ACE:Las Vegas Bad Boys(29)

And in this moment, with hundreds of people around us, with music vibrating off the walls, with his arms snaking around my waist, I want him to wreck me.

I want to be ruined.

It's so loud on the dance floor I can't hear myself think, can't hear his whispered words. Can't remember why resisting him will make me happy.

I know that earlier I walked away because I didn't want to be used, didn't want to be Ace's plaything. But right now he isn't in control. He isn't in the power seat.

I am.

I know that I'm what and who he wants. As I run my hands through his hair, press my lips against his ear, breathing in and out, I know that right now he isn't in charge the way he wanted to be in the elevator.

Right now I'm driving this racecar and I want to take it around the track at 150 mph. I want to be chaos and I want to crash.

The voicemail from the doctor said that if Janie doesn't wake within the week they’re going to take her off life support.

I don't want to think. I don't want to talk.

I just want to escape.

My hands find their way to Ace's waist, slide down the front of his pants, where his throbbing rod is waiting for me.

People are everywhere. We've moved to the center of the dance pit where everyone moves cheek to cheek, asses grinding against the hard cocks behind them. Men and women have their mouths on one another, have their hands rubbing against glistening skin, and smoldering eyes greedily watching the heat of the night.

It is a fucking orgy waiting to happen.

But I don't want an orgy. I want Ace.

I want him now.

His eyes close, the music sinking into our skin, lights flashing around us, confetti falling from the ceiling as the DJ—Jack—spins the club into a frenzy.

My hands press against the hardness in his pants but it's not enough. I want more. I want everything.

“Ace, I need you. Now.” In his ear I whisper words that are truer than he knows. Somehow he hears me and silently takes my hand, pulls me through the crowd.

He doesn't take me back to his table.

Instead, he takes me away.



We don't talk. What words would I use?

I'm using you so I don't feel the fear clawing its way at my heart?

I'm using you so I can pretend my past isn't tumbling to the present?

I'm using you because I don't want to be alone?

I can't say those things.

So I say nothing at all.

He leads me to a dark room down a hallway, past the restrooms and past the bar kitchen and past the noise.

He leads me to a closet, switches on a dim light, and I see that the room is filled with shelves of liquor. He finds a bottle of whiskey, unscrews the cap. Takes a long pull that I know must burn his throat as he swallows.

I take the bottle, drink. I want to be set on fire.

I want to be consumed by a blaze.

His eyes are on me and I lock mine on him. The electricity of the club bounces through the walls.

But the electricity of what I feel with Ace right now is deeper, longer. More. What I feel right now is a mixture of heartbreak from the phone call and desire for what he is going to do to me.

What I feel right now is alive.

And that is so much better than turning to ash.

“Fuck me, Ace.”

“Are you okay?” he asks, his eyes searing into mine. He can see my pain, read my hurt. It is good of him to ask.

But I don't want to answer because I don't want to lie. Not to him.

“Just do it, do me. Please.”

I beg him. And I am not ashamed.

I beg him. And I am not afraid.

I beg him. And he answers.





ACE


Emmy is broken, but she wants me to rip her open. I don't know what’s behind those gorgeous blue eyes, but I know enough to not ask any more questions.

She isn't looking for a friend, a lover. She's looking to run.

I have no problem driving her get-away car.

I pull up her dress so it wraps around her waist. Her pussy is bare and a smile crosses my mouth for the first time all day.

It’s impossible not to feel like a million bucks as I take in the fact that no panties cover that perfect mound of hers. The door to the stockroom is closed, and I push her against it, crash my mouth on hers. The heat grows, and so does my cock.

She unbuckles my pants and they fall to the floor. My cock escapes my boxers as she slinks her hand around my hardness. She moans at the sight of it, the feel of it, the same way she did last night. I love knowing that one look at it gets her wet.

“You make me so hot,” she says as my fingers find her opening. I lift her leg up, and my other hand begins to softly finger her folds. She wasn't lying about getting hot and bothered—she's already dripping.

I press two fingers in her, fucking her faster as I slide them in and out. She clings to my neck as I touch her. The feel of her heat makes me so hard, makes me want to fuck her until she can’t see straight.

My thumb finds her round nub and her clit throbs as I press against it, and as I add pressure her breath catches. She arches her back in pleasure.