Chapter 16 Duncan #2
My gaze doesn’t leave hers as I soak it again. As I drag the moment, stirring the brush in the jar, tormenting myself and her.
Pain and lust run through me, tightening my chest. Stiffening my cock.
“I never regretted kissing you,” slips out before I can stop myself. “It’s impossible to regret something I needed so badly.”
Elowyn’s reaction isn’t something I could anticipate. She arches her back slightly, offering herself. Thanking me for opening up.
This isn’t the time to thank or forgive me. And yet she’s doing both.
Good, kind, perfect Elowyn. My dream girl.
How did we end up here, instead of curled up on a couch watching an old movie with our kids, our dogs?
Barclay. Me. The universe.
That’s how.
The thumping in my head returns in full force, causing me to hurl the jar at the wall. Glass breaks, splinters. The sound is a roar blaring in the mostly empty room.
Elowyn’s eyes squeeze shut. She gathers herself quickly, opening them again, staring at me. Doesn’t flinch at what she sees on my face.
Fuck, I want that girl. I’m throbbing for the woman she’s grown into.
“What did I do, then?” she asks.
I keep going as if nothing’s happened, sliding my brush lower. Past her navel. Her hips.
There’s enough water soaking the bristles that the bandage clings in place.
Maybe it’s a sign that it’s never too late.
That if something is right, it doesn’t take much to make it work. A few drops of water, or in our case, feelings, and anything could happen.
Unable to contain my need for her, I curl my hand around her throat and slide the brush, now dry, lower, almost reaching the bandage covering Elowyn’s pussy.
She whimpers, eyelashes fluttering.
The look she’s pinning me with is open at first, then hopeful…
Then dark.
“See, I never stopped thinking about you.” I put the brush over the strip covering her cunt. “Not for a second.”
Her lips part when I stroke her pussy through the bandage, rubbing her the way she likes.
I tighten my hand around her throat just in time to catch the vibration of her moan with my palm.
“But?” She grabs my T-shirt, using it to pull herself closer as she rocks her hips, trying to fuck the brush. “What did I do?”
“You wounded me.” I hate this. Sounding weak. As if I have a choice. I can’t control my voice any more than I can control my dick that’s straining in my jeans. “You might do it again. Probably will.”
A dimple appears on her chin. Her body stills. “What do you mean?”
“Elowyn Faye Montgomery.”
This isn’t kind, what I’m about to say. But she has to hear it for herself, learn what’s been crushing me for years, so we can move forward.
“You’ve only ever chosen one person.”
She’s waiting for me to elaborate while I run the brush up and down over her pussy. Slow, then fast and slow again before stopping at her opening.
The fabric and my brush push into that tight space, making her knees buckle. I have to choke her a little tighter to hold her upright.
Neither Elowyn nor I seem to have a problem with that.
She lets out tiny exhales, little sounds that my dick responds to.
“That person,” I say, throwing the brush to the side. “It isn’t me. Never was, never will be.”
“Duncan.” Her face crumples, eyes shining.
“That’s not true. I didn’t just feel rejected and miserable.
I told you the guilt has been eating at me for years.
I always wanted what was best for you, and instead I was the reason you lost everything you worked so hard for.
It broke me. If I’d even suspected Barclay was lying, I would’ve looked for you. I swear I would’ve.”
“Was it convenient? Staying home? Keeping your life intact?” Venom slithers through my body, seeping into every word. “Did you ever push Barclay for the truth? Or was it easier not to?” My mouth twists. “I bet it was a relief. Not having to look for the poor boy who had nothing to offer you.”
I regret the words as soon as they come out, despite how anger still burns through me.
“How dare you.” Her jaw tics. “I never cared about money. Never wanted a rich boyfriend or husband. I wanted you.”
“Doesn’t look like it. I left, and you didn’t care.” I lower my face to hers, our noses brushing. “You could’ve called. Texted. Something.”
Normally, these memories drag me back to a cold, lonely place.
Today’s different.
I’m furious but it doesn’t stop me from wanting her.
Her cunt, I’m throbbing to be inside her. I grab the strip covering her pussy and place it over her shoulder. Exposing her.
“That’s”—when I dip two fingers inside her, she’s wet, her arousal soaking me to my wrist—“on”—I slip them out, rubbing her clit with her wetness—“you.”
“I’m sorry.” A big, heart-wrenching sob breaks out of her. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” I pinch her clit. I’m cruel on the outside, when deep inside, I’m seconds from breaking down. From saying I’m really fucking sorry too. “What is it that you’re apologizing for, exactly?”
“For believing Barclay. More than anything.” The way her body locks, I know she’s about to come. “For being so heartbroken that I couldn’t see the truth. I would’ve chased you. Would’ve fought for you. I didn’t, and I’m sorry. I’m. Sorry.”
“No, you’re not. You’re still helping Barclay.” This difficult conversation doesn’t change the fact that I’m desperate for Elowyn’s orgasm. I stroke her until both of us are panting. “He’s your priority. Always has been.”
Not that it matters. Not that I’m letting her go. I just need her to be aware of it, dammit.
“He isn’t.” She bares her perfect white teeth at me, snarling. A second later, she moans, wounded and needy. “Don’t—oh—don’t say that. Stop lying. I need him to get better, but I’m here for you.”
With just those clipped words and her bravery, Elowyn dares me to look at her. Really look at her.
“Damn you.” I push inside her with two fingers again, curling them while pressing the heel of my hand to her clit. “Damn you for being so good, little moon. For making me want to pretend the last ten years never happened.”
After a few more harsh strokes, she swells beneath my fingers. Wrapped in the bandages I dressed her in, she trembles in my grip, then shatters all over me, shaking, gasping, crying.
I can’t stand the distance. How her lips are too far from mine.
So I make it fucking right. Leaning in and dragging her into me at the same time, I claim her mouth before she can take her next breath.
My eyes stay open, reveling in her scrunched brows. In the pain and pleasure etched into her face.
I graze that spot inside her again. My cock throbs with every broken sound I draw out of Elowyn. Her screams, her moans, I can’t get enough.
But before another orgasm can take her, I pull out. I drag my hand, slick with her arousal, over her hip and yank her back against me.
I’m not being subtle as I hold her against me. Can’t, when I need her to feel how hard I am. How I want every part of her so much that it vibrates throughout my body.
How the next time she comes, it won’t be on my fingers.
It’ll be on my cock.
She gasps into my mouth, then swipes her tongue over mine as she lifts her hand and softly cups my cheek. And though the warmth of her palm scorches, I finally allow her that intimate touch.
Then I let her break our kiss, though I want nothing more than to keep getting lost in her mouth.
“If Barclay was lying, why didn’t you come for me?” she asks, turning my question against me.
My gaze drops to her swollen, glistening lips, then drags back up to the eyes that have haunted me for over a fucking decade.
“Why?” she repeats.
“Not now. The past doesn’t matter tonight. What comes next does, so listen carefully.” I ignore the hurt in her eyes. Shut down the part of me that wants to soften for her. “I’m going to take that virgin pussy you’ve been saving for me.”
She doesn’t run.
Doesn’t fold.
Doesn’t even look away.
Elowyn slides her hand from my cheek to my jaw, pressing her body to mine, saying, “Okay.”
“I’m going to be rough.” I dig my fingers into her hip. “Going to mark you like no other man ever has or ever will.”
Daring me to follow up on my threat, she tilts her head up and whispers, “Do it.”