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Raya

The moment I step inside Ace’s place, the scent of roses surrounds me, assaulting my nose with their saccharine aroma. I don’t care much for flowers, but I like what they represent. Judging by all the bouquets spilling across the kitchen table and the countertops, Ace definitely had something important to say.

I look around, hiding my smile as Ace walks down the hallway. “What’s all this?”

He leans against the island, watching me with something soft in his eyes. “It’s an apology.”

“For what?” I ask, even though I already know.

“My mother,” he says. “She was outta pocket.”

I look down, swallowing the smug grin threatening to spread across my face. I don’t know what happened or if he talked to her, but he obviously chose me over her.

Bitch, I did it.

But before I internally celebrate, I lift my head and meet his gaze. Something in me wavers when I see how… gutted he looks. He must be struggling with this.

Sometimes I forget lots of people actually love their mothers.

“You don’t have to apologize for her,” I say softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He rounds the island to come to me, slipping his fingers beneath my chin, tipping my head back. “I’m still sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

I lick my lips. “What do I deserve, Ace?”

His lips crash into mine. The kiss is deep and consuming, his tongue stroking mine, his hands gripping my waist, pulling me in like he hates the few inches of distance between us.

He’s panting when he breaks the kiss to tell me, “Come on.”

I let him pull me by the wrist, past the flowers, past the apology, past the nagging ache in my chest I don’t have a name for.

The second the bedroom door shuts behind us, Ace lifts me off my feet. I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck, and he carries me over to the bed like I weigh nothing.

“I love you,” he murmurs as he lays me down, pressing slow kisses to my throat and down my collarbone. He undresses me quickly, then himself, finally settling between my legs.

He cups my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples. The way he touches me—something about it feels different. The way his hands map my body like he’s memorizing me. The way he’s looking at me; he looks like he adores me. When he finally slides inside me, it’s slow and deep and enlightening .

I don’t feel like I’m being used.

Mind you, I like when Ace uses me. Sometimes a man just needs to get off, and I like to be the one who gets him there, by any means necessary. But I like this, too. It doesn’t feel as familiar, but I feel…whole.

His forehead presses against mine. Our bodies are locked so close, I can feel his heartbeat in my bones. He holds me like I’ll disappear outside of his grip. His lips dot sweet kisses on every part of me he can reach.

I know we’ve both said it, but I feel it now. Love . It’s a scary fucking thing to feel it like this. I would literally die for it. He doesn’t know that yet, what he just unleashed, but he will, and I hope he enjoys the full magnitude of my commitment to loving him the way we both deserve.

I cum first, of course, because he loves me, and then he follows behind me. After, he big spoons me, draping his arm over my waist, making sure he’s still touching me. Because I’m his. I feel content like this. Like I finally have what I always wanted.

Then he says, “Come to the White House with me.”

I lift my head, surprised. “Seriously?”

“Of course.” He nudges me until I turn toward him, smiling brightly.

“I want you there with me,” he says.

“Then I’ll be there.”

He doesn’t react, which is strange. “There’s just one thing, though.”

I stiffen. He better not ask me to share the space with his raggedy mama.

“What is it?”

He hesitates. “You’ll have to take down your TikTok videos.”

I stare at him, blinking in confusion. “Why?”

“There will be some media there. Press or whatever. My name out there. Your name out there.”

Anger surges through me, but I quickly get it under control. This is why I love him. I have to always remind myself of that. I didn’t choose some fuckboy with nothing to lose. I chose a man with a future, someone who cares about his image and his legacy. If I wanna be part of that, I have to tighten up.

I shift closer, bringing my body flush with his as the sense of a new opportunity dawns on me.

“But babe…I always saw myself monetizing my TikTok one day. To supplement my income.”

His expression shifts as he thinks about that. I can see it in his eyes, the way he’s considering all angles, weighing his options.

After a long moment, he nods. “I got you.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ll take care of you, monetarily. That way, you don’t have to worry about all that.”

I smile, but inside, my mind is spinning. He’s so close, but not close enough.

I wrap my arms around his neck, gazing into his eyes. “I wanna believe in you, Ace.”

His hands find my waist. “What’s stopping you?”

“You have to give me something to hold onto. I won’t feel safe otherwise.”

His brows pull together, and I think he knows what I mean.

My ring. My fucking ring , nigga.

He exhales, silent for a long time. Thinking too damn hard.

I trail a finger down his jaw. “It would be nice to be done with my father.”

“You don’t have to throw hints,” he says, his eyes going sharp. “Just say it.”

I look away, ashamed. “You’ll judge me.”

“No I won’t.” He grips my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Let me back in, Ray.”

I take a deep breath. “Fine. I want him gone. For good.”

The silence is thick. My stomach twists as I realize I might have gone too far. I might have finally scared him off.

I tighten my grip on his neck.

Letting him go isn’t an option at this point. We’ll both be dead before that happens.

I search his eyes, prepared to laugh and say I was just joking.

Then, he finally says, “I can make that happen.”

Excitement surges through me so fast it makes my head spin.

“Ace—“

“Don’t ask questions, Raya. Just know I don’t say shit I don’t mean.”

Touched, I put a hand on his cheek, wondering if I can trust this. I took it as a joke before when he mentioned rolling Daddy off a cliff, but I'm willing to let him show me he meant it.

Always actions over words.

Men get real loquacious when it's time to promise you shit. World-class orators of illusion. You have to hold their feet to the fucking fire. Make them stand on every hollow word. Make them make that shit real.

“I wanna sit on your face.”

His warm, minty breath hits my face when he bursts out laughing. “I love you, too. Aye, so you like it now?”

“I like when you do it.”

His eyes narrow as his dick hardens between us. “Then climb on.”

I shift onto my knees, the thrill of his words still buzzing through me like electricity. I can make that happen.

He shifts down a bit as I make my way on top of him. He doesn’t hesitate. His hands grip my thighs, strong and possessive, pulling me toward his face. He stares up at me with hooded eyes, but I see something else, too. Something that says I’d do anything to make you happy .

I settle onto him, pressing my knees into the mattress on either side of him, bracing my palms against the headboard. I’m ready.

The first stroke of his tongue sends a shudder through my whole body.

I exhale sharply. My head falls forward as pleasure rolls up and down my spine. His hands squeeze my thighs, fingers digging in, keeping me anchored. Not that he needs to hold me here; I’m not going anywhere .

Every flick and stroke of his tongue draws me closer to the edge. I open my eyes and lower my gaze, marveling at my good fortune of having a man who’s so damn handsome with a face so sittable. He grins up at me, and it feels like he read my mind. I don’t mind cocky Ace, though. Cocky Ace is sexy.

He taps his fingers on my thigh. “Roll your hips,” he says. “Ride my face like you ride my dick.”

Say less.

I grind against his mouth, gasping when he sucks my clit between his lips, teasing me with slow, deliberate pulls.

My man knows exactly what he’s doing.

My fingers tighten around the headboard, nails digging into the wood.

“Ace,” I moan, my voice desperate.

He groans against me, sending vibrations shooting through my core. My thighs tremble as his hand slides up my stomach and his fingers find my nipple, teasing and plucking, sending another wave of heat through me.

My head falls back as I rock against his mouth, harder and faster now. I’m coming apart, losing control, enjoying every second of it, my mind and soul free and unburdened.

The freedom feels almost as good as Ace’s mouth.

I cum hard, a sharp cry bursting from my lips, my body trembling as he licks me through it. He doesn’t stop until I’m gasping and sensitive, my fingers sliding from the headboard as my body goes limp.

He presses lazy kisses to the inside of my thigh, his grip easing a bit, but not letting me go. Looking down at him, I’m struck by the heat in his stare, and the way he licks me off his lips like I’m the best thing he ever tasted.

He loves me. He really loves me.

And I think it's healing me.