Page 72 of Judging Duke

I laughed. “I don’t break my promises. I meant what I said, but you’ll only need your ten card.”

“Then why are we sitting here and not back in my bedroom with my dick in your arse?”

I wasn’t expecting him to be so forward, but this was Duke. Confident and cocky. That was usually me.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” His lips were mere millimetres from mine, a hint of garlic on his breath from the lunch we’d eaten earlier.

He leant back on his hands, his legs dangling from the rock. I could see his erection forming in his shorts. They weren’t quite as form-fitting as mine, though, and I knew he preferred going commando. If he wasn’t careful, everyone would see, not that I thought he would mind.

Unable to resist, I reached out and stroked his cock, feeling it grow at my touch.

“Worried it won’t fit?” he asked, smirking.

“Not in the slightest. I can take you.”

“You know, if there weren’t so many people about, I’d whip it out and have you suck it. Maybe we should still do that?”

“If there weren’t so many people about, I’d let you fuck me here and now, but there are and we can’t.”

“Time to go then, don’t you think?” He sat straighter, but his erection was still clearly visible.

I couldn’t resist one last stroke and slipped my hand up the leg of his shorts, touching the head almost peeking out. His dick was long and short shorts were risky in his aroused state.

Slick precum oozed from his slit, and I was tempted to lick it.

Too many people around made it impossible. Neither of us wanted to be arrested, but thankfully, no one was close enough to see.

This small act had me more excited than if Ihadsucked him.

“Didn’t Barbara say there was a more secluded beach somewhere around?” Duke asked.

“I believe she did. Maybe we should have a look?”

“Another day. All I want now is you and that gorgeous arse.”

He stood and adjusted himself, his shirt barely disguising his hard-on. I tucked my shirt into the front of my shorts, hiding mine from any prying eyes.

We walked with haste, practically jogging up the stairs and marching to the villa.

“Duke, Simon. Will you be joining us for dinner?” Cyril asked as we entered the hallway, skidding to a halt.

“We’ll give it a miss, thanks,” I said hurriedly. “Packing to do, you know? We leave tomorrow.”

“Of course, of course. Well, if you need anything, you know where we are. We’ll be on the terrace, almost under your window. If you get my meaning.”

He winked and strolled through the house, his hands in his pockets, whistling a nameless tune.

“Well, he wasn’t exactly subtle,” I said and blew out a breath.

Duke shrugged. “I don’t care how loud you are. I want you shouting my name at the top of your voice. Turns me the fuck on.”

He loped up the stairs, two at a time, the muscles in his long, toned legs flexing with each stride. I knew he worked out from seeing him at the gym where the hulk of a guy, Marc, had split us up.

What was his relationship to Duke? I’d have to ask, but right now I had more pressing things on my mind.

I followed him down the hallway, where he stood by the door to my room.

“What’s wrong with your room?” I asked.

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