Chapter 46 My Turn
my turn
ROXANNE
The second my back hits the mattress, I know I’m not in control anymore.
Not because I’m powerless, but because I trust him enough to let go.
Duke crawls on top of me, eyes dark and focused, hands planted on either side of my shoulders like he’s bracing himself against the weight of everything he’s been holding back.
He kisses me slowly, greedily, like he’s soaking up every moan I give him. His lips trail over my jaw, down my neck, across my collarbone, each graze sparking against my skin.
His rough hands slide beneath my thighs, parting me, anchoring me as he slowly tugs my soaked panties down and tosses them to the side. I whimper under his touch and bite my lip as he’s taking me in.
“I’ve never seen anything more perfect. You’re so damn sexy, Roxanne.”
I try to speak but he silences me with another hungry kiss. He kisses along my chest, slow and deliberate, tongue brushing across one nipple, then the other, until I’m arching up and calling his name.
“Love it when my name is on your lips,” he says, teasing me with his fingers.
His hands grip my hips, thumbs stroking slow, patient circles.
The world tilts when he pushes his fingers inside me.
Slow, gentle agonizingly good … in and out.
The friction sends a warmth through me like honey in my veins.
“That feels … good,” I breathe.
“And I’m just getting started.”
I almost scream when he stops and kneels down at the edge of the bed.
I let out a quick gasp when, with a swift tug, he pulls me to him and lifts my legs over his shoulders.
I’m already so wet as he goes in for the first taste, his tongue gliding over the most sensitive part of me that’s now pulsating with need.
Every flick, every press, every tease is deliberate.
I can’t stop watching him. The man between my legs is all carved muscle and quiet control, shoulders built like he’s wearing armor, sculpted forearms anchoring me to him.
Every part of him looks like it was forged out of the mountain, like he was made to take on whatever the world throws at him and still hold steady.
His power doesn’t scare me—it grounds me because I know exactly what that strength is for.
It’s for me.
I fist the sheets on either side of me and arch off the bed, making a sound I don’t recognize—something raw and wrecked and utterly undone. Like my body is trying to let go of something I’ve been gripping for years—fear, shame, grief—and his mouth is coaxing it all loose, piece by piece.
My legs tremble like every nerve is lit from the inside.
“Feels … so … good,” I say. It’s like I’m melting and flying all at once.
“You’re so ready … I want you to come.”
“Duke … God. Please…”
He slows down, cruel and tender all at once, and that’s the final straw. A sob slips out of me. Not from pain, from the delicious release I know is about to slam into me from being touched this way … Loved this way.
Tears sting my eyes, and he must hear the shift in my breath, because he lifts his head just enough to look at me.
“Too much?” he asks softly.
I shake my head. My voice breaks. “Don’t stop. Please. I need this. I need you.”
His mouth curves into the faintest smile and I thread my hands through his hair.
“Then let go for me, Roxanne. I want you to let go over and over.”
“Duke,” I gasp, clutching his shoulders. “I can’t… I—”
He murmurs something I don’t hear but feel—a groan against me. My entire body thrums until I can’t hold on any longer. My breath catches, transforming into ragged, eager gasps. And then …
I shatter.
Not like glass.
Like starlight that breaks open and burns brighter.
I’m still panting, trembling, and somewhere between laughter and tears when he lifts his head, lips glistening, hair mussed in the best way.
“You taste like honey,” he purrs.
For a moment, all I can do is marvel at him—the weight of his gaze, the heat still rolling off his skin.
“That was earth-shatteringly good,” I say. “Now it’s your turn.”
“I can’t wait to find out what that means.”
I reach out for him and tug him onto the bed. I shift up, press a kiss onto his lips, then another to his neck, my fingers grazing his waistband.
“Lie down,” I say.
He doesn’t hesitate and obeys, because he knows I’m in charge now.
His chest is rising and falling as I straddle him, watching the way his eyes seem to ignite in the dim light of the bedroom.
He lifts his arms to touch me, but I grab his wrists and pin them to the pillow.
His biceps flex and his jaw clenches and electric current starts to dance under my skin because I know I’m about to watch this man unravel under me.
I smile, and I lean down to kiss him. His hips shift beneath me, but I keep him pinned, my mouth moving with lazy purpose.
I’m doing the teasing this time with a soft nibble on his lower lip, followed by a little scrape of teeth as I trail my mouth to his jaw, his throat, the hollow just beneath his ear where I can feel the pulse pounding wild beneath the skin.
The sounds he’s making threaten to unlock something deep and wild in me.
I breathe him in. He smells so good like cedar and soap.
“Roxanne…” he rasps, voice half-prayer, half-warning.
I don’t let him speak and silence him with another deep kiss.
He’s panting now, every muscle pulled tight beneath me. His hands flex in my grip. His abs ripple with every breath. I let go of his wrists just long enough to command him to get naked. My fingers skim his waistband. “Time to take these off.”
“I take these off and all control goes out the window.”
“Take them off.”
He obeys my command and pushes his boxers down. His eyes lock on mine as I slide my hands over him and shift my hips. He follows the motion and lets me guide us until I’m on top. I straddle him, bare and flushed, my palms pressed to his chest.
God, this man.
The strength of him, the power and the heat coming off him, the way he looks up at me as I grind into him makes me feel more alive than ever.
“Fuck, Roxanne,” he says, his hands holding my hip as we find our rhythm. “You’re so tight.”
He throws his head back and growls as I ride him. Sparks of pleasure race down my spine as I rock against him. He’s thick, perfect, filling me so completely I can hardly breathe. We were made to fit this way.
I’ve never felt this powerful, this beautiful, this free. I move slow, then faster, rhythm building, heat unfurling as I become tighter and tighter. His hands find mine. Our fingers lace.
“Roxanne,” he says between moans. “You feel unreal… I don’t want this to end, but I’m not sure how long I can hold on.”
“Me neither. This is amazing, you’re amazing … I …”
Divine pressure builds in me as well, and as he groans, he grips my thighs like he’s holding on for dear life. Our rhythm builds, fast and desperate now. My body is strung so tight I feel like I might snap in half.
Each thrust sends a shockwave through me, pleasure coiling around my spine and spreading like wildfire under my skin. My breath shatters in my chest. My thighs begin to shake. My vision goes glassy.
I’m right there. Right on the edge where it’s too much, too intense, too everything—and yet not enough.
“Duke—” I’m barely able to get any words out. “I—”
He lifts his hips, meets me one last time with a moan that tears out of him like it’s been living in his bones. I finally break, and the release rushes through me in waves. My whole body arches, seizes, opens.
I cry out—loud and unfiltered—because nothing about this is quiet or small.
It’s thunder and flood and flame. The moment I lose myself, he does too. His body bows under me, trembling.
“Roxanne—oh, God—”
With a final groan, he lets go completely, and we collapse together, hearts thundering in the quiet aftermath. His arms tighten around me like he’s afraid I might disappear. I lift my head to look at him, this strong man made vulnerable by what we’ve just shared.