Chapter 63
A SAFE PLACE TO LAND
ELOISE
“For you,” Duncan handed me champagne. “For making this whole tour so flawless even just from your laptop in a cabin in bloody Canada.”
I chuckled. “Oh stop. But I will take the champagne.”
He gave me a quick kiss and climbed in bed. “Cheers!”
“Cheers. To a much brighter future after a dynamite tour!”
“I am grateful for your puppetry, darling,” Duncan said.
I sipped champagne and rolled my eyes.
“I mean it. Between that and the whole documentary, it sounded dreadful, but it was good. It was nothing if not a confidence builder.”
“As if you needed confidence, Duncan!”
He scoffed. “I did!”
“You were convinced you could just bat your eyelashes and managed to get in my panties,” I said.
“Didn’t I?”
“You must believe in revisionist history, Duncan!”
He laughed. “I didn’t, okay? I’ll admit it. I was a real wanker and, yet, you gave me a chance.”
“You’re also so sweet, Duncan,” I said. “I have to love all of you, but sometimes I don’t like your acting out.”
“I am learning not to—as much. I still hate dreadful stuffy occasions. That will never change. But, as everyone witnessed, I enjoy them much more with you.”
I shook my head.
“It’s true. And I did lack confidence. I never believed I could carry an entire tour without anything horrid happening. Or look sufficiently diplomatic. You somehow managed to make that work for me. You should be commended.”
“And John. John did a lot of this.”
“I don’t want to see John naked, so there is no need to give out compliments in droves.”
I rolled my eyes. “You saw me naked this morning.”
“For a bloody second. That was all. And I know you’re still… not one hundred percent, so I am not going to push the issue.”
“I feel awful for that, Duncan.”
He kissed me slowly. “I will wait. Or I could go down on you? Would that be safe?”
“You and offering to go down on me! Do you ever tire of it?”
He sat his champagne aside and shook his head. “No. I don’t believe I do.”
Duncan returned, running his hand down my nightgown. He lifted it, now flirting with the side of my panties. “Please. I’m begging now.”
“If you don’t mind seeing the awful scar they left me with.”
“No,” he said. “I don’t mind.”
“Fine.” I nudged him, holding my champagne, as if indifferent.
Of course, I wasn’t. Duncan was about to make me cum hard—for the first time in weeks. It would feel delicious and I would melt. I wanted it now. I felt bad that I still wasn’t up to much more, but if he were to offer, shouldn’t I just accept his kindness.
He worked his way down my body, staring as he pulled my panties off and tossed them away.
“Don’t just stare at me. Get to work,” I gestured with my glass.
“Yes, ma’am.”
I shuddered as he parted my legs.
“Fuck,” I sat the glass down.
I felt like my body might merge with the bed. Damn!
I loved the feeling of his tongue on my clit and the way he eventually worked his fingers inside.
The momentum built perfectly. It was hard to ignore how much he knew about me—and my body.
There was something primal about the way it made me feel.
I got closer, gasping as I did. I needed this orgasm.
It was like I needed to climax to survive.
I wanted so badly to just reach the pinnacle and explode into fireworks.
I gripped his hair for dear life and felt myself tighten around his fingers. I was beyond help. I was coming no matter what. I came, legs quaking. I screamed his name and a long line of swears before descending into inaudible noises. Then, panting, I lay there.
He crawled back up and stared at me.
“Happy?”
I nodded.
He traced my scar as I came back down.
“I can… reciprocate,” I said.
“I really just want to cum on your arse,” Duncan said.
“I could manage that if you’re going to be good and get me a damn towel.”
He hopped out of bed like his legs were on fire. I was still coming back to life, face still hot, but I flipped over. He straddled one of my legs, gripping my arse with one hand. I pretended to be unenthusiastic as ever. It only got him hotter.
“Today, Duncan,” I sighed.
Then, he groaned. I grimaced. I loathed getting cum all over my arse but whatever made him happy in my current state seemed worth it.
“Mop up your mess,” I said.
“Yes, mistress.”
It still made me happy. We could be downright tender one minute and completely unhinged the next.
Everything back to stasis, we finished our champagne.
“I love you, Ella. So much.”
“I love you, too, Duncan. And it’s scary,” I said. “But I gotta just… trust that it will work out.”
“It will,” Duncan promised, kissing my hand. “I promise I will do my absolute best to keep you happy. Always.”
And despite my fears, I squeezed his hand. I believe maybe—just maybe—this crazy thing might work out someday. It was worth a shot.