah.”
“People like to talk when they’re in the chair, huh?” I ask.
“Some people, like your guy here, don’t utter a word. Others talk and talk—“
“And talk,” D calls.
“I guess pain affects everyone differently.” My eyes lift to Ace as I say the words, but he’s already watching me, his gaze clouded with something I can’t quite decipher.
I smile, itching to reach out and trace the patterns decorating his hard muscles.
“So Jag,” Cruz says as he outlines what looks like a skull on Ace’s lower bicep, “have you heard from Donny? Rumor has it he’s pissed you haven’t—“
Ace’s eyes snap to his friend’s, and he shakes his head discreetly.
“Shit, man. My bad.” Cruz’s eye flick to mine. “Hey Remi, you thirsty? We got a vending machine out front. You have to kick the fucking thing to get it to drop though. Or there’s a water cooler.”
“I could do with a soda,” Ace says, his hard gaze back on me.
“Anyone else want anything while I’m up?” Sarcasm clings to my words. Cruz must hear it, because he laughs.
“I’ll take a water,” the guy from behind the curtain says.
I get up and go back out front, locating the vending machine and water cooler.
“So what’s that all about, man?” Cruz’s words give me pause. “You know if Kelsey hears...” I can’t make out what he’s saying, but he mentioned her name again.
Kelsey.
&nbs
p; I want to believe it’s no one, that Ace wouldn’t be fooling around with me if he had a girl in the Heights. But I’ve been burned too many times to trust people—especially people I barely know.
When I re-enter the back room, Cruz and Ace fall silent, and it’s obvious they were talking about me. I raise a brow. “Did I interrupt something?” Handing Ace his soda, I peek around the curtain and put the cup of water down on a steel tray. The guy in the chair doesn’t look so good, and I quickly slip away.
“I like you, Ace’s girl,” Cruz says when I sit back down. “You should come back here soon and let me ink you. On the house.”
“Maybe I will. It’s my birthday soon.” The words spill out, and I instantly regret them.
“You hear that Jag? It’s your girl’s birthday. You’d better get her something real nice and pretty.”
Ace flips him off, grumbling some inaudible reply. Something has changed since we first got here. Ace is distant, and I can’t help but wonder if it has anything to do with Kelsey.
For the next thirty minutes, I sit watching Cruz shade in the skull. It’s a dark and twisted piece of art, but the way his hand moves slow and steady with complete precision fascinates me. When he’s done, he wipes away the remnant ink and blood, wraps the tattoo, and snaps off his gloves.
“You know the deal,” he says to Ace, who nods.
“Thanks, man.” Ace stands and walks over to a mirror to check out his new addition.
“What do you think, Princess?”
“I love it.”
“Yeah.” His eyes darken in the mirror, fixed right on my face. “Me too.”
Just then, his cell phone starts vibrating. Ace digs it out his pocket and cusses. “I need to take this.” He stalks out of the room, leaving me with Cruz.
“So you’re from the Bay?” he asks.
“Yeah. Born and raised.”
“We don’t get a lot of your kind around here.” There’s no malice in his words, just mild curiosity. “You sure don’t look like most of those stuck-up rich bitches.”
“Nice.” My lips flatten, and he chuckles.
“Hey, no offence intended.” Cruz holds up his hands.
“None taken. I’m a bit of a black sheep at Sterling Prep.” I don’t know why I’m telling him this, but he seems to get it, understanding washing over him.