Page 26 of Hawthorne

Not even the freezing water running down my body is enough to make my hard-on go away. Not when that image of her plump lips pressed tightly around her finger keeps haunting me.

She’d look gorgeous sucking on my dick, too.

“I’m a bloody pervert,” I grumble, letting my forehead slowly hit the cold tile of the shower.

With my hand choking my cock in a tight hold, I let the thoughts of her consume me.

To be thinking about her in this way while stroking myself is the lowest of the low. But I can’t help myself. With her kind eyes that shine bright so easily, often focused on me and that small beauty mark on her defined jaw right under that pink juicy mouth…Gorgeous.

It’d be heaven to have her tongue swirling around the tip and her dishevelled hair tangled around my hand.

“Yes,” I grunt.

That full chest pressed against mine, and her legs wrapped around my waist.

“Argh!” My hand speeds up in accordance with the wild images taking over my mind.

The problem is, after tonight, my desire and thoughts will be running wild.

The need to feel her, to explore her body, to make her moan and come, is excruciating. I want to listen to her moan my name repeatedly while her back arches, pressing those perfect tits onto my sternum as she lets go.

My body shudders at the image, and a tight pressure travels from the base of my spine to my testicles, making me come.

It takes me a couple of minutes to get a hold of myself, control my irregular breathing and relax the tension from my muscles.

“Bloody hell,” I exhale, the adrenaline of the orgasm slowly wearing me out.

It’s going to be fucking torture living with her.

For the first time in my life, there’s a woman out there making me go mad with desire, and it doesn’t sit well with me.

I’ve always liked to be in control of myself and my actions, but she makes me want to throw it all away and get lostinher.

I need to get a grip. I am Vincent Hawthorne, a fucking duke, and there’s no one in this world powerful enough to make me lose my mind.

After two hours of rolling around in the bed, sleep continues to evade me. That’s why, through the wee hours into the morning, I’m still in the office, going through the paperwork of one of the companies my aunt left me.

Dux Vinum.

There’s not much I can do at this hour, but the merging process of the winery to Hawthorne Corporation is already in motion, and rereading the paperwork is always important so as not to let any issue go unscathed.

The wine business was something my grandfather gave my aunt, while the nutmeg shares stayed with my father. With it and by slowly buying more shares anonymously from the Crown, he was able to turn it into a bigger company. Together, we are the main exporters of nutmeg in the world.

Adding the nutmeg to the renewable energy investments as our gross income,Dux Vinumbarely reaches 1% of it in our company, but it’s my family’s…and I intend to make it strive just like my father’s businesses have.

With sleep finally intruding, I start to gather the paperwork in its original folder, ready to go to bed.

Except, as I place it under a stack of envelopes, a couple fall to the ground. I’m ready to leave them be until the next morning when the familiar cursive catches my attention.

“What the...”

Crouching down, I pick it up. It’s my aunt’s handwriting, and it’s addressed to me. Henry never told me there were unopened letters, besides the will.

Turning it around, the wax seal confirms it. It’s hers.

Losing no time, I break the seal and open it.

Immediately, I notice a small envelope inside accompanied by a written paper. Taking the second envelope first, I notice, on the other side, Camilla’s name in cursive.

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