Page 96 of Dukes of Peril

“I can take more,” she says, teeth baring down on her bottom lip. “I just… let me just…” She shifts, changing the angle, falling forward and trapping me with her dark eyes. With one roll of her hips, I sink in farther than before, watching as her jaw goes slack. “Oh God, rightthere.”

Her eyes, which had been locked-in on me, flutter shut. That simple act sends a jolt through my heart. She trusts me.

Behind her, Remy is snapping a photo of her pussy, but all I can focus on is the way she looks, forehead creased in abandon as she writhes to take more of my dick. Carefully, I plant my heels and give a small, measured nudge with my hips, bracing myself for disaster.

But when her eyes fly open, she just says, “Yeah, likethat.”

“Yeah?” I give another testing buck, not trying to drive myself in deeper, just wanting her to feel me here.

She makes a low, keening sound, bearing back into motion, and behind her, Remy spits a soft curse. The urge to come is overwhelming—the need to touch and make this good for her more painful than the ache in my balls. She deserves it.

She deserves the best.

My eyes drop from her, down to Nick who is watching this with sharp intensity. Our eyes meet and I jerk my chin.

He doesn’t miss a beat, licking his thumb and leaning between us. He swipes the pad over her clit, rolling it in a slow circle. I don’t just see her react; Ifeelher, the muscles lining the walls of her pussy clenching around me. My hips rock up, and she drives down to meet me. Nick must do it again, because this time she cries out, one hand thrusting in my brother’s hair as the other claws down my chest.

The rush of feeling her tighten around me, all the way around me, eclipses all other moments. “Oh my god, Sy,” she pants, eyes snapping open and meeting mine. “I’m coming.”

She doesn’t have to tell me, because her back straightens at the same time her pussy strangles my cock, gripping me like a goddamn vise. I lurch forward, the thread snapped, my orgasm unleashing like a detonated bomb, but then slam back, forgetting my restraints.

“Fuck!”

Lavinia falls forward, hair tumbling over her shoulder, her hips convulsing. Her mouth meets mine, tongue pushing between my lips. Her nails dig into my chest, but nothing matters but the sensation of her pussy milking my cock.

Nothing matters but her.

She finishes her kiss, the same time my cock stops twitching inside of her, and I gaze into her eyes.

“I love you,” I say, not caring if the guys hear me. Not caring if she says it back.

I just want her to know.

“Look at me.”My mother reaches for my face, twisting it back and forth as if she’s searching for something. We’re in the kitchen, just the two of us. Nick, Remy, and Lavinia are in the other room with Dad and Pops.

“Ma.” I grab her forearms and gently force her to stop manhandling me. “Jesus, can’t a guy just get a drink?”

“Something’s different.” She frowns, twisting to grab my hand, and I cringe as her eyes zero in on the marks around my wrist. “What happened here? A fight? Oh, Simon…”

“No, I’m not fighting again!” Breaking away, I stick my head in the fridge, originally planning on grabbing a bottle of water, butfuck. A beer seems like a better idea. In moments like this, I understand what it must be like for the guys and Lavinia to live with me. The hyper-analyzing is annoying as fuck.

I stand, slamming the door, well aware that my cheeks are flushed. I grab the bottle opener off the counter and pop the top. “If youhaveto know, Lavinia and I…” I swallow the rest of that sentence along with a gulp of beer.

She turns to smooth out the icing on my birthday cake, eyebrow rising. “You know the rule, sweetheart.”

‘If you can’t talk about sex, you’re not mature enough to engage in it.’

That just about sums up life with a mother who’s a sex therapist. “We had sex,” I blurt, hand clenched around the bottle of beer.

She looks at my wrist, brows hiking higher on her forehead. “Adventurously, it seems.”

Shaking my head, I explain, “No, I mean… we’re together. She’s my girlfriend.”

Her eyes flick toward the living room where Remy’s excited voice carries as he describes something enthusiastically. “And your brother and Remy?”

“She’s their girlfriend, too.” I swallow, picking at the label. “Our Duchess. You know how it is.”

Mom’s good at keeping a straight face. The job requires it, but a mix of emotions runs through her eyes at the announcement. “Are you sure? Because managing this type of relationship isn’t for everyone.”

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