Page 68 of Ace of Spades
“You’re still in your bathing suit?” he asks.
“Yeah, my—uh,” I cough. “My hot water wasn’t working for some reason.”
“Really? I’ll check it out in the morning.”
“It’s fine, really—it should be an easy fix, it happens all the time. No biggie.”
“If it happens all the time you should probably get it fixed, that sounds pretty inconvenient. There’s a trailer shop in town, I’m sure they’ll have whatever parts you need to fix the issue. I’ll take care of it as soon as I get the chance, but for now, you can just shower here.”
“Oh,” I stammer. “Yeah, sure. I mean, that would be great. Thank you.”
Shit, when had I become so awkward?
“I’ll grab you a towel if you want to go get the water running. You can use the en-suite. I assume you remember where the bedroom is?” he smirks, leading the way into said bedroom.
I roll my eyes, walking past him into the adjoining bathroom. A large hand wraps around my throat before I can getfar, pulling me back into Weston’s hard chest. He tilts my head back so I’m looking up at him, mischief swirling in his eyes.
“What did I say about rolling your eyes at me, Sorrels?”
I swallow a gulp.
“Last I checked, you have yet to make good on that promise.”
His eyes light up with hunger, his fingers digging roughly into my jaw. His lips come down to my ear, his hot breath on my pulse point making a shiver skate down my spine.
“If you wanted me to fuck you, all you needed to do was ask.”
Still pinning me against his chest, his free hand plunges into the front of my shorts, a gasp escaping my lips as his fingers immediately reach my clit. My hips buck into his touch, his fingers swiping through my slit and running the wetness back up before circling his fingers around the already sensitive bundle of nerves.
“Already dripping for me,” he whispers in my ear, his tone low and gravely. Without warning, he sinks two fingers inside me, working in and out at a punishing pace.
I let my head lay back against his chest, pleasure building inside of me as my hips grind into his touch.
“Such a greedy little cunt, begging to be fucked. Is that what you want?”
“Please,” I whimper, his words adding to my arousal.
“Please what? Use your words.”
“Please fuck me,” I manage to choke out.
In the next moment, he has me pinned down on the counter, his hand grabbing a fistful of my hair and pressing my chest down against the cool marble.
Weston pulls my shorts down with one hand, my swimsuit bottoms coming down with them as he leaves me completely exposed to him, the cool air brushing against my sopping wet center as I hear him undo his buckle.
My breath hitches in my throat as I feel him position himself at my entrance, his hand in my hair tilting my neck back so that I’m staring at the both of us in the mirror. His eyes devour me, his tone authoritative as he speaks.
“Eyes on me while I fuck you.”
He slams into me, eliciting a cry from my lips as he drives himself to the hilt in one thrust. He stills for a moment, letting me adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and thrusting back in.
He picks up momentum, pounding into me at a rough pace that drags a throaty moan out of me. My fingers scrape along the counter, trying to grab ahold of anything I can to anchor myself as he ruthlessly fucks me.
“Weston,” I manage to breathe, “I can’t, it’s—it’s too much.”
The hand fisting my hair pulls my head back further, straining my neck as he leans down, bringing his face closer to mine. We lock eyes in the mirror and I shudder at the commanding expression on his face, something feral lurking behind the facade.
“You can take it,” he says.
