Page 44 of Duke's Daring Bookworm
He brought his thumb up to my clit and rubbed it slowly. His gentle movements were such a contrast to his earlier roughness that it made me dizzy. Or maybe that was just him—us.
“Hm. My daring little bookworm. Took everything I gave you and begged for more.” He kept up his slow pace, barely grazing that spot inside me on every other pass, like he wanted to tease me instead of make me come.
I shook my head, not even sure at this point what he said. I needed him to move more. Faster. Harder.
I tried to grind myself on his hand, but he held my hips tight against him, making me take him at this slow pace.
“Duke, please,” I begged.
“Shh, baby, I know what you need.” He kept his slow teasing. “You liked it rough, but this little pussy of yours is weeping just for me. Let me take care of it for you.”
I moaned. Pressure gathered in me like slow-moving lavabuilding up steam, pushing me higher and higher until it exploded through me, pouring out in a torrent of liquid heat, flooding my every sense until all I could do was cry out and clutch at Duke’s shirt.
“That’s it. Ride it out.” He didn’t stop, and the heat kept flowing through me, building into another eruption. “Good job taking it. Such a good fucking girl coming on my fingers.”
I whimpered when the sensations became too much, my body protesting more stimulation. His movement slowed and then stopped. He pulled his hand from me and brought one finger up to his mouth, sucking it clean before touching the other one to my lips.
“Taste yourself,” he commanded, and I obeyed.
Chapter Fifteen
My cock hung soft and exposed out of my pants in the middle of my office, like I had no sense. Hell, I didn’t. Not now. The saliva on it from Lily’s blow job cooled, the sensation becoming uncomfortable, and I didn’t want to move from this spot ever again because she curled up in my arms, the smell of her pleasure still lingering on my fingers.
“Duke,” she said tentatively. “We need to talk about what just happened.”
Fuck.
This was it. She’d had enough. I was too rough, too demanding, too much.
I swallowed hard, bracing myself for what she had to say.
“Okay.” I helped her sit up. She didn’t move from my lap, though, and I selfishly clung to her, taking advantage of whatever time she gave me.
“We have safe words. Yes?” That was… unexpected.
“Yes,” I said cautiously, unsure of where she was going with this.
“And a safe move, in case we can’t talk.” She put on her best stern face, which fell far short of stern and landed somewhere around adorable.
“Yes.” I still couldn’t follow her train of thought, but she didn’t pull away from me. Instead, her hands played with my shirt and her warm weight pressed into me. Maybe… maybe it wasn’t over.
“Great, then you need to stop treating me like I’m breakable. You need to trust me.” She poked me in the chest with the word ‘trust.’ “If I didn’t want you to be rough with me like that, I would have tapped out.”
She paused and took a deep breath, like she had to gather herself for more.
“I liked it, a lot. I want you to be rough with me sometimes. It was… I like that you were so turned on by me you couldn’t keep control of yourself. I trust you, and I know that if I used my safe word, you would stop.”
I trust you. I didn’t think she had any idea how much those words were a balm to me. I swallowed past the lump forming in my throat and pulled her closer to me.
“You need to trust me. You need to trust yourself.” She didn’t melt into me like I’d hoped, but she didn’t move from my lap, either.
Fuck.
I didn’t know how to deal with this.
“I do trust you.” I didn’t say the important part—that I didn’t trust myself.
“No, you don’t, or you wouldn’t have felt guilty about what we just did.”
