Page 69 of Dukes of Peril

Dragging his hips back, he drives me into the rail with another slam of his hips. The force of our bodies meeting sinks the tip of his forefinger into my ass, making me hiss. Nick’s breath washes over the shell of my ear. “You know he wants it, don’t you? This pretty little ass of yours taking his cock.”

“He’s mentioned it,” I say, feeling Nick swelling inside me, his fingertip teasing at my rim.

He can feel me, too. “Fuck,” he groans, slamming a hand over mine on the rail. “Your pussy’s getting so wet for this. You’d like it, wouldn’t you?”

The truth is, if Nick had asked me that ten minutes ago, I would have said no. Now, I’m spreading my thighs for him, neck straining as I gulp in large, hungry breaths. “Deeper,” I demand, shoving my hips back. It makes his finger sink inside my ass, my belly erupting with rabid flutters. “Oh, god, Nick…”

His breath is just as quick and stilted as mine, and he lets loose a deranged rumble into my ear. “You better come fast, Little Bird, because I’m not gonna last much longer.”

The command spurs me on, and I bear down on his cock. It’s his turn to gasp, and he pours all of that desire into the slam of his hips, fucking me out of any other emotion that isn’t about him. My pussy clenches, tightening its grip around his cock. True to his word, the instant the orgasm rips through me, Nick grabs onto my hips and drops his forehead to the base of my neck, shuddering to his own release.

I cling to the railing, legs wobbly and numb. Without removing his cock, he wraps his arms around my body and kisses my neck. He asks, “That’s all you did? Just fucked at the gym?”

He almost sounds… disappointed.

“No,” I answer truthfully. “I tattooed him, and then we went to sleep.”

Nick’s breath stutters, arms tightening. “He let you–you inked him? Like, real ink, not a marker or–”

“A real tattoo,” I confirm, still winded and dazed. Fucking Nick Bruin is better than I imagine what it’s like to take Scratch. My muscles are loose, my breathing unsteady, not out of panic but exertion.

He kisses me again and pulls out, immediately dipping his fingers between my legs to catch any cum dripping down my thighs. I squirm against him as he pushes it back inside, fingers warm in my pussy.

“He’s never let anyone do that before,” he says, fucking his cum back into me. On one of these finger thrusts, he catches another drip and gently eases it into my asshole with his finger. When I tense, hissing his name, he just coaxes me back down, sliding the tip of his digit past the ring of muscle. “I want one,” he says, voice husky and dark.

It takes a moment to get my jaw unlocked. “One what?”

“A tattoo,” he answers, voice lost in thought as he fingers my ass. “You should mark me up, Little Bird.”

I finally wiggle my hips, nudging his hand away. “You’re jealous of the weirdest things, Nick Bruin.” Maybe that’s a part of why we work–two youngest siblings grasping for what we’re owed.

He watches me with dark eyes as I shimmy my panties back up, stepping forward to hem me in against the rail. “I’m drawing a line,” he says, eyes glued to my mouth. “I sleep where you sleep. Pick a bed–I don’t care whose. Mine. Sy’s. Remy’s. Sleep in the Archduke’s little kitty bed for all I care, but I’m going to be there with you.” His mouth hovers over mine, blue eyes pinging back and forth to capture every inch of my gaze. “Understand?”

I understand.

And more than that?

I’m thrilled.

12

Sy

“You were right.”I glance over at Lavinia as I shift gears, her eyes tracking a raindrop’s descent on the passenger window. It’s barely more than a sprinkle now, my Trans-Am rumbling like an animal beneath us.

“Of course I was,” she says, turning to blink at me. “But what specifically was I right about?”

Trying to keep my attention on the road, I answer, “The pill bottles being orange. I’ve been putting them into a white organizer, and I think it’s helping.” Remy never told me he was struggling with it, and just because I’m determined to let him stand on his own two feet doesn’t mean I haven’t been keeping tabs. He’s taken his medication every day, faithfully. But some days he’s been lingering in the bathroom longer than others.

It’s hard not being the shadow looming behind him all the time. Two straight years of schedules, check-ins, and hovering is a hard habit to break. It’d be a lie to say I don’t lay awake some nights, wondering where he is, how he’s faring, when he’s going to need help next.

“Good.” Her mouth tips up into a pleased grin. “That’s… good.” She tugs down the hem of her skirt, seeming distracted, but I can’t really blame her. I’d sprung this trip on her from out of nowhere, catching her just after class. “Where are we going?” she asks, surveying the landmarks.

“Do you trust me?” I glimpse at her, knowing it’s vague and pushy. She might think it’s a fun surprise and then get really fucking disappointed.

Although her eyebrows pull together in curiosity, she replies with no hesitation. “Yes.”

My chest thuds harder at the easy agreement.

---