Page 9 of Duke It Out
3
EDIE
“Can I—”I reach for my purse.
He shakes his head and tosses a roll of bills on the table. “Honour forbids.”
He takes my hand, lacing our fingers together as we walk toward the hotel.This is an adventure, I tell myself, sneaking a glance at Rory as we turn the corner onto Park Avenue. My heart hammers against my ribs while we wait for the elevator. I’m tipsy but not drunk. Just bold enough to reach out in the dim, discreet light of the atrium and rest my hand on his chest for a moment, as if to steady myself. He’s solid beneath the expensive fabric. Not just in body – there’s a restraint in him, something coiled tight, like he’s used to keeping the world at arm’s length. The warmth of his skin bleeds through, humming against my fingertips. He catches my hand and draws me closer, his fingers brushing down the side of my cheek before tipping my chin toward him.
“I don’t normally do this sort of thing,” I say.
He looks down at me, amused. “I wasn’t asking.”
I should probably be nervous. But there’s somethingabout the way he says it that makes my body answer before my brain can.
The elevator door slides open, and he pulls me inside, and somehow, I’m pushed up against the wall, breathless. My mouth opens to the tip of his tongue as it sweeps across my lower lip, his hand curving on my waist and pulling me in so I can feel the heat of his skin against mine once again, but this time, my hands are on his back and I think I might melt altogether as the embers burning low in my belly catch fire.
My hand tangles in his thick hair, and he groans against my mouth just as the elevator bell chimes and the doors slide open. He laughs – low, breathless – and then we’re out in the hallway, and he’s kissing me again. My back hits the wall, my body molten under his, and the press of him against me leaves no doubt: this spark isn’t one-sided. I don’t care if someone walks out and sees us. Fuck it. By this time tomorrow, I’ll be on a plane heading back to my boring life. I open the door with my key card, my breath unsteady.
“This is impressively tidy.”
“Are you suggesting you thought I’d be the sort of girl with a messy bedroom?”
He gives me a sexy smile, taking my hand and pulling me inside. His mouth takes mine again, his tongue parting my lips as the weight of his body bears down upon me, pinning me against the wall so my bones feel like they’ve turned to honey and are melting. He tastes of the whisky, like warm embers and heat.
I reach up, feeling the solid muscle of his shoulders and the muscle beneath the smooth cotton of his shirt. I slide my hand down his back, tugging the shirt loose so my fingers reach his body.
“Edie,” he growls. I can feel his rock-hard erection againstmy stomach, and he pulls me back, so somehow, we land with a crash on the bed, my legs straddling his lap and his broad thighs beneath me. A half-sigh, half-moan escapes me as his stubble grazes my skin and his mouth brushes against my jaw. I grind against him shamelessly, my dress rucked up around my thighs.
“You like that?” His voice is low, the accent more pronounced. He pushes up against me so I gasp again and arch my back.
His hands slide up to cup my breasts, grazing my nipples through the fabric with his thumbs.
“I think this dress needs to go,” he says, expertly unzipping me and pulling it over my head, discarding it in a heap on the pale carpet. His eyes sweep over my body and just as I’m about to cover myself instinctively, I remember something I read once – a man isn’t looking for flaws when he’s got you in the bedroom. I have a weird out of body moment where I catch a glimpse of us in the mirror and watch as he unfastens my bra, giving a murmur of approval as he brushes a thumb against my right nipple. I arch, desperate for more as he gathers my hair, wrapping it around his hand so my head tips back. His teeth graze my skin, right on the spot where my neck and shoulder meet, and I let out a gasp again. I need to feel his skin on mine.
I pull his shirt over his head and my breath catches. His chest is broad and tanned, the dark hairs leading a trail down to his belt. And then, I’m flat on my back on the bed and he peels off my knickers, sliding them down my thigh with a touch that makes a sound catch in my throat.
He tosses them to one side. I send up a silent thank you to the gods that I chose impractical but sexy hold up stockings over tights this evening when I was getting ready. He rollsthem off one at a time, and trails a line of slow, lazy kisses up the inside of my thigh. I think I’m going to burst into flames at any moment.
This man has admirable fucking restraint. He pulls away, leaving me lying naked as he strips off.
‘Fuck,’ I gasp as his cock springs free. It’s broad and thick, already glistening at the tip. Maybe he’s not as restrained as he appears. He strokes himself a couple of times, still watching me intently, then cages me with his arms. His lips close around one nipple as he shifts his weight, his hand cupping the other. I arch up shamelessly, feet pressing into the plush carpet, aching for that fucking enormous cock inside me. But then his tongue begins its slow descent, tracing a line down my rib cage – and just like that, maybe I can wait a little longer.
“You’re soaked,” he rasps, sliding his fingers down. His thumb circles my clit and two fingers curl inside me, slow and deliberate. My breath comes in ragged bursts, and I claw uselessly at the sheets before reaching down, my fingers tangling in his hair just as his mouth replaces his hand. It’s almost too much – overwhelming – and I surprise myself by coming before I even realize it’s happening.
He rears up, that half smile playing on his lips as I wriggle up on to my knees and take his cock in my hand as he stands over me. This is something I don’t have any self-doubts about. I fist him in my hand and look at him as I run the tip of my tongue up his shaft, circling the smooth tip for a moment. He growls my name as I take his length into my mouth, shifting position so he groans as my hand reaches down to cup his balls. I move my head slowly, teasing him, and I hear his breath ragged above me.
“Enough,” he says roughly, a few moments later. He riflesin his pocket and takes a condom from his wallet, then rolls it onto his cock.
And then he’s on the bed, his knee pushing my legs apart as he kisses me, his cock jutting between my thighs.
“Impatient for more?” His voice is low against my ear as he grazes my neck with his lips.
“Please.” I nod. “Yes.”
“Good girl,” he says, laughing, and slides into me, his eyes closing for a moment.
I shift underneath him, adjusting to his width. A shaft of city light filters through the curtain, the shadow playing across his face, emphasising the line of his jaw.
