Page 98 of Duke, Actually

Honestly. She was like a starving woman being ushered into an all-you-can-eat buffet. And Max was a feast. He was a generous lover, always attentive to her pleasure. It felt like they were in sync, like, as cheesy as it sounded, they were moving and thinking and breathing as one when they came together. It had never been like that for her. Not that she’d never had good sex, but this kind of immersion, this total attunement with another person, was new. She figured it was because she and Max were such close friends, because he knew her better than anyone.

Getting it on with the Depraved Duke had a lot to recommend it.

Once, watching him sleep, she entertained a little flash of fear that something about this, something she couldn’t quite name, was going to come back to bite her. Was itbecausethey were such close friends?Becausehe knew her better than anyone? No. Life wasn’t a rom-com. People didn’t lose friends in real life, at least not friends like Max, because they slept with them. She dismissed the fear as quickly as it had arisen, aided by the fact that he suddenly woke up and grinned at her.

“Come here,” he said, pulling on her arm. She had been sitting up in bed, reading while he napped.

“Ahh!” She laughed as she lost her balance and tumbled forward, but quickly sobered as she landed against his chest. She had forgotten how good it felt to touch someone. To exhaust yourself with someone.

She tried to lay herself out on him, mashing her breasts against his chest both because it felt good and because he seemed to really like her breasts, which was nice because they were definitelynot Hollywood breasts. If she had been the kind of person who was insecure about her body, the smallness of her breasts might have gotten to her. And if she had been that kind of person, Max and his focus on them, on her pleasure as if it were his single abiding imperative, would have cured her of that.

He wasn’t letting her stretch out on him, though. He resisted, pushing her so she was upright again, but straddling him. “Get up here,” he said, almost peevishly, pointing to his mouth.

“What do you... oh.”Oh.She wasn’t the type to embarrass easily, but she could feel her cheeks heating. She could feel her core heating, too.

“Now you’re getting it.” He swatted her butt. “Scoot this pretty bottom up here and sit on my face.”

“Oh my god.” She almost came from those words alone.

She was learning that in the bedroom, Max was direct, guileless, and generous. She wasn’t sure why that should be surprising. He was like that in life, too. But he had a way of stating things so directly. It wasn’t dirty talk in the traditional sense. His point wasn’t to get her off—at least she didn’t think it was. And he was bossy, but not in the dominant sense. He would never push her to do anything she didn’t want to. She couldn’t imagine anything he would suggest that would fall into that category, anyway. It was like he knew, always, what would feel good, what was optimal in any scenario, and announced his intention to do that thing.

It sounded so simple when she thought about it like that.

“Or don’t,” he said with a smile, and started to sit up. Here was a case in point—he thought she wasn’t into what he’d suggested, and he was regrouping.

“Hang on.” She pressed her palm against his chest and pushed him back down. “Give me a second.”

“What? You have to think about it?”

“No. I just have never done it... quite like this before.”

“Well, listen,” he said with mock sternness. “I’m being resourceful. You’ve told me, and I have observed, that you like being on top.” He held up his thumb and pointed to it with the opposite index finger, like he was making a visual list. “Happily, I also like you being on top.”

“You like everything,” she said, trying to swat the thumb he was still holding up.

He pulled it out of her way and added an index finger to his list. “I have also observed that you enjoy it when I go down on you—and again, our interests are perfectly in alignment.” He took the two fingers he’d used to make his list and tapped his forehead. “So I took my big brain and put those two things together. My god. It’s almost like you’re sleeping with Elon Musk.”

“Elon Musk? Gross!”

“Hmm. Elon Musk is a mood killer. Noted. Mark Zuckerberg?”

“Ugh!” She couldn’t help but laugh, though.

“Perhaps it’s the tech-sector angle you’re objecting to in these analogies. Who else is known for their intelligence? Hmm. Angela Merkel?”

“Oh shut up.”

“You know what would be an extremely efficient way of getting me to shut up right at the moment?” He wagged his eyebrows and licked his lips.

Well. Who was she to pass up this opportunity? She scoochedherself up until she was kneeling over his face. “What if I smother you?”

“Ah, what a good way to go.”

“But then Sebastien will have to be duke.”

He lightly swatted her butt. “This is not a good time to talk about my brother. Or my dreaded fate.”

“Yeah, yeah, point taken. I—” And, wow. He looped his arms around her thighs like he was anchoring her to him—or him to her, she wasn’t sure which—pulled her down, and... went to town.

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