Page 113 of Dukes of Peril

That’s all the permission I need, and I hold on to her hip as I push through the resistance, feeling the tight ring of muscle relent as my head pops through. “Goddamn.” I pant hard into the nape of her neck, feeling her tense around me. It takes every ounce of control not to punch in. “Take a breath, Vin. You’ve gotta let me in, baby.” Her inhale is followed by a shallow exhale, so I curl my arm around her, dipping between her legs to brush my fingers over her clit. The distraction works and her muscles loosen, the next careful rock of my hips sliding another thick inch of my cock into her. I shuffle my feet, nudging closer. “That’s my girl.”

The sensation is unreal; warm, wet, tight. It takes every bit of focus not to shoot into her with the first pump, but I drag back out, gathering a shallow, careful rhythm. With each thrust, she takes a little more of me, these sweet little aborted cries writhing their way from her throat.

“Touch me,” she pleads, grabbing my hand and shoving it back between her legs.

It’s hard to focus on anything that isn’t the tightness of her ass around me, but one glance at her slack face, brows pinched in rapture, drags me back to the moment. I rub her clit in a circuit that matches my hips, lips dragging over her ear. “You know the only thing that would make this better?” She doesn’t answer so much as she moans, fingernails digging into my wrist as I rub her. “Sy or Nick… right here.” I punctuate this by trailing my fingers through her folds, nudging at her entrance.

“Oh, fuck,” she gasps, clenching around me. Vinny’s body is small, but she’s more sturdy than she was when we brought her here. She takes me punch for punch, meeting the gradually more pointed collision of my hips against her ass.

The cool night air is no longer an issue, both of us hot, skin growing damp and sticky. I curl over her back, needing to be closer, wanting to smell her, feel her, hear her little pants as I continue to play with her clit, working her body into a heated frenzy. It’s torture to stave off the creeping promise of my orgasm, but I do it. I gnash my teeth, press my forehead into the back of her neck, and fuck her with rapidly dwindling restraint.

Her cries grow louder, carried away by a gust of wind that scatters her mewls like ashes around the burning city below. I hear her climb in the sound, feel its grip around my own cock, see it in the tremble of her white-knuckled fingers, scrabbling against the stone.

“Give it to me,” I grunt, snapping my hips faster, harder, fingers rub-rub-rubbing.

I know when we’re at the peak–that deliciously dangerous second before the plunge to ecstasy–because she gulps in a loud gasp of air and clenches around me, body seizing.

I can feel her flying as she comes around me.

Slamming into her, I whisper the words that always seem to break free just before I fall. “I love you, Vinny.” The orgasm bursts through me with a strangled grunt. I bury it into her sweaty neck, cock filling her ass with wild, desperate surges of come.

She leans back, lifting her eyes to meet mine. “I love you too.”

I don’t pull out, not right away, wanting to stay in the warmth of her for as long as possible. I came up here tonight feeling restless and anxious. That’s gone, replaced with satiety that only comes from being in alignment with my girl.

19

Lavinia

“Hey,”I say, knocking on Mama B’s door. “You have a minute?”

She flinches, head whipping forward, and given the way she quickly clears the frown on her face, I realize I’ve caught her in a moment of deep thought. A ledger is laying open on the desk in front of her, the old kind with rows of numbers jotted down in ink. Fight stats, bookie numbers, who knows what else. I’ve come to learn that Mama B is the record keeper and historian of the DKS gym. There’s nothing that goes on here that she doesn’t know about.

That’s why I hold out the clipboard I’ve been carrying around for the last week, clearing my throat. “Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to see if you could take a look over my checklist for the festival and poker game. I think I have everything in place, but I figured it would be good to have someone double check.”

Homecoming starts tomorrow, first with a parade, followed by the football game, and then finally the carnival. There’s no Fury this week, the carnival and poker game taking prominence. All of my focus has been narrowed down to the event–bothevents–and I’ve spent every moment outside of classes procuring everything on the prior Duchess’ list. A better woman could say that dedication is because of the sheer nature of the responsibility, but I have more than one reason to throw myself into a productive distraction.

The biggest one is named Nick Bruin.

He hasn’t said more than two words to me since our fight.

“Sure,” she says, scribbling down a last number and shutting the ledger. She takes the clipboard, giving me a scrutinizing stare.

“The extra items on the list are because Sutton had already backed off her obligations,” I say, wringing my hands. “But the rest of us are splitting the work.”

She nods, skimming the list quickly. “All of this looks good, except…”

Ugh.“Except what?”

She hands me back the clipboard. “The beer truck kegs are fine for the festival, but not the poker game. Bottles only—high end.”

Worrying my lip between my teeth, I explain, “I’m already pushing the budget on the alcohol. Saul sent a list of top-shelf to stock the bar with, so I figured I could save a little by ordering a few extra kegs from the festival vendor.”

“Make your cuts somewhere else, but not with the booze.” She looks me up and down, assessing me closely. “Nor the entertainment.”

“I’ll see what I can move around,” I say, hugging the clipboard so hard that the corners dig painfully into my breasts. “And I’m well aware of my entertainment obligations.”

She leans back, arm draped over the arm of her chair. Even after getting to know her better, I find the woman intimidating. She carries herself with absolute confidence—not like she’s surrounded by two dozen young cutsluts with perkier tits and tighter pussies. She’s the queen bee around this place, which makes no sense, when one considers she doesn’t have a drop of Royal blood running through her veins.

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