.
The next day, I pulled further away.
Brittany noticed — I saw it in her eyes every time she caught me zoning out, every time I brushed off her touch, every time I came home late and blamed work.
“Ace, please,” she said quietly that night, her voice breaking. “Talk to me. What’s happening to us?”
I cupped her face in my hands, kissing her hard, desperate, swallowing her words, burying mine. “Nothing’s happening,” I murmured against her lips. “Nothing at all.”
But we both knew that was a lie.
That night, the weight crashed down.
My father called.
“Time’s up.”
I sat on the balcony long after the call ended, the cold night air biting at my skin, hands trembling as I clutched the railing.
Time’s up.
I went back inside, found Brittany curled up on the couch, half-asleep, the TV casting soft light across her face. I just stood there for a long moment, watching her chest rise and fall, watching the way her lips parted in sleep, the way she sighed softly when I brushed a strand of hair from her face.
I didn’t deserve her.
I never did.
She stirred when I bent to kiss her forehead, her eyes fluttering open, still hazy with sleep. “Ace?” she murmured, smiling drowsily. “Come to bed.”
I carried her to the bedroom.
We didn’t speak.
We didn’t need to.
I kissed her like a dying man, touched her like I was memorizing her skin, her scent, the sound of her breath hitching in the dark. She gasped my name, fingers threading through my hair, pulling me closer, and I buried my face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in like oxygen.
“I love you,” she whispered, again and again, her voice breaking, her hands trembling against my skin.
And I — God, I tried to say it back.
But my throat closed.
I buried my face in her shoulder, gripping her hips, moving with a desperation that left us both shaking. Every kiss was a goodbye. Every touch was a prayer. Every whispered word was a thread unraveling between us.
Her hands are all over me, nails raking down my back as I thrust into her with deep, powerful strokes. The bed creaks beneath us, the headboard slamming against the wall with each forceful drive of my hips.
"Oh god, Ace," Brittany moans, her head thrown back in ecstasy. "Don't stop. Harder."
I oblige, my fingers digging into her hips as I pound into her tight, wet heat. She feels like heaven, her walls clenching aroundmy cock like a velvet glove. I want to lose myself in her, to forget about the terrible decision I'll have to make in the morning.
Brittany arches her back, her breasts bouncing with each thrust. Leaning down, I capture a nipple in my mouth, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive bud. She cries out, her fingers fisting in my hair.
"Fuck, Ace," she gasps, her hips rising to meet mine. "I'm going to come."
I double my efforts, my cock slamming into her G-spot with relentless precision. I feel her tightening around me, her body stiffening as her climax builds.
"Come for me, baby," I growl, my voice strained with my own impending release. "Let me feel you come apart on my cock."
