Page 84 of Duke It Out
I shuffle up onto my elbows as he unfastens the kilt so it drops to the floor and he’s standing in front of me, his cock thick and jutting upwards. I reach towards him and wrap my hand around his length, feeling the silken skin over the steel-hard flesh. He’s hot and heavy in my palm as I brush the beading of pre-come at the tip with my thumb.
His breath hitches and his hand covers mine as it rises and falls, stroking him.
“If you keep that up, this will be over before it begins,” he says, his voice thick. His jaw clenches with restraint.
With a wicked smile I take him in my mouth, adjusting myself on the bed, reaching out to steady myself.
“Fuck, Edie,” he grits out, his hands in my hair. “I mean it.”
I pull back, letting my tongue swirl slowly and deliciously around the swollen tip for a moment, revelling in the feeling of being in control. I look up at him and he laughs for a second. “Enough.”
He pulls away for a moment, reaching into a bedside drawer to produce a condom.
And then he’s over me, his body caging mine against the mattress. I can feel the solid heat of him pressing against my entrance as he kisses me then pauses for a moment, his eyes searching mine.
“Are you sure?”
I nod, my hands sliding up his solid arms to his shoulders. “I want this. I want you.”
I look at him for a moment – this beautiful, complicated man who’s been haunting my dreams for months. This is wrong for a million different reasons, and tonight – for this one night – I don’t care.
He pushes into me in one long slow thrust that steals the breath from my lungs. I feel impossibly full, stretched around him. He holds still, giving me time to accommodate him, but I can see the strain in his face, the effort it’s taking him not to move.
“You’re so tight,” he groans. “So hot, baby.”
I roll my hips experimentally and he groans again, the sound vibrating through his chest. Then he begins to move, drawing himself almost all the way out before thrusting back in, setting a rhythm that has me gasping with each stroke.
The friction is exquisite, his cock hitting spots inside me that make stars burst behind my eyelids. I dig my nails into his shoulders, meeting him thrust for thrust, my body building quickly towards another peak.
He shifts, changing his angle slightly, and I cry out, pleasure spiralling through me, building until I’m trembling on the edge again.
“Come for me, Edie,” he commands, shifting as his handslides between us to brush the edge of my clit. “I want to feel you come on my cock.”
His words would have been enough. I come hard, clenching against him. He follows moments later, buried deep, his release pulsing inside me as he growls my name against my throat.
We collapse together, breathing hard, sweat-slicked skin against skin. For a long moment there’s nothing but the sound of our breathing and the distant music from the ballroom downstairs.
Reality should be crashing back now. I should remember all the reasons this is a terrible idea – Anna reading the diaries, Fenella’s cutting comments, the vast gulf between his world and mine. I should be calculating my escape route, just like he did that night in Manhattan.
But as he rolls over, taking me with him so I’m tucked against his chest, all I can think is that for the first time in months I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
32
RORY
She fits perfectly against me,her hair spread against the pillow like a flame. I trace a finger along the curve of her shoulder, watching goosebumps rise in its wake. She stirs but doesn’t wake, her breathing deep and even.
The fire is down to embers now, casting the room in a soft glow. Outside I can hear the last stragglers from the ball making their way to bed. Laughter and snatches of conversation drift up through the part-open window.
I should be satisfied. I’ve had her, again, and it was every bit as intoxicating as the last time. More so, even, because now I know her. Not just her body, but the sharp wit and the humour. Her kindness and the way she sees people for who they are.
But instead of satisfaction I feel an ache of something dangerously close to longing, and that’s something I can’t allow.
She makes a soft sound in her sleep, her hand curling against my chest as if she’s staking a claim. I cover it with my own, looking at her sleeping face. This woman who isn’tafraid to challenge me, who stood her ground when I was at my most imperious. Somehow, she sees this place not as a burden, but as something magical.
And I almost drove her away with my suspicion and my pride. I’ve spent most of my life guarding myself against disappointment – from my father, from the estate, from the burden of responsibility I never wanted but couldn’t escape. I learned early to expect the worst, to prepare for betrayal. It’s an exhausting way to live.
But Edie doesn’t seem to operate from that place of caution. She throws herself headlong into life, into stories, into adventure. She’s breathed life into this place as she’s written its history.
