Page 33 of Duke
Duke narrows his eyes. “You sure that’s your answer?”
Jaw clenched tightly, Tucker spits, “I said if it were me, I’d have put her on her pretty little knees and made her suck my dick. Happy?” He looks past Duke, training his eyes on me and sneering. “She probably gives great head, considering all the practice she’s had.”
Faster than I’ve ever seen someone move, Duke has Tucker by the neck. He’s so startled, he stumbles, allowing Duke to shove him directly into the pantry. My throat goes dry. I can’t see what’s happening. I’m not so sure I want to. But we can hear every word. Me, Warren, Arik, Brendan, and Quincy. We exchange nervous looks.
“How’s it feel to be forced to your knees, Tuck? You like it?” Duke’s growl is animalistic. “Do it.”
My teeth bite down hard on my lip. The distinctive sound of a belt unbuckling has me blinking hard, then a zipper slides down.
“Come on, man.” Tucker has gone from defiance to uncertain whimpering in no time flat.
“What? You don’t like the suggestion that you kneel? You don’t want an unwelcome cock shoved in your mouth?” There’s a thud, then a huge crash. In my head, I imagine the items on the shelves have been swept off and are likely all over the floor. “Leave her the fuck alone. And pick up this goddamn mess.”
Duke storms out, zipping up and buckling his belt as he goes. He catches my eye and jerks his head, like I should follow him. But I can’t resist taking a look inside the pantry before I do. Edging over to the open doorway, I peek at the disaster. Holy. Fuck. Tucker is sprawled on the floor. He’s covered in flour, sugar, and who knows what else. My eyes shift to the bare shelf. Duke must have scooped all the baking canisters off in one fell swoop and let them fly right at Tucker’s head.
Why would I not assume it was him? From the beginning, he’s joked about putting me in the pantry to show him how good I was on my knees. He’s the one who said he wanted to win me at auction. It’s almost always been him with the fucking asshole antics here at the house. Maybe we were too goddamn blind to see that it’s been him all along.Everything.The bathroom on campus, the locker… fuck, maybe he’s even who had me after the auction. I shudder. He and Warren aren’t friends. It kinda makes sense he’d dump me in Warren’s bed. Sort of. I frown, my forehead pinching hard because there’s something else ticking along the edges of my subconscious… something that tells me it’s not Tucker. It doesn’t feel right. But he’s still a fucking asshole for everything he just said.
Warren gives me a firm nod of approval when I meet his concerned gaze. Cringing, I glance at the rest of the guys. “I don’t know who thought it was a good idea to attack me in broad daylight in the middle of the damn kitchen. But how’d that work out for you? Was the desired outcome achieved?”
“You fuckin’ tell ’em, Lennon.” Warren is the only one who will look me in the eye, but I didn’t expect anything from the rest of them.
Arik’s lips quirk. “If I figure out who did it, can I have the code to the alarm system?”
Leave it to Arik to make light of the whole damn situation. I sigh, rolling my eyes as I open the refrigerator and pull out the ranch dressing to take with me, then grab the bottles of water from the counter. “I almost don’t want to tell you this, but there are sandwiches in the fridge. One for each of you. Don’t be pigs.” With that, I whirl around and head out to the patio.
Outside, Duke is rather angrily chewing a bite of his sandwich when I join him. He glances up, and I gesture to the bottle of ranch as I set it on the table. “Sorry. The empty ketchup in the fridge is what started everything. I was about to get a fresh bottle from the pantry, and well… you heard the rest.” I huff out a weak, troubled laugh. “Hope you’re okay with ranch with your fries because no way in hell was I going back into the pantry after all that.”
He picks up the bottle and squirts the dressing into the lid of the container. Dipping a fry into it, he shakes his head, exasperated. “It’s fine. And you shouldn’t have to explain yourself. I’m fuckin’ sorry that happened. Even more sorry I lost it like that. I—” His jaw works to the side, and he lets out a heavy exhale.
Watching how his reaction plays out, I find myself chewing on my lip again and will myself to stop. I study the way his jaw twitches. He’s being really hard on himself. I sit down and try to concentrate on unwrapping my sandwich, giving him a breather. He’ll talk when he’s ready.
It’s a full five minutes later when he finally sets down his sandwich roll and grits out, “I wasn’t going to make him blow me. Just for the record.” He takes another fry from the container and chomps angrily on it.
“Is that what you’re worried about? That it made you look gay?”
He clears his throat, his gaze landing on me for a moment before it skips away again. “You should have seen the look on his face when I made him undo my pants. I thought he was going to shit himself. Fucking idiot.”
I stifle a laugh because I can see he’s truly upset, even if he’s trying to cover it up. “I took it to be a threat, nothing more. And I’m sure to every other person with half a brain in their head, it sounded like you were fucking with him. Kinda like when you threatened to make Arik and Quincy clean your toilets with their toothbrushes. It was just scary enough of a threat that Tucker would watch his fucking step.”
“I couldn’t help myself. No one should treat a woman the way he treats you and get away with it.” He hesitates, locking eyes with me. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I do realize how that sounds coming from me because of some of the shit I’ve said to you the last few weeks.” He wipes his hands on a napkin, then wads it up and chucks it toward the bag.
I wet my lips, then put my hand over his, hoping it’ll calm him because the vein running down the middle of his forehead is protruding intensely. “Let’s not muddy the waters. We aren’t the same people to each other as when I first showed up on your doorstep. The things you said to me before we knew each other well enough—don’t worry about that. As for Tucker, I don’t disagree with you. But—” The thing that was bothering me clicks into place, and I’m suddenly… scared. Sweat forms on my back and begins to trickle all the way down to the waistband of my jean shorts.
“What are you thinking about, Stella?” Duke’s voice is low but demanding. He can tell something is wrong.
I try to swallow, but my throat is dry as the desert. “What Tucker said is bothering me.”
Duke gives me an odd look. “I just told you he was being a prick.”
“No. That’s not what I’m referring to. What he said was gross, but”—I finally manage to swallow—“he wasn’t lying. If it had been him who shut me in that pantry, he for sure would have been in there with me. He’s guilty of being a foul-mouthed dickface, but I believe him when he says he didn’t shove me in there.” I draw in a ragged breath, studying the myriad of emotions flicking over Duke’s face. Concern. Confusion. And yep, still holding onto that pissed-off moodiness from how he dealt with Tucker.
Duke frowns for a full three seconds before understanding dawns on him. “Which means it was someone else.”
“Yes.” My heart is thudding so hard in my chest. I shove my food away, mostly untouched. “It’s the middle of the day. No one is fucking sneaking into the house, pushing me into the pantry, then disappearing without someone seeing an outsider. So if that’s the case, we’re saying that someone else in the house did that to me. Right?” I wait a beat, lowering my voice. “Duke, it’s someone who knows about my past. That’s disturbing because hardly anyone knows about the incident that occurred when I was a child. The thing with my closet and the dress—I had assumed someone snuck in and did that. But how would someonein the houseknow what effect this would have on me?”
He runs a hand down his face, eyeing me. “I see what you’re getting at.”
My palms are sweating badly, and I take a second to wipe them on my thighs as I search Duke’s blue eyes for answers. And then it hits me. I know how this has happened. The reality of the situation makes my stomach pitch and churn. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but now that my mind is clearing from the pantry incident, my thoughts race and race, tripping and stumbling as I consider all the angles. I’m scared to open my mouth and let the upsetting truth spill out.
