Aces WildSpicy Unedited Excerpt from:

Ace's Wild

Copyright Sarah McCarty 2015
All rights reserved

“You’ve been begging for this for a long time, my pet.”

Petunia squirmed as Ace expected her to. Moaned as he wanted her to. He wanted that fight; he wanted that challenge. He wanted her to throw everything she had at him and then he wanted to catch it and mold it until everything she threw at him was her and everything he caught was her until everything he was, was her.

She squirmed and squealed against his thighs as he released the need, cried when he rained the smacks up and down her thighs, moaned when he ghosted the inside, but it was her desperate, “Please” that reached him.

He swore under his breath as she collapsed over his thighs, her torso jerking with her breaths. He’d lost control. The knowledge swamped him. He never lost control. A man couldn’t play the games he did and lose control. And with Pet of all people. That was unforgivable. He wanted her balanced between pleasure and pain, aching and wanting. He didn’t want her anywhere else. He never wanted her afraid of him.

Resting his palm on her ass, he rubbed soothingly, gentling her with quiet touches, giving her time to relax. He was the stronger one. The dominant. The one she had to be able to trust. His fingers slipped between her legs. The muslin was wet with her excitement. Deep inside him his demons stirred. Yes.

Before he could block it, possessiveness surged through him. This was what he wanted; this was what he longed for; this was his woman; this was his. He couldn’t stop himself from turning her over, lifting her up, pulling her flushed face closer to his, staring into her wide eyes, breathing deep of her scent as he took in that initial reaction to his cock pushing against her pussy. The acceptance. The excitement. The utter need.

“This is why,” he whispered against her lips as he rocked beneath her her, “you need to stay away from me.”

Her hands cupped his face. Her mouth bit at his as she pulled him closer. “This is why I won’t.”

The truth so simple, so impossible, hung between them.

His mouth opened over hers. He wanted her instant response. What he got was her resistance and even that was right. He nibbled at her lips.


She shook her head and smiled. He brought his hand up to her chin, gripping tightly so she couldn’t escape. Squeezing gently until her stubbornness gave, and her mouth parted. She tasted as sweet as she had the other day, but she also tasted hot and wild as a part of her she hadn’t even recognized, that he hadn’t allowed himself to believe existed, stepped into the world for the first time. She tasted like pure, beautiful lust. His cock throbbed between them, aching and hard. Desire rode his resolve just as hard.

In another time and place, she’d been his, and in another time and place she would be his, but in this time, in this world, all they could have was this moment. This kiss. Her fingers dug into his chest, eight points of pressure through his shirt, another bond. He ran his tongue over the inside of her lips lightly, teasingly, bringing passion past what she thought she should be, bringing out who she was.

She didn’t sit as straight in his lap. He twisted slightly, letting her fall against him slightly, a soft, nearly imperceptible surrender. He took it for what it was, awareness.

“Yes,” he muttered against her lips, “just like that. Give yourself to me.”

“I don’t want to,” she whispered back.


He kissed her harder, pushing those words back into her mouth with his tongue, nibbling at her resistance with his lips, molding her into compliance with the soft drag of his nails down her spine. She gasped when his fingers grazed the hollow, smiled when with the slightest of pressure he seduced the last of her resistance and tempted her curiosity. She wanted to know where this between them could lead. Fuck. So did he.

He took another kiss, pressing harder, pushing stronger, driving her faster than he knew she would comfortably go, but he only had the now, and he wanted all he could cram into it because as soon as this meekness vanished, she was going to be pissed as hell.

“Kiss me back,” he ordered.

“Make me,” she ordered right back.

Oh, she was a wild one. Fisting his hand in her hair, he pulled her head back, staring down into those eyes. They were always full of determination and passion, but it was different now. She was focused on him.

“Do you need me to?” He’d give her that excuse if she needed it.

She stared at him for a minute as she processed the question before shaking her head. To his shock, the fingers digging into his chest opened flat, and her palm slid up over his shoulders, and her fingertips were against his nape and he felt those nails dig in the way he liked, pulling him down into her soft embrace “No. Not at all.”

Her lips pressed against his inexpertly, all awkward enthusiasm, and it was his turn to moan. It would be so much fun to train her. Making love to her wouldn’t be the same as making love to a whore. She wouldn’t be doing it for money. Her cooperation wouldn’t be guaranteed and that wildness in her, depending on how well he handled it, would either work for him or against him. The challenge titillated his senses, the possibilities, his desire, the potential, his need. He wanted to consume her from the inside out, own her, mark her, love her. The last drew him up short.

He broke off the kiss, realizing with a start he was breathing as hard as she was, felt as drugged as she looked, and that just rattled him more. He never lost control. And the last place he should be losing it was here. With this woman.

Liar. His heart screamed. He caught her chin again, holding her gaze to his. She should have looked shattered. She just looked fucking beautiful, confident and, damn it all, determined.


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