Page 50 of Dance Practice, Marooned: Part 2

I bite my lower lip and he steps out, taking a towel and wrapping me in it. He presses his mouth to my shoulder, and just holds me there for a second. I want to stay in that second forever, locking it in a jar, so I can let it out on the nights when the world feels as though it’s ending.

Tonight isn’t one of those nights, but we never know what tomorrow will bring.

All I know is that right now, right here in this tiny shower, I am completely content.

ACE’S DICK SLIDES IN and out of me in a way that feels borderline torturous.

Like he is enjoying my squirming, my begging, my gasps of pleasure as he plunges into me before slowing down again.

The man has stamina unmatched. In this room, we have been for what feels like hours, tangled in each other, our bodies wrapped together as we find every surface we can to fuck on. Slowly, I have ridden his cock and watched the muscles in his chest jump and tense as his fingers dig into my hips. Hard, he has fucked me, my body bent over the desk, bottom on display as he drives his cock in and out, until I’m crying his name.

Now it’s gentle, almost passionate.

His body over mine, fingers tangled in my hair, mouth on mine.

I breathe hard, chest rattling against his as he finally slides his cock all the way in. Deep, like he wants to leave a part of himself inside me forever. I arch up, back bowing, arms getting twisted above my head by his big hands. He holds me there, splayed out, as he starts to move—slow, then fast, then slow again, like he’s trying to memorise every pulse inside my body.

He kisses me as he fucks me, gasping my name into my mouth, teeth dragging over my lips, hands never stopping their rough worship. It shouldn’t feel this good, not after months of rage and misery, but when he’s inside me nothing else exists. Just his hips pressing full and hard against me, pinning me to the bed, fucking me so deep I become one long, desperate whimper.

I find what would have to be my fourth release before him.

I don’t have the energy to scream, but it feels just as good, if not better, than all the rest.

My shuddering takes a while to die down, but that doesn’t stop him from continuing his gentle lovemaking, his jaw tight, and I know he is close to the end, too. When the pace picks up, and I feel his body tense, I know he has found it. I take a moment to truly watch him, to relish the way his mouth drops open just a little, and his moan is raspy and thick.

Arms tensing, then releasing as his muscles flex. He’s the most beautiful man I have ever seen, looking down at me, all bronzed skin and sun-kissed hair. The island life suits him, the long unkempt look makes him edgier, even more dangerous. Throw in the tattoos, and he is the ultimate bad boy. Yes, this man is perfection.

His cock pulses, and his breath is warm against my face as he finally lets go, dropping down onto me, holding his weight with his elbows and slowing his thrusts until he is simply dragging his dick in and out, waiting for the pleasure to die down. Then, his mouth is on mine, a gentle, warm kiss that is deep and unwavering. My hand cups his cheek, beard scratchy against my palm, as I return that kiss.

I wonder to myself, does he feel this as deeply as I do?

The answer to that question scares me.

Because what if this is just some fantasy, a tormented story about a group of people forced to fight for survival, but when reality comes back, will it still feel the same?

“I missed you,” I whisper, because it’s the only way I can express just how everything feels right now.

He buries his face in my throat. “Me too, baby.”

He rolls me to my side, keeping me in his arms, and we lie like that, clinging, until the aftershocks fade and our heartbeats start to slow. My head nestles against his chest, breaths evening out to match his.

Then, of course, my stomach betrays me.

A loud, angry grumble erupts, so loud it vibrates against him, and I’m mortified.

Ace chuckles, low and throaty as he pulls back and looks at me. “Hungry, sweet pea?”

“Starving,” I admit. “Like, actually, I think I might die...”

He grins, then rolls away from me, stands, and pulls on his pants.

“Where are you going?” I ask, stretching.

“To feed my woman,” he winks, then disappears out the door.

He is gone maybe ten minutes, and comes back into the room with an armful of items and a half-smirk on his face. “Close your eyes and open your mouth.”

I prop up on my elbows. “What? Why?”