Page 4 of Duke
“You were blindfolded, how could you tell?”
I shrugged, smirking. “I counted their voices, and heard their different footsteps.”
“And you can take on all three of them, can you?” Skeptical, sarcastic.
I stood up to my full height, which got her attention. I’m six-six and two-eighty, and there’s not an ounce of fat on me. And believe me, she fuckin’ noticed. There was no mistaking the way her eyes raked up and down my body several times, and then she blinked, shook her head, and looked away, those pretty pale cheeks blushing scarlet.
“Yeah, Fancy. I’m thinkin’ they only brought three guys, and that was their second mistake.”
“What was the first?”
“Not killing me outright,” I said. “’Cause now I’m inconvenienced. I’ve got a headache, and that makes me cranky. I’m hungry, which makes me hangry, and when I get hangry I tend to lose a bit of rationality and self-restraint. And they only brought three guys? They’re going to wish they had a whole lot more.”
She stared up at me, and her gaze reflected equal parts attraction, fascination, and revulsion.
I heard the screen door squeal, then footsteps on the floor above us, and then on the stairs.
I winked at Temple. “Fun’s about to start, honey-buns. You just sit there and be your pretty, innocent little self. Let them come in, and donotlook at me. Then, when I give you the signal, you get your sexy ass out of the way.”
She looked panicked. “Wh—what’s the signal?”
“When I start hitting people, obviously.”
I started to turn away.
“Wait!” she called out.
I turned back, quirked an eyebrow. “What’s up?”
“What’s your name?”
I gave her my signature panty-melter grin. “Name’s Duke Silver.”
Snagging the barbell from the rack, I hefted it, swung it around a few times, and then positioned myself near the door as the footsteps clomped down the stairs.
The lock clicked, the doorknob twisted.
Temple sat frozen on the floor, like a deer caught in headlights and then, in the moments before the door swung open, she shook her hair out, fluffed it, and unbuttoned her blouse to show a cock-hardening amount of plump ivory cleavage.
A little too effective, since it cost me several seconds delay—I was staring too, right when the three cocksuckers ambled through the door with their guns at the ready.
Great, now I have to fight with hard-on.
2: CATCH ME IF YOU CAN
Duke Silver? Really?
The big, gorgeous bastard looked like he’d stepped off a Jerry Bruckheimer movie set, the kind where there were explosions, big tits, and a muscle-bound oaf with more brawn than brains. So far we were batting two for three, because I had big tits and he fit the muscular moron bill to the T. I guess the explosions were still to come.
And then he had to look like a fucking movie star—the angular cheekbones, the craggy, sharp jawline, those cornflower-blue eyes? Then there was his hair. I got all twitchy and weak in the knees for his hair. True natural red hair, a Ron Weasley orange. Except Duke’s hair was thick and wavy, almost curly, and he had it been severely undercut, the sides buzzed to the scalp, with the top left long enough to pull back in a ponytail.
And if his hair made me gaga, his body did worse things to me—his body made me flat-out stupid, is what it did. Think Arnold Schwarzenegger in his prime, and you’ll have a rough idea of how Duke Silver was built. A little leaner, though, not quite as bulky as Arnie was in his Mr. Olympia days, but only by a hair. Scary thing was, Duke didn’t move like a bodybuilder—he moved like a tiger. Smooth, easy, lithe, graceful, and viciously powerful. And he had…it.That magnetism, the kind that just draws your attention to him against your will. I mean, my mom is Jane Kennedy, so I’ve met some of the biggest movie stars in the world, and was on first name basis with a lot of them, sweet old Arnie included. Duke? He just had a presence that could put any of them to shame.
But there was something else about him that wasn’t like the A-listers I knew. Those guys didn’t…scare me. That was it, wasn’t it? Duke Silver made me shudder, and not in adamn I’d like to fuck him sillysort of way, but in the way you’d shudder in terror if you suddenly found yourself face to face with a full-grown and hungry Bengal tiger. That kind of shudder. The involuntarily wetting of your pants kind of shudder.
I should go back and qualify that thought, though. Yes, I really did want to fuck Duke Silver until he forgot his name. Or, more accurately, untilIforgot his name and mine both. And that pissed me off. I was Temple Kennedy. I crooked my finger, and dozens of rich, beautiful, successful men would drop to their knees and do whatever I told them to, simply because of my name, because of what I looked like, and who my parents are. I wasn’t affected by any of it. I’ve walked the red carpet for the Oscars, the Golden Globes, the Emmy’s, the Tony’s…I’ve been interviewed byRolling Stone,E!,Entertainment Weekly,Vogue,People, and have been on the cover ofUS Weeklyalmost as frequently as Kim Kardashian. No maneverleft me feeling weak in the knees.
Yet there were my stupid, traitor knees, getting all wobbly. Good thing I was sitting down.