Page 86 of Dukes of Peril

I stumble a step, but she doesn’t wait, meaning I have to sprint to catch her wrist, tugging her faster toward the locker room. “Fuckme, Little Bird. You can’t just say shit like that in public. My poor dick’s going to pop right through my shorts.”

She’s been on a tear ever since the elevator last night, high on the conquest of riding the elevator through four whole trips. The energy rolling off her ever since just makes me want her more, and I practically ply myself to her ass, navigating us through the wild throng.

The main hallway is crowded, and possessing the whiff of something that isn’t conducive to seductive oral shenanigans, but we wrinkle our noses and power through.

Until I slam into someone.

“Coming through,” I explain, impatient and annoyed.

The guy turns to narrow an eye at me from beneath his raised hoodie, but I just keep plowing on by. I’d stop and deal with it but… pussy, motherfucker.

A man’s got priorities.

I turn down the back hallway, toward the training room, but there’s someone blocking the door.

Is everyone in this building a cockblocker?

It wasn’t in my plan to take Lavinia into the locker room, and I don’t really feel good about it now. Too many bad experiences for her in there, and the last thing we need is her reliving the memory of Remy’s mindfuck. However, needs must.

But before we even turn the corner, I hear a voice that makes me tense.

“To the victor, go the spoils. Isn’t that how your Dukes play this game?” When he comes into sight, I see Wicker, shoulder propped against the wall. His body is slick with sweat, a towel draped around his neck. Beads of blood drip to the floor from a hit Bruce managed to land, and he’s still catching his breath. Wicker tilts his head, smirking. “Well, I won that fight, Red, and you’re the prize I want.”

I can’t see the girl’s face, but when she speaks, I recognize the voice in a heartbeat.

“You’re on the wrong side of Forsyth to claim any,” Verity says, voice dripping with disdain.

“Rumor is, West End’s cutsluts get mounted like bitches,” he shifts, moving to cage her against the wall, a hand on each side of her head. “I could fuck you until you scream.”

The cutsluts know how to handle themselves but Verity isn’t like the rest of them. She’s sweet. Soft. And this prick would fucking tear her apart.

I curl my fist, stepping forward to break it up, but not before Lavinia does.

“Hey!” she shouts, charging toward them. “Get away from her, asshole!”

Shit.

There goes my pussy feast.

Wicker glances over at my girl, a smug grin already plastered on his stupid face. His eye is swollen, and I see now that the blood is coming from his knuckles. I can feel the post-fight adrenaline running through his system and it makes my fingers twitch toward the gun against my back.

“Oh, the Duchess,” he says, eye-fucking her. “Ready for that threesome yet? Obviously, if I’m going for this one over here, I’m not in a picky mood. I can mount you both like bitches.”

“And I can tell the future,” I say, jaw hardening as I step in front of her. “Ask me what happens in five seconds?”

Wicker’s eyes dart down to where my hand is tucked beneath my shirt. “Ah, Dukes. Never travel anywhere without that piece on you, do you? An observant man might call that cowardly.”

“That man might observe his brains splattered on the floor.” Smiling coolly, I add, “A lot like his cousin.”

Any teasing nature drains right out of his eyes. “Look at you, Bruin. You’ve barely been in the belfry three months, and you’ve already caught probation and implicated yourself in multiple murders. Yeah, you run a real tight shipwreck.” His lip curls pompously. “Pathetic.”

“You’re the pathetic one,” Lavinia grinds out, and it’s only then that I feel her hand clutching mine–the one reaching for my gun. Her fingers clamp like claws around my wrist. “There’s not a woman in this gym who’d willingly fuck you over what we’ve already got.” Snapping forward, she grabs Verity’s hand and tugs her away from him.

I give my most polite ‘you just survived murder’ smile. “I’d stick around and kick your ass the way Bruce should have, but I’m saving my energy to take down your reigning Prince.”

Wicker snarls, “I’d wipe the floor with you, Bruin,” and I step closer, ignoring the hand tugging hard at my shirt.

“I know what you are, Wicker. More importantly, I knowwhoyou are, and where you come from.” Up close, I can see the flash of split-second panic in his eyes, but it’s gone just as quickly as it came.

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