The Club: Ace

by Jenna Elliot

  Then he glides a finger into my ass, just pressing lightly, until that part of me unfolds for him, too, and some wrenching sensation starts to build deep inside me, a place so deep I didn’t know it existed. I gasp into his mouth. My lungs burning for air. But my bottom relaxes in gentle degrees, letting him invade me in my most private place.

  The feeling mounts as he maneuvers his hands everywhere, sliding between my pussy and ass, distracting me with his kisses. It’s like a tide welling inside me with the force of the ocean behind it, a mounting sensation that steals my breath and involves every part of me. My breasts tingle and my tummy swoops and my pussy clenches and my thighs shake and my heart throbs and my insides tumble end over end over end.

  My awareness fades until all I see is Ace, all I feel is him, all I want is him. The sensation is torture. His slow stroking touches are no longer enough. I want more. I need more. I’m dissolving with the need. With my tongue and moans, I urge him to go harder and faster.

  And he totally ignores my demands.

  When he slips a second finger into my ass, I can only grind against him, eager for more. My god, this is delicious.

  I try to lift my hips, but he won’t let me. He holds me in position with his muscular thighs, spread open wide to his pleasure. With my arms bound, I can’t move. I can only take what he wants to give.

  And he holds back. The master of my body.

  I tear my mouth away from his to beg. “Ace, please.”

  “Color?” he growls.

  I can’t wrap my brain around that. “Please . . . don’t . . . stop.”

  His laughter is hot against my mouth. “You are such a lovely surprise.”

  He eases his fingers in and out slowly, way too slowly, uses his thumb to tease my clit. I’m going wild inside, but I can’t move. Oh my god, this is just insane.

  “Open your eyes, Emme,” he demands.

  I’m so caught up in sensation that it takes another second to comprehend what he wants me to do. But when I open my eyes, I can only sob out another needy moan at the glorious sight of him all predatory and commanding, but with a gentleness in his face and in his touch that belies the demands.

  “Will you wait, Emme?” he asks. “Will you stay on the edge here all night if that’s what I want?”

  I can’t drag my gaze from him. I’m riveted by everything right now, the need to please him, the need to be pleased, trapped on the edge of a need that feels so much bigger than I am. “Yes, sir.”

  At least, I’ll try.

  “What if I don’t let you cum? What if I send you home without satisfying you?”

  Some frail bit of reasoning manages to break through the desperate haze of need. I sense that he flexes his control right now, now of all times when I’m about to sob with my need for release, not because I need it, but because he does.

  And that thought gives me the focus to form the words, to admit, “I only want to please you, sir.”

  15

  Ace

  “GIVING YOU pleasure will give me pleasure,” Emme says this to me as if, deep in her soul, she knows it’s true.

  And it is. She knows the secret of submission, tastes the power. Being the first to take her sweet ass is a memory I won’t forget. Her willingness to give me all the control makes me even more determined to make her cum like she’s never cum before. My needs don’t matter right now. They can wait. All I want is to push her higher than she knows she can go.

  Yes, power. It’s a drug.

  “Look at me, sweetheart.” She holds my gaze and I watch her pupils dilate as I slide my dick over her slick pussy. “You feel so good, silky, wet.”

  “Can you go faster?”

  Waiting will increase her pleasure. Waiting will make the big bang go super nova. She’ll just have to trust me on this.

  Sliding my dick to her ass, I press against her, smile when she shifts her hips and tries to take me inside. Tries to take back the control. Resisting my own urge to sink deep inside, I hold her hips in place with my weight and stroke her clit.

  She lets out a silken moan, and with torturous patience, I ease the head of my dick inside with exquisite slow motion. I’m big and she stretches around me, such a tight fit. I use my fingers on her clit to make her relax and distract her from the pressure of my big dick in her ass.

  Her hands clench in the cuffs. Her pretty tits shake as her chest rises and falls on sharp breaths. The sounds of her panting filter through the quiet.

  I croon to her. I don’t even know what I’m saying, but I reassure her with my voice as I sink in a little more, feel her stretch to accommodate me. She gasps aloud, arches wildly against me, trying to lever me to move at her pace. I know she’s close to orgasm now, but I’m not ready to let her go yet.

  Not just yet. I break into a sweat, determined to do her right.

  “Ace,” she exhales my voice on a low moan. “Please.”

  And I can barely resist her plea. I rub her clit and shift up until I can catch her nipple in my mouth, distracting her. Distracting me. But the movement drives me into her more, and she rocks beneath me.

  “Please,” she demands, as if she’s the one calling the shots.

  She’s not, but she is killing me. I can’t hold back a grin. “Hey, who the fuck is in charge here?”

  “Ace.”

  I drop all the way in. Although every muscle in me is firing, I hold still, giving her time to adjust.

  But she’s still trying to tip up her hips to take more.

  And all my air seems to rush out.

  I flick her clit hard, fast. And then I withdraw slowly, before sinking back in. A moan slips from her mouth in time with my motion, and I feel her whole body gathering beneath me.

  “Try to hold on, baby doll,” I tell her.

  But she only stares at me with a pleasure-drugged expression. Her hips tip up and down, taking me at her own pace, the tiny moans tumbling from her lips with each rocking motion. She’s too caught up in sensation to hold back, and she sucks me along with her. The tightness. The pressure. The heat. Her excitement. They all crash in on me.

  I barely know what I’m doing when I slide my hand from her pussy, and anchor myself on my elbows so I can control the thrusts, control her body, which goes wild under mine.

  My own groans of pleasure join hers as I fight for control of myself, to resist the mounting intensity roaring through my dick, but it’s no good. I’m gone. So gone. I explode. The orgasm burning, bursting through every fucking inch of me until I’m driving her like my hips are on pistons.

  And Emme is right there with me, meeting me thrust for thrust, levering her legs against me to suck me in even deeper. Her moans rise on a crescendo that’s music to my ears. And just as the waves of my own orgasm threaten to make me collapse on top of her, I feel her entire body spasm. She screams.

  My name.

  And the sound of her pleasure tears through me, slicing through my every defense, until I gather her against me, needing to feel every inch of her against me, still plunging deep inside as if everything that separates us might melt away and I can feel her body erupt in spasms, each one ripping my name from her lips, again and again and again.

  I feel the warmth of her climax burst from her weeping pussy, sealing us skin to skin, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, and we rock together on the insane crest of that sensation, her orgasm going on and on and on, and me still shooting my own juices in decreasing spurts that rob me of the ability to do anything but bury my face in her neck and hang on for the ride.

  16

  Emme

  I’M DROWNING under one enormous wave of pleasure. It wells up from everywhere, sensation that chases away all awareness until I’m nothing but breath in heaving gasps. Muscles that vibrate uncontrollably. A pussy clenching hungrily.

  I’m pulled under again and again and again . . . drowning, and the pleasure doesn’t stop.

  “Red,” I force the word through a tight throat, a gravel whisper I barely make out through the storm.<
br />
  “Emme, are you okay?”

  I hear Ace, but I can only lay there in a quivering puddle until the spasms finally start to slow. It takes forever for the waves to subside enough to think past, to push past the admission, “It’s . . . too much . . .”

  “What’s too much?”

  I’m aware of him stroking my face, such a gentle touch that confuses me more. “Pleasure.”

  Did I just say too much pleasure? That doesn’t make any sense now, does it? Isn’t that why I come to Command Performance—for pleasure?

  The next thing I know, Ace is moving away. I feel cool air where his warm body covered me. The world spins again with the motion, and I close my eyes tight, try to hang on . . . can’t move. I remember the restraints.

  But that’s exactly what he goes for. There’s a gentle slap of leather, the rattle of metal and one wrist free, then the other. He catches me before I have a chance to roll to my side and slip into a coma . . .

  He gathers me against him, soothing me, cradling me, all his warm strength chasing away the cool air again. I snuggle into his broad chest, content.

  “Too much pleasure, my sweet Emme?” he whispers against my ear. “Is there such a thing?”

  “Obviously.”

  “You just respond to me with total abandon.” Another chuckle. “I’m good at what I do. But your trust, your passion, is amazing.”

  “I’m sorry for making you stop. You felt too good. Honestly, if that orgasm didn’t stop, I was going to faint.”

  He chuckles into my hair. Holds me closer. “No worries. That’s why we have codes. But I don’t think too many people use them because their orgasms are too intense.”

  I manage a fist and hit his shoulder. “Please don’t make fun of me.”

  He lifts my fist as if it is a feather, presses his mouth to my knuckles in the sweetest kiss. “I would never.”

  And we lie there in spent silence for a minute, or an hour, I don’t know. I think I doze in his arms, but eventually I become aware of the puddle I’m lying in. And I notice the slickness of my thighs, and remember another detail through the haze of pleasure-soaked memory.

  “Oh God.” The words slip past my lips.

  “What?” He sounds startled, as if he may have been dozing, too.

  The memory propels my eyes open. “I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Emme, what?” he demands, forcing himself up onto an elbow to stare down at me.

  His face is so beautiful in the soft light, the concern in his expression intimate. In this moment I believe he cares. “I think . . . I wet your bed.”

  He arches a dark eyebrow. His reactions are off too. I’m not the only one dazed. Reaching around me, he brushes a hand over the sheets, over the curve of my bottom, my thigh.

  “No, I don’t know what you’re—”

  “I felt it. I remember.”

  “Felt what?” Now he frowns.

  “Fluid,” I admit, “Gushing.”

  Out of me.

  I don’t admit that. Heat scorches my skin, and I bury my face against his chest, so he can’t see me turn red. As if he can’t feel it the way we’re stretched out against each other.

  He drops back down, chuckling. “Pussy juice. You came. I felt it, too.”

  I have no clue what to say to that.

  “Passionate women orgasm,” he continues conversationally, as if discussing my body’s response to anal sex is the most natural thing in the world. “They can cum just like men. Takes someone who knows what they’re doing to get that response, of course.”

  There is something so triumphant in his tone that I tip my head back and chance a peek at his face to find him beaming proudly. Really? Is he waiting for a standing ovation?

  Even without his two hundred-plus pounds pinning me to the bed, I couldn’t stand right now. I can’t even feel my legs.

  But there’s a part of me beaming just as proudly, just glowing inside because I’ve pleased him.

  “Don’t worry, Emme,” he says reassuringly. “It’s natural. And it’s a good thing. It means you’re a very passionate woman.”

  Oh, yes, I’m definitely glowing inside. “I suppose you bring out the best in me.”

  He considers that for a moment, then kisses the tip of my nose. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

  17

  Emme

  MIA’S EXPECTING my call to find out how tonight’s test went, but everything with Ace feels so bright and shiny that I set aside my phone in my console on the drive home. Ace feels like a present I just unwrapped, and I want to savor the feeling. I don’t want to share the night with anyone else. Not even Mia. She feels obligated to keep me grounded because she’s known Ace, for longer than I have. And while I appreciate how much she cares, I don’t want to be grounded right now. I want to feel special. The way I feel with Ace.

  When we’re together, I’m the woman he bends rules for, the woman he invites to his penthouse, the woman he wants to possess. I’m not the ex of a guy who didn’t value me, wasn’t satisfied with what we had, so he started boning someone else.

  I’m not even Four of Seven, one of a lot of LeBlanc kids, the one in the middle somewhere, one of the girls.

  Hell no, I don’t want reality right now. I want to keep the way I feel all to myself for a while longer. Ace stokes me in so many ways. I feel edgy and daring. Almost rebellious. I thought about just falling asleep at his place to see if he’d let me spend the night. He was so sweet that I couldn’t help but wonder if he might have wanted me to stay as much as I wanted to.

  But all I had to do was think about his swinging bachelor lifestyle, and I got my ass out of there. I may want to savor the way I feel after giving my virginity to an appreciative, and very hot, man, but I’m nothing if not practical. The last thing I need is to deepen a connection between us.

  I’m content with the sex. I want to feel special and excited and alive. That’s all I want from Ace. If a guy like Jason can’t keep his cheating dick in his pants, then no way can Ace measure up to my forever standards.

  Fun is fun. But Ace isn’t boyfriend material.

  My cell rings, and startles me from my thoughts. I glance at the display. Mia. Damn. She’ll worry if I don’t answer.

  “Hey. What’s up?”

  “I have news.” She sounds cheerful. Maybe there’s hope I can sidestep questions about tonight. Fingers crossed.

  “Ethan gave you the ring?” A guess, but a good one.

  “Yes.” Her squeal of delight forces me to yank the phone from my ear and wish I had Bluetooth.

  “Yay,” I say, smiling.

  “And . . . are you ready for more?”

  “Give it up. I want all the details, girl.”

  “Okay, okay.” She sounds happier than I have ever heard her, which is saying something.

  “He took me to the beach, and we had a private picnic at sunset. Oh, Emme, it was the most spectacular sunset. Perfect, just for us. He packed lobster and champagne. And right as the sun was about to sink into the water, he proposed. It was divine.”

  “You said yes?”

  That stops her, and I laugh quietly into the pause.

  “Of course I said yes. We’re getting married.”

  “Oh, Mia, congratulations. I am so thrilled. You two are so good together.”

  And I mean it. This sweet, wonderful friend has never been so happy as she is with Ethan. He’s helped her cut the apron strings and get on her feet, exploring things that make her happy and feel good about herself. For too long, she blindly followed the path her parents laid out for her, which was a perfectly good path, but it wasn’t Mia’s. Now she’s living and growing and having fun. That’s all I want for my friend.

  “Did you set a date?”

  “Damn straight we did. And it gets even better.”

  “I’m single. I don’t need to hear about you two doing the dirty on the beach.”

  She snorts. “Like you haven’t done the dirty yourself tonight.”

  Not the wa
y I want the conversation to go, so I redirect fast. “Tell me what gets better than a ring and a proposal.”

  Another squeal. “Emme. We’re getting married on Friday.”

  My turn to squeal. “OMG. Are you serious? That has to be the shortest engagement in history.”

  “I want us legal before I start to show.”

  For a split second, it’s as if everything just stops, as if someone throws a blanket over me and blocks all my senses. I don’t feel anything, hear anything, see anything, as I make sense of what she says.

  I blink and reconnect with the road ahead of me. “Show? Do you mean show as in baby bump?”

  Another breathless second ticks by before . . .

  “Yes.” One long squeal that shatters the rest of my surprise and nearly ruptures my ears.

  “Ohmigod,” is all I can say.

  “Right? I just found out today. I was going to tell Ethan at our picnic, but he proposed after he opened the bottle of champagne. It’s like we’re psychically linked. I had to tell him then because of course I couldn’t toast, because I can’t drink.”

  I’m not sure what happens then, but the next thing I know is, we’re suddenly both talking over each other. Then we laugh as I stop to let her finish, and she stops to let me finish. Then there’s more silence, and more laughter, and we do it again.

  I pull off the interstate at the next exit because I’m going to get killed if I don’t pay attention. And I can’t. I would much, much rather pay attention to this conversation.

  “Oh my God, Mia.” I cruise along the access road at a comfortable thirty-five. “I don’t even know what to say. This is unbelievable. You’re going to be married. To someone you actually want to be married to.”

  That was an issue with her last engagement.

  “Will you be my maid of honor?” she asks.

  “Of course. I’d love to.” My head spins. “So what kind of wedding are we having? Friday doesn’t leave us a lot of time.”

  Not to mention the fact that I’ll have to cancel my meeting with Ace. I hope that only delays my candidacy and doesn’t mean an automatic fail.