Chapter 31: Ace's fingers tighten in CC's hair as the blonde chokes on the thick strap, tears streaking her mascara when she glares up through wet lashes. 'You win,' CC rasps, her lips swollen from the forceful deepthroating, 'I'll scream it from the fucking bell tower tomorrow - just fuck me properly tonight.' Ace flips her over the center console with a savage grin, hiking CC's skirt up to reveal the bare, glistening proof of her surrender.
The truck door slammed shut, sealing them in the stale, gasoline-scented air of the cab. The engine’s low thrum vibrated through the cracked vinyl seats. CC was curled against the passenger door, shoulders shaking, silent sobs wracking her small frame. Tears streaked her flushed cheeks, dampening the sleeve of her dress where she’d pressed her face.
Ace gripped the steering wheel, knuckles bone-white. The image of CC bent over the professor’s desk, her wetness dripping onto the wood, was seared into her retinas. So was the look of stunned shame and confusion on her face afterwards. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, broken only by CC’s hitched breathing and the truck’s idle.
Ace couldn’t stand it. The vulnerability, the tears, the sheer fucking complication of it. All of it collided with the raw, possessive heat still burning low in her gut. She’d lost control. Again. Because of her.
"Stop crying," Ace ground out, the command rough, lacking its usual swagger. It sounded defensive, even to her own ears.
CC flinched but didn’t stop. A small, wounded sound escaped her throat. "You… you humiliated me," she whispered, her voice thick and trembling. "Anyone could have…"
"Hell of a time to develop a conscience about public indecency," Ace snapped, turning in her seat. The movement was abrupt, violent. "After you shoved your bare fucking cunt in my face for twenty minutes? You wanted that. You fucking begged for it." The memory of CC’s desperate plea – Harder! Don’t stop! – echoed, fueling Ace’s frustration. "Don’t sit there crying now like it was something I forced on you."
CC lifted her head, her green eyes swimming with fresh tears but burning with something else now. Anger. A spark of the defiance Ace had seen flare in her dorm, then smolder beneath the desk. "I didn't want to be… to be treated like that!" she choked out.
Ace barked a harsh, disbelieving laugh. "Like what? Like the wet, desperate little slut you were acting like? You weren't studying, Chloe. You were fucking advertising." She leaned closer, invading CC’s space, the scent of her tears mixing with the lingering musk of sex and vanilla. "What did you think would happen? That I'd just politely ignore it? That I'd keep pretending we're just friends while you flash your cunt at me?"
"I wasn't—" CC started, but Ace cut her off.
"No? Then what? Weeks of you jumping me, grinding on me, biting me, practically ripping my clothes off? Saying those filthy fucking things?" Ace’s voice dropped, low and dangerous. "And then you flinch away the next day. You pretend it didn't happen. You pretend you don't want it." A wave of bitter resentment, weeks deep, surged up. "You flirt with fucking Ben at that party. Smiling all over him. Making me watch." The memory of CC laughing, touching Ben's arm, while Ace stood rigid nearby, was suddenly razor-sharp. "But I'm the one you let fuck you raw on a professor's desk?"
CC’s face paled, then flushed crimson. The tears stopped abruptly. Her hands clenched into fists in her lap. "That's what this is about?" she hissed, her voice trembling not with sorrow, but with fury. "You're jealous?"
"Jealous?" Ace spat the word like poison. "Fuck you. I'm tired. Tired of your fucking games. Of you using me when it suits your twisted little experiment, then pretending I don't exist. You don't get to act fucking jealous," she snarled, leaning in until their faces were inches apart, "after weeks of denying this exists." She gestured violently between them. "After weeks of pretending I don't exist, except when you want a quick fuck or a fucking thrill!"
The word 'jealous' seemed to detonate something in CC. The wounded vulnerability vanished, replaced by a raw, reckless fury that matched Ace’s own. Before Ace could react, CC lunged.
Not away. Towards.
Her small hand shot out, not to push Ace away, but to yank. Fingers clawed at the button of Ace’s jeans, ripped at the zipper. The rasp of the metal was obscenely loud in the confined space.
"What the fuck are you—" Ace started, grabbing CC’s wrist, but CC twisted with surprising strength born of adrenaline and rage. She shoved Ace back hard against the driver's door handle, the impact knocking the breath from Ace's lungs.
"Shut up!" CC snarled. Her eyes were wild, desperate, blazing with a chaotic mix of emotions Ace couldn't untangle. "You arrogant bitch!" With both hands now, she tore at Ace’s jeans and boxers, shoving them roughly down over Ace’s hips, past her thighs. Cool air hit Ace’s skin.
And then CC saw it. The harness, low on Ace’s hips, the dark silicone curve of the strap-on jutting out. It wasn't huge, but thick, veined, intimidating in its rigid purpose. CC stared at it for a split second, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face – fear? Hunger? Defiance?
Then she moved.
With a guttural sound that wasn’t quite a word, CC shoved Ace harder against the door, lowered her head, and took the silicone cock into her mouth. Not gently. Not hesitantly. She engulfed it, forcing it deep into her throat with a brutal, punishing urgency.
Ace gasped, a ragged intake of breath that turned into a choked groan. The sudden, shocking heat and pressure were overwhelming. CC’s lips stretched obscenely wide around the girth. She gagged immediately, her throat muscles clenching violently around the invading silicone, a wet, choking sound erupting from her. Tears sprang anew to her eyes, spilling over and running down her cheeks.
But she didn’t stop. Didn’t pull back. She pushed forward, driving the cock deeper, forcing her throat to open. Her nose pressed against the coarse fabric of Ace’s harness. Gag. Swallow. Gag again. Saliva dripped copiously, slicking the shaft, running down onto Ace’s thighs, onto the worn vinyl seat.
"Fuck!" Ace gasped, her head thudding back against the window. The sensation was brutal, almost painful in its intensity. CC’s fury was a tangible thing, translated into this savage, self-punishing act. She was choking herself on Ace’s cock, tears and spit mingling, her slender body trembling with the effort. Each desperate, gagging swallow sent shocks of intense sensation through Ace. She watched, mesmerized and horrified, as CC struggled, her blonde hair spilling forward, her body convulsing slightly with the effort to take it, to dominate the instrument Ace used to dominate her.
CC pulled back, gasping for air, a thick strand of saliva connecting her swollen lips to the glistening tip. She coughed, her chest heaving, her face a mask of tears and furious determination. She locked eyes with Ace, green meeting stormy blue, a world of pain and defiance and unspoken need screaming in that look. Then she dove down again, taking Ace impossibly deep, her throat working furiously, the sounds wet and desperate and utterly obscene.
Ace’s control, already frayed to nothing, snapped. Her hand tangled in CC’s hair, not to guide, but to hold her there. The other hand gripped the steering wheel so hard the plastic creaked. She felt the relentless suction, the frantic movements of CC’s tongue along the shaft, the convulsive tightening of her throat. It was punishment. It was possession. It was a furious, wordless scream.
"Christ, CC," Ace groaned, her voice ragged. The heat was coiling, impossibly tight, low in her own belly. The sight, the sounds, the raw, brutal taking… it was unraveling her. "You fucking… you can't even…"
CC pulled off again, gasping, coughing, her breath rasping. Her lips were red and swollen. She looked wrecked, furious, and impossibly desirable. "Shut. Up," she spat, chest heaving. "Just… shut up and let me…" She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to. She lowered her head again, her movements slightly less violent now but no less intense, her mouth hot and demanding, sucking hard, her tongue swirling around the head before plunging down again.
Ace watched her, the fight draining out of her, replaced by a dawning, terrifying understanding. This wasn't just about anger. This wasn't just about proving a point. CC was consuming her, trying to erase the confusion, the shame, the fear, with this raw, physical act. She was claiming Ace in the only way her tangled emotions knew how.
The tension that had knotted Ace's shoulders since dragging CC out of the lecture hall finally broke. Not into calm, but into a profound, weary revelation. Her grip in CC’s hair loosened, becoming almost… tender. She smoothed a damp strand back from CC’s forehead as the smaller girl worked her, her movements becoming almost rhythmic, almost focused, despite the tears still leaking from her clenched eyes.
"Fuck," Ace breathed, the word barely audible over the truck’s idle and CC’s wet, sucking sounds. She stared down at the crown of golden hair bobbing in her lap, at the sheer, desperate vulnerability and ferocious will colliding in the act. The words spilled out, raw and unguarded, a truth she hadn’t even fully admitted to herself until this searing moment of shared wreckage. "I only did it… the desk… I only did it to make you snap."
CC froze. Her mouth stilled around the base of the silicone cock. She slowly, slowly pulled back, the shaft sliding slick and wet from her lips with a soft, lewd pop. She looked up at Ace, her chin glistening, her eyes wide and unfathomably deep. Tears and saliva mixed on her flushed skin. The fury was gone, replaced by a profound, breathless shock. Comprehension dawned, raw and terrifying.
She stared at Ace. Ace stared back. The only sound was the steady thrum of the engine, a fragile lifeline in the sudden, echoing silence that filled the cab, thicker and more suffocating than before. The truth hung between them, naked and undeniable, shimmering in the tear tracks on CC’s face and the stunned vulnerability in Ace’s eyes. The picnic blanket on the tailgate lay forgotten, bathed in the indifferent glow of the truck's interior light. They were miles from safety, adrift on a sea they’d churned themselves.