Page 54 of Duke

I pictured him naked, which was a mental image hot enough to make my thighs clench together. But if I thought about his cock? His fingers? The things his tongue had done to me?

God.

I pictured him standing in front of me in the kitchen of that apartment of his, cock in his hand, fist sliding down his shaft…teasing me into begging him to fuck me. I’ve never begged for a damn thing in my life, but I had begged him. And I’d do it again, for a chance to feel that massive dick sliding into my pussy just once more. I could probably come all over him, reach the orgasm while he was inside me—shit, he’d probably make me come twice or even three times before we were done.

But other thoughts bubbled up inside my head, unwelcome thoughts—his judgement of the way I lived my life, his accurate and brutal assessment of my sad sex life. Itwassad, wasn’t it? There was no joy in it, no passion. I couldn’t remember most of the guys I’d fucked. They all ran together, blurred into a flickering montage of half-drunk fucking, the guy finishing before I did, getting out of the bed, dressing, and leaving while I watched, frustrated, from the bed. As soon as he was gone, I’d pull out my Lelo and finish myself off.

And that was that.

I’d never had anyone look at me the way Duke looked at me. I’d never had anyone touch me the way he did either, or kiss me that way. The orgasms he’d given me…? They were the most intense I’d ever felt.

I wanted him.

Goddammit, I wanted him.

I wanted to be in bed with him, a string of condoms on the side table, and an entire weekend with nothing to do, nowhere to go, just Duke and me naked together, fucking until neither of us could move.

My fingers drifted down between my thighs, almost of their own volition. I pictured his eight-pack abs, his pecs, his brawny arms and burly shoulders, the dusting of ginger pubes around his heavy balls, his enormous, cock standing flat against his belly, thick as my wrist and just begging for my fingers to wrap around it, begging for my lips, for my tongue to taste it, begging for my pussy to swallow it deep.

I could almost feel him, smell him, and sense him. My fingers were flying, the orgasm reaching critical mass.

“God, Duke,” I whispered. “I’m gonna come…”

And then, as the orgasm rolled through me, I felt his lips on mine, felt his hand join mine, and felt his fingers take over. My eyes flew open, and there he was, leaning over the tub, naked and real, touching me, fingering me to orgasm and kissing me senseless. I couldn’t possibly fight it, could only fly off the face of the world as his tongue scoured my mouth and tangled with my tongue, could only gasp helplessly as the climax tore through me, my hips flying, water splashing everywhere. Pleasure was a wildfire inside me, and the heat in his eyes made it even better, the feel of his fingers swirling around my clit intensifying the ecstatic rush of bliss.

I came, and I came, and I came.

My eyes didn’t leave Duke’s as I whimpered through the orgasm.

“Say my name again,” he growled.

“Duke,” I whispered.

His expression was dark and hot and hungry. “Can you stand?”

I shook my head, still trembling head to toe. “Not—not yet.”

He snagged the towel I’d set out on the toilet lid. Reached down, scooped me up and wrapped me in the towel in a single adroit maneuver. Carried me into the bedroom to which the bathroom was attached and tossed me onto the bed. I bounced, and the towel flew open. He lingered for a moment, staring at me.

“So goddamn beautiful,” he murmured. Then, louder: “Stay there.”

“Where would I go?” I asked, not all sarcastic. “And besides, my legs are still shaking too much to walk.”

His smile was pleased, and then he pivoted, vanished into the bathroom, and returned with condoms in one hand and the shotgun in the other. The gun he leaned near the bed, and the condoms he tossed on a bedside table, keeping one square packet in his hand, which I saw he’d already ripped open. This he tossed onto my belly as he climbed onto the bed.

“Open your legs for me, sweetheart,” he ordered, his voice an irresistible snarl.

“I—I already came,” I protested. “I just want you.”

“You’ll have all of me you can take,” he answered, “and then some. But I need another taste of your pussy first. So open up.”

I had no idea what came over me then, but I snapped my thighs together and smirked at him. “No,” I whispered.

He stopped on all fours, and then reared back on his knees. “No?” He sounded genuinely puzzled.

I was breathless, then. “Make me.”

He laughed, then, a predatory sound. “You sure that’s how you wanna play it, Princess?”