Authors: Gillian Jones
“God, that’s hot,” I utter unintentionally, slapping my hand across my mouth, because this is going sideways fast.
“‘You’re in my head. I can’t stop thinking of you,’ I say, cupping her face with my palms. Inching in closer, I inhale her scent. ‘You always smell so fucking good, baby. Tell me, E, do you taste as good?’ I ask, laying her down, my intentions clear—”
Oh fuck!
“E”?
I
knew
it!
“Oh God…
Ace
?” I blurt, cutting him off.
“
What the fuck? …
Ellie, is that…is that…
you?
”
I can’t answer him. All I can do is hang up. And I do.
I’m shaking, my body in shock.
All this time? How…how can it be? It makes sense. I get the “why”, but how…how didn’t I know?
I need to get out of here. Moving the cursor to red, I log Chanel out—permanently.
Looking around Sweet 44, taking in the chaise, the mirror, the desk, and finally the bar fridge in the corner, I nod, and give a small smile before closing the door on this scene of my life.
I just hope my decisions haven’t ended my story before I get my happily ever after.
Ellie
D
eflated, I step
into the elevator, pushing the button for the seventh floor. I lean my head against the back wall, wishing Courtney were home. She and Jax went away for the weekend to celebrate her graduation; they turned into quite the couple after their “non-date” at the movies months ago. They’ve been pretty inseparable ever since.
Man, could I ever use her advice right now, along with a few shots—or better still—bottles of tequila.
So, Jake is Ace.
And Ace is Jake.
Life is one long movie reel of fucked-up coincidences, and Faith and Karma are a tag team of bitches that no-one can deny.
Jake is Ace.
Pulling out my phone, I check it for the billionth time since leaving Breathless Whispers. Still no word from Ace, not that I was holding my breath that he’d reach out to me. Between the two of us, I’m the one who has more explaining to do. If I could muster up the courage to call, I might actually get the answer to the bazillion questions racing through my mind at warp speed.
God, what if he thinks I’m a horrible person? A cheater? A whore? Will he give me the chance to explain? Believe that I only ever got off that one time, and it turns out it was with him?
My mind plays all these questions, and more, on overload, yet I’m too afraid to reach out.
At the familiar
ding,
I’m pulled out of my panic zone and step out of the elevator onto my floor. Turning right, my footing falters when my eyes land on the one person I need most right now, the one person who can tell me if we’re going to get the ending we deserve.
The ending I want us to have, the ending I want—
with him.
Ace.
Turning towards me at the sound of my feet, our eyes clash—his eyes assessing yet smiling, mine no doubt unsure and reluctant. I freeze mid-step, my body going into some kind of reactive mode from the uncertainty of where things lie between us. Feet suddenly heavy as if encased in cement, unable to inch or step closer if I wanted to, I’m simply stuck. My heart palpitations are so strong, he must be able to see the organ itself trying to break free from the confines of my chest. My hands shake like leaves, my breathing is shallow, my mouth is desert dry.
But then I see it. I feel it.
Hope
.
With one look, that familiar feeling of Jell-O that only he elicits makes its way to my legs. And when I really look at him, that’s when I see it. That familiar smirk pulling at his mouth, his damn dimple out on the loose again, here to taunt me, to make me want to climb him so I can lick it and give it the greeting it deserves for being so bloody sexy.
But I don’t climb him, and neither of us speaks.
Like in an old Western movie, we stand facing each other, preparing for the gunfight about to happen on the seventh floor of my high-rise, waiting the other out. Who’ll be the first to draw? Who’ll be the first to broach the subject weighing on both our minds? I’m dying to speak, but I’m tongue-tied.
I’m caught up in not only the situation, but in him, his presence, the way he’s looking at me. He’s striking; I can’t take my eyes off him. His inky hair is mussed up like he’s been pulling at it for hours. His emerald eyes have a little glint in them, highlighted—of course—by those glasses that only make him hotter. His lips look especially kissable right now and I want them all over my body. Cocking my head, I let my eyes drop, taking him in from toes to nose, like he’s done to me so many times. Ace Ryan offers the promise of being one hell of a sexy thrill ride and if I could right now, then I would definitely hop on. My eyes continue to roam up and down, down and up, hopefully silently conveying how badly I want him, how badly I am hoping that he wants me too—
still
.
“Ellie.” My head snaps back to his face. There’s a surprising edge to his voice, but relief floods me, seeing a playful grin.
“Ace,” I murmur tentatively.
“And…
action,
” he calls.
Without hesitation or forethought, it’s as if we both know what to do at the mark. Breaking the mould weighing me down, my feet are released and follow my heart and mind to Ace, who’s striding towards me. Meeting in the middle, our bodies collide at full tilt, our mouths connecting with a jet-fuelled fire that’s inextinguishable, our hands roaming to touch and grip each other everywhere and anywhere we can. Pulling back, rubbing his thumb along my cheek, Ace looks at me with an intensity I feel to the bottom of my soul.
“I can’t believe it was you,” he says, and I close my eyes, working to keep the tears at bay. Placing gentle kisses over my lips, he whispers, “Don’t cry, baby.”
“I’m sorry.” I barely let my words escape, a feeling of enormous guilt consuming me for keeping this a secret from him.
Opening my eyes, we stare, communicating so much without words. Then: “Kiss me, Ellie. That’s all I need right now. I only want you.” He tugs me even closer, if that were possible. Ace and I stand, kissing one another like long-lost lovers uniting after the most painful of absences. I delight in every moment, my body relaxing with the comforting thought that everything is going work out as it should after all.
Ace pulls at my bottom lip, a move I feel between my legs. “We need to talk, E.”
“Talking is overrated,” I whisper. Then I sigh, exasperated. “But I know. We do. I have a good excuse, though, Ace,” I say, moving past him to unlock the door to my apartment.
“I have no doubts you do, sweetheart. I trust you. I’m the luckiest son of a bitch and I know it. I’m grabbing onto you and I’m never letting go. Now relax, everything will be all right,” Ace says gently, as he shuts and locks my apartment door behind us. After toeing off our shoes, he guides me to the couch and sits close beside me, resting his arm over my shoulder while our legs touch, side-by-side. Wanting to be closer, I move to straddle him instead.
“Hi,” I say softly, staring at his chest to avoid his eyes for a moment.
“Hi. You ready to talk?” he asks, tilting my head up to meet his eyes as he drops a sweet kiss on my nose.
“Hold. I’ll be right back,” I say, jumping off him and heading to the kitchen to get us two shot glasses and the tequila. “Okay.” I take a deep breath walking back into the living room. I pour and take a shot before mounting him again and offering him his own. Amused, he takes the drink.
“All set now, are we?” he chuckles.
“Yeah, I think so. It’s a little weird talking about this with you when you’re, you know…” I nod my head towards him.
“No, I don’t know,” Ace says, pulling me tighter to his chest. “Tell me.”
“When you’re Jake, but also
you
. I’ve told you some crazy stories, and I’m a bit embarrassed right now thinking of all the things I said to you when you were Jake and I was Chanel,” I admit, feeling my face turning hot.
“Ellie. Don’t be. It’s me. We can talk about anything, besides those stories were sexy as fuck. Do you know how hard you made me? Shit, woman. And to come to learn that you’re ‘Chanel’? My little dirty girl…” he laughs, running his hands over my bum and giving my cheeks a little squeeze. “Now, tell me the story of how you ended up there from the beginning, then we can get back to the tales you tell best,” he says, laughing, while pulling me in for a soothing hug and another one of those sweet kisses I love. This time, it’s my lips that reap the reward.
After another shot or two, lots of tears, and a few laughs, I get through telling Ace everything; I spill the beans about the last eight months, starting back at the very beginning. From my knee, to my mom’s situation with the sperm donor, to applying for the job with Egg Yolk Man, to the Conrads, and to Courtney and me trying to find a sexy handle and coming up with names like “Rideanne” and “Kitten.” I tell him about Destiny, about my training, about Greta, about some of the different callers I’ve experienced and finally finish the story with tonight’s adventures: where I ended my career as a Phone Sex Superhero with my favourite regular—Jake.
And the whole time, Ace is there holding me close, wiping my tears, teasing me a little. But most of all, he shows acceptance of my choices for the reasons I had to make them, as well as understanding and support for my decisions.
“Do you have any questions?” I ask, once we’ve been silent for a few minutes, his hand running through my long hair.
“Yeah, but not right now, though. Because right now, I’m too fucking hard with the idea that all this time you’ve been my fantasy and reality, wrapped up in the perfect package that is
you,
Ellie Hughes,” he says, palming my breasts over my pink cotton V-necked shirt, the telltale sign of his erection nudging my bottom. “You amaze and captivate me. I’ve fallen in love with you, Ellie. I need you, baby.”
“I love you too, Ace. So very much. Thank you for giving me the chance to explain,” I wipe away more escaping tears, “and thank you for explaining Jake’s intentions.” I kiss his jaw. “You sure there isn’t anything else you want to know right now?”
“No, E. I don’t need to know everything tonight about why you work—no,
worked—
there. But you aren’t working there ever again, though. You know this, right?” He pulls me off his chest to look at me, his tone taking on a more serious edge.
I smile. “Yes, Caveman. I quit tonight. A few days early, mind you, but yes. I’m done. My Phone Sex Superhero days are gone.”
“Thank fuck,” he says, kissing my forehead, then dragging his mouth along my cheek, before moving to cover my mouth with his. Stopping all too soon, he looks at me again—this time adoringly—and shakes his head. “I still can’t believe it’s been you all this time, dirty girl,” he laughs, and I swat his chest.
God, I love him.
He really is an amazing man.
Oh, and I take it back. I’m glad Courtney’s gone for the weekend, especially because of what happens next.
Ace
S
crewed.
Done for.
Finished.
Finito.
Fucked.
Completely fucked, and I love it.
I love her.
And I told her.
And fuck me, she loves me too.
Ellie Raine Hughes.
Chanel69.
The best distraction to ever come my way…loves me.
That knowledge alone is enough to make my dick hard for eons. Sitting here with her on my lap after she told me everything about taking the job at Breathless Whispers, her knee, her mom, the scholarship—everything—I’m even more in love with this woman, if it were possible. Her tenacity and unwillingness to give up on her dreams is admirable, even if I don’t love the idea of her having had to work in the sex trade to get there. And the need to finally claim her as mine is thundering through my system.
“I’m thinking we need to live out a few of those fantasies you told me, now that we’re face-to-face. I’ve got some dialogue for you: ‘I can’t wait to slip inside you’. To feel you, touch you, and best of all, to watch as you finally take my cock, over and over again. Maybe we could replay that masturbation sequence too? That shit brought me to my knees, picturing you doing that to yourself,” I whisper in her ear, my voice husky from the memory. She squirms on my lap, and I know my words are getting to her just as much. “Are you wet for me, Ellie? Am I going to feel how hot I make you when I touch you…here?” I ask, sliding my palm along her thigh before snaking my hand to the front where I can feel her heat. She’s wearing a pair of those sexy black tights we both love so much. Unable to control the urge to take her, I flip us, causing Ellie to yelp in surprise at the sudden position change, with her now lying on the couch underneath me.
“Ace!”
“Fuck, I love these bloody tights,” I bite out, trailing my face down to her centre while my hands move along her toned legs.
“You smell like you’re wet and ready, baby. I can’t wait to slip my cock inside you. To feel you clinging to my dick with this sweet pussy of yours.” I rub my hand along the inseam of her pants, pressing my palm into her pussy.
“Jesus,” she bites her lip. Her walnut-coloured eyes dilate with lust when I slip my hand down the front of her tights, rubbing against her core.
“So wet,” I share, after I start running two fingers along her pussy lips, coating myself with her excitement, loving the feeling of her juices as they cover my fingers. Slowly removing my hand, I hear her whimper at the loss, a sound I love. I love the pout that graces her lips. Knowing she misses my touch is empowering and sends a bloody zing right to my chest.
“You want my cock, E? You ready to feel me, greedy girl?” I ask, smirking at her reaction. Taking the glistening fingers, I rub them along my lips before bringing them to my nose. “Your smell is exquisite, baby.” Her eyes go wide as they trail the path my fingers make from my nose to my lips where my tongue darts out to join the party, licking them clean. “Mmm, perfection.” I move my hand back down for more.
Always wanting more of her.