Page 138 of Gathered Sparkle

I let out a breathless, almost disbelieving chuckle. “Trouble, this has been in the making for almost a decade. Sixteen-year-old Ace would be so proud right now.”

“Idiot.” She giggles, the sound a fucking balm, making a smile spread on my lips. But her laugh becomes a soft gasp as my hand slips beneath the lace, pulling it to the side so my fingertips can brush over her soft, damp heat.

Fuck.

She whimpers softly, her hips jolting at the touch, and I swear, I see stars. It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. A groan rumbles in my chest as I drag my fingers over her slit.

“You’re wet,” I state like an idiot, surprised, as my fingers glide over the slickness between her thighs. “For me?”

I haven’t even done anything yet.

I barely trust myself to move, barely trust that this is real, but fuck—she’s so soft, so warm, so unbelievably ready for me, and it’s short-circuiting my goddamn brain.

“Yes, foryou.” It’s a whisper wrapped in need. Her lips curl into a breathless smile, and a chuckle escapes on a shaky pant. “Ace, you’re driving me crazy over here.”

I am?

Fuck.

She’s driving me crazy too.

I swallow hard, trying to grasp some thread of control, but it slips through my fingers like the wetness coating them. My fingers glide through her arousal, circling her clit, testing, remembering. Her hips jerk at the motion, a broken sound escaping her lips. God, she’s still as responsive as I remember—every little twitch and moan pulls me deeper into her.

“You feel like heaven,” I murmur, my voice barely audible over her ragged breaths. My words make her shudder, and her hips rock instinctively against my hand, seeking more. Her need, her trust—it’s everything. I’m desperate to give her what she wants, what she deserves.

Her head falls back, her hair cascading over her shoulders, her throat bared, pulse hammering. And I can’t stop myself. My mouth is on her before I even register moving, pressing hot, open-mouth kisses along the delicate skin between her breasts and tasting the heat of her, feeling her heartbeat thud against my lips.

I trace the curve of one breast with my tongue, savoring every fucking second of this. The way she arches into me, the way she shivers when I drag my teeth over her soft skin. A keening moan spills from her lips, and I swear to God, it does something to me. Something unhinged.

Her taste, her scent, the way she moves beneath me like I’m the only thing that exists—it’s intoxicating. I’m drunk on her.

My free hand steadies her as my fingers press deeper, finding that spot that used to make her shatter. Her reaction is instant. Her thighs tremble around me, and her hips move frantically, chasing the sensation like she needs it more than air.

“Ace,” she gasps out, my name not just a word, but a plea, a confession, a fucking surrender.

I growl low in my throat, the sound vibrating against her skin as I take her nipple into my mouth, sucking gently before biting down. Her cry is sharp, raw, and utterly beautiful. Her body clenches, her muscles locking up as she shatters around me.

I don’t stop, I can’t.

I draw it out, my fingers still working her, my mouth still claiming her, until she’s gone, lost in it, riding my hand with reckless abandon. Her hips buck wildly, her breath coming in short, frantic gasps, her hands scrambling at my shoulders and hair like she doesn’t know what to hold on to.

I know the feeling.

“You’re so perfect,” I whisper against her skin, the words a truth I’ve carried with me for years.

My lips trail slow, reverent kisses over every inch of her I can reach. My heart pounds, my cock throbbing almost painfully against her thigh, but I don’t move. I don’t rush. Because this isn’t just about me. It never was.

Right now, all that matters is her—seeing her like this, undone, knowing I did that, and she’s letting me.

Her tremors subside, her breath warm and erratic against my neck as she melts into me. I stroke her back in slow, soothing circles, kissing her temple as she clings to my shoulders.

And I don’t mind one bit.

She pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, and fuck, she’s wrecked—flushed cheeks, lips swollen and kiss-stung, green eyes dark with lingering heat. I swear I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

“Take off your sweats.” Her voice is soft but sure, edged with something like anticipation. But there’s a flicker of hesitation, too, like she’s offering, not demanding as if she needs me to meet her halfway.

A fresh wave of desire slams into me, but it wars with the hesitation lodged deep in my ribs. I sit up, muscles coiled tight, and she shifts with me.

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