Chapter 9 - Duncan
DUNCAN
Elowyn recognized my voice.
After ten years of no contact, of her forgetting I ever existed.
All it took was a few words, and there it was.
My name on her lips.
A violent shock rips through me. My teeth gnash. My heart’s bleeding.
Anger rises just as fast, consuming me.
She doesn’t get to do this. To say my name as if she cares.
She’s fucking with my sanity.
Wait, why do I even give a fuck if she remembers me?
I don’t.
“Duncan…” Her tears dry, but her face remains crumpled.
She reaches up to my mask, her hand shaking.
I snap my fingers around her wrist. Lean an inch closer, lowering my face to hers.
“Don’t say my name.” I don’t shout. Don’t need to. The warning in my tone and the harsh grip are enough. “Ever.”
Elowyn whimpers, but otherwise remains quiet.
Fucking better.
Another Duncan, and there’s no telling what I would’ve done. Laid her down on the pedestal, spread her legs, and fucked her. Either that, or any number of things I’ve been fantasizing about for over a decade.
Things that would’ve put an end to my carefully calculated plan.
But she doesn’t say another word.
And goddammit. Even if she did, I vow that my will is stronger than my desire.
Because a quick, brutal fuck would end with her hating me instead of forming an attachment.
The whole idea is making her dependent on me.
For that to happen, I need to stick to the plan.
I take a small step back. A pathetic attempt to steel myself against her pleading stare and the need to shove my cock deep inside her.
Except how is this supposed to work when I can’t let her go?
My hand is still a manacle around her wrist. Her pulse flutters beneath my thumb, making my teeth grind. Making me want her.
This weakness is unacceptable.
The way I can’t stop admiring Elowyn’s elegant neck, her pink nipples hardened beneath her dress, is just as bad. The soft curves of her body are driving me wild.
Enough.
As if bitten, I tear myself from her.
I don’t mean for her to stumble, to almost trip off the pedestal.
I don’t do anything about it either, letting her balance on her own.
For a second, my heart trips over itself, worrying she might hurt herself. The pain in her eyes, I can’t take it.
You can and you will.
Another step. Another.
The distance I put between us eventually helps, loosening the hold she has on me.
From a few feet away, I can finally breathe.
“Duncan.” She folds her arms around herself like a wounded bird. Her figure is small inside that light beam. “Come back.”
Again with that god-awful voice that unravels every emotion I’ve buried deep inside.
“I told you not to say my name.” I stop where I am, standing tall. My jaw clenches as I force myself to focus. “You’re here to do as you’re told. Which is to strip.”
Why does my throat tighten? Why do I hate myself for the things coming out of my mouth?
This has always been the plan, hasn’t it?
“But—”
“Quiet,” I cut her off, same as how I silence the voices in my head. There’ll be no pity. No tenderness. “Every minute of arguing is ten thousand dollars I take off your compensation, understood?”
“You can’t do that.”
Infuriating. She’s figured out who I am, and she still has money on her mind. Sadly, my pain doesn’t lessen just because I’ve been proven right about her.
“I’m practically naked. I did as you asked. Please, that has to be enough. The compensation you promised, Barclay needs it.”
As if things couldn’t have gotten any worse. Hearing the name of the person she chose over me—hearing her choose him over and over—I can’t take it.
The memories. The humiliation. The scars.
Heat flares low in my chest, barely contained and extremely volatile.
“I can, and I will.” I take another step back, blending into the shadows.
“No, don’t leave.” The words I wished to hear from her for years are all wrong. They don’t mean what I wanted them to. “Stay. We can talk about it.”
“You want to talk?” I snap, locking my fingers around the lamp pole at my side.
This isn’t a UV lamp like I’d normally use on my projects. Damaging Elowyn, physically wounding her, I can’t do that. Couldn’t even consider it while I plotted against her and her brother.
Him, I can kill. Won’t even lose sleep over it.
Never her.
“Yes, I do.”
“All right.” I huff a mirthless laugh. “But you’re going to regret it.”
“I won’t,” she whispers, looking as unsure as she sounds.
“We’ll see about that.” A smirk tugs at my lips. “Nothing good will come out of this…chat. Especially since you keep disobeying me.”
Her breath catches at my sharp and ugly tone.
Good.
I take the lamp and bring it closer to the pedestal. The heavy, alluring weight of her gaze follows me the entire time.
The back of my neck itches. My cock stiffens.
My heart—
Fuck my heart.
The base of the lamp lands harder than it should on the floor. I chalk it up to years of anger, nothing more.
“Stay here,” I order.
She doesn’t answer my command.
I don’t repeat myself or ask if she’s heard me. Instead, I tilt the curved metal neck of the lamp toward her chest and chin, no higher. I’d never risk hurting her eyes.
“Duncan.” Her brow furrows at the added, unforgiving light.
“Strip.” I walk to the side of the pedestal.
“Listen.” A scowl turns her confused expression into something I’ve never seen on Elowyn. A deeper kind of stubbornness than before, one that’s too fucking beautiful. “I don’t know what’s happening here, but it has to stop.”
“You have to stop.” I pull my lips in. Curse under my breath. “Stop arguing.” I return to her front, fingers digging into her chin. “Stop talking, period, unless I tell you to. You hear me?”
“Yes, I hear you.”
“Good, we’re getting somewhere.” My voice is cold, my blood is anything but.
Unable to take another second of the intimate moment, I tear myself away from this temptation.
That’s better, these three feet of air. Better, but still awful.
Years and miles between us didn’t hurt as badly as this. As being within reach and not devouring her lips.
“But here’s the thing.” She takes one foot off the pedestal and places it on the floor. “I still have things to say.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” I warn. “You’re being paid to serve me. Your brother is currently functioning, thanks. To. Me.”
“Just hear me out, okay?” She stays in place, half on the floor, half on the pedestal. “I’m grateful for your help. I want this to work out as much as you do.”
A scowl twists my features because…helping her was all I’d ever wanted as a teenager. To be her hero.
Even now, years later, hearing her thank me stirs something primal inside me. Something warm that feels a lot like pride.
Un-fucking-acceptable.
“Elowyn, if you don’t get back on that pedestal and stay quiet, so help me, I’ll call off the nurses. Barclay will get the wire transfers, sure. Only so I can watch him blow the money away.”
She gasps as if I struck her. By mocking her brother’s gambling addiction, I might as well have.
With tears lining her eyes, she climbs back up the pedestal.
“What happened to you?” Her arms pull tighter around her.
“Nothing.” I ignore her gorgeous tits as she squeezes them. “Now. I remember giving you an order.”
My greedy eyes take in her thighs clamped together beneath the gown. The red staining her cheeks.
Desire surges through me at the sight, need shooting down my spine, going straight to my cock. My heart, naturally, feels nothing; there’s no emotion behind my need to spread her legs. To eat her out, then leave her wet and crying when she refuses to come from this monster.
None.
“Strip,” I order, ready to move things along. To stop thinking so fucking much. “Now.”
Ten years ago, her gasp would’ve been adorable.
Today, the bitter taste of satisfaction fills my mouth.
“Do you want me to come up there and rip the dress off you?” Just to fuck with her some more, I adjust the bulge in my pants. Squeeze it, once. “Was last night not enough?”
“Bastard.”
I cock my head and take a step closer.
“No, no, I’ve got this.”
Seeing how serious I am, she hooks her fingers on the lapels of her dress. They tremble as she slips it off her shoulders. Her chin dips, eyes cast to the floor.
My heart slams to a stop when the fabric falls at her feet. When she bares herself to me.
I saw her naked yesterday, but it wasn’t anything like this, to have her react to me when she’s conscious.
Her prickly skin. Her hardened nipples. Her fingers that flex as they cover her pussy. The throat working to swallow.
It’s all for me.
I fucking love it.
“That’s a good girl,” I taunt, rounding the pedestal slowly again, each step deliberate.
She doesn’t move. Her stillness is an offering, one I intend to exploit.
If I could just stop wanting to hug her.
Shut up.
“What now?” she asks.
Ignoring the question, I clasp my hands behind my back and keep walking. Keep watching her.
The light from the lamp reveals every line and curve. I wish I could be immune to her beauty, that I could be any less addicted, but I can’t.
Damn her, she’s too perfect. Even the bleach stains are, in a way, beautiful. So much so that it fills my chest with white-hot rage.
By the time I return to stand beside the lamp, fresh tears streak Elowyn’s cheeks. They fall in silence, tracing smooth skin before dripping to the floor.
I feel no sadness, or pity for how belittling this experience is. I can’t.
“Do you know what this light shows?” I jerk my chin toward the lamp. “What I’ll be looking into tonight?”
“Why are you doing this?” Her eyes find mine, the fear in them bare and unguarded. “You’ve already seen everything.”
“You mean yesterday?” I’m an asshole for stretching out her embarrassment. “Hmm?”
The shallow rise and fall of her chest catches the light. Her eyes narrow, forehead creasing.
She isn’t just scared anymore. She’s furious.
Two full minutes of silence pass before she says, “Yes, I meant yesterday. You don’t have to do that again.”
“Yesterday,”—I come to stand in front of her—“you were unconscious.”
“Well.” Red splotches spread all over her neck, her face. “I wonder whose fault that was.”
“Careful.” Another step, and she has to look up to see me.
“No, I won’t be careful.” She scoffs. “We need to talk.”
“We are talking.” Fuck this pain. And fuck—no, dammit. I can’t say fuck her, not even in my own stupid head. “And we’ll keep talking, while I show you just how flawed you are.”
“Damn you, Duncan.”
I curl my fingers around her throat. “Damn me?”
“Yes.” Her pulse beats hard and fast.
Our foreheads almost touch, her sweet, natural scent sending me back to the past as if ten years haven’t passed.
As if she’s still the girl I remember. The same trembling one who I thought looked at me like I was good. Like class, wealth, or her brother meant nothing.
The one who pretended to like me.
That reminder is all it takes for me to snap out of it.
“Damn you too, El.” I slide my hand up, dragging my thumb over her lips and dipping it between them.
It looks like she tries to bite off my finger, but she’s failing. Elowyn’s so fucking gentle that she just presses her lips around me.
Innocent little thing, she has no idea what she’s doing. What ideas pulse through me.
How I’m this close to burying my cock in her wet, hot mouth.
Soon.
A growl reverberates in my chest, and I pull away.
“Elowyn,” she huffs as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Not El. Definitely not Elly.”
“I see we’re done with insults.” I wind a hand in her hair. Tug. “And have moved up to orders.”
“No.” She gasps when I tear my mask off and toss it to the floor. “But you called me El and made it sound derisive. Like we’re strangers.”
“That’s because we are.” My lips twist in a snarl.
I hate this hole in my chest that has her name on it.
“No, we aren’t.”
When I pull harder on her silky locks, angling her head to the side, she whimpers, sounding both aroused and scared.
“Fine, I won’t call you El or Elly. Won’t call you little moon either.” I sink my teeth into that tender spot where her throat meets her shoulder. Suck. I let go, and she’s still breathing hard. “Never again.”
No matter how good she tastes. What memories she evokes.
I’m done.
All that’s left of us is this.
“Please.” Tears streak down her face as her feet shift against the floor, her legs parting just slightly, as if she resents the pull between us but can’t fight it. “Duncan, stop.”
“You say stop, but what’s this?” My dick jerks when I clasp a hand over her inner thigh. “You’re wet? The perfect princess is dying to get railed?”
It’s too late when she tries to close her legs. I’m already there, sliding my hand up, pressing it to her sex. A smirk curves my lips as I take in how soaked she is.
“Leave me alone, you bastard.” Her hand is small around my wrist. So small that she can’t close it all the way. “What’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me? Last time I checked, I’m not the one who wants to be fucked by a bastard.” I push a finger between her pussy lips, then smear her wetness over her clit. “That’s all you.”
“I don’t.” She slaps me, her palm cracking on my cheek.
Precum dampens the tip of my dick. I fucking love it when she pushes back.
“Sweetheart.” Releasing her hair, I hold her in place by the throat. “Stop lying. You’re a dirty little slut who’s desperate to be bent over.”
“Let me go,” Elowyn groans, her chin dimpling. “This wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
My chest stings since…she’s right. It wasn’t.
Our love story should’ve been sweet. The first time she came on my fingers would’ve been in our bed or a hot tub.
I would’ve told her what a good girl she was, would’ve done all the right things.
A part of me craves that. The part that aches to see my little moon crying.
The rest of me remembers the betrayal.
“And there it is, your biggest flaw. The need to be someone you’re not. You want to be good, but you’re nothing but a filthy girl who’s going to come on my fingers when I rub you just”—I change an angle, trying to figure out what gets her off—“the right”—fuck, yes, her pupils are blown—“way.”
“No.” Her climax steals her voice, her no a silent cry.
Her thighs squeeze my hand, and yeah, that’s a big fucking turn-on.
But what really does it for me is the taste of the tears I lean in to lick off her cheeks.
It’s knowing that, deep down, she wanted this orgasm. That my plan has started to work faster than I could’ve imagined.
Not for the first time, I don’t like how much it affects me. I can’t bring myself to stop either. Can’t patch the crack forming in my heart.
Can’t care enough about my sanity to turn away.
If that weakness kills me in the end, so be it.
So fucking be it.