Chapter 5
Grace
I’ve lost all sense of time, but my body tells me we’ve been fucking for hours.
I’m a boneless mess as Duke lifts his head from between my legs and crawls back up the bed.
When he kisses me, I can taste my most recent orgasm on his lips.
My fourth so far, although this one was a series of mini explosions that almost had me begging Duke and his tongue for mercy as I came with a rush.
When I cup his face, his skin is damp and cold. “Duke, your face is soaking wet. I’ll get a cloth and clean you up,” I add with a note of apology. We haven’t made it to the shower yet, and we’re both too exhausted for now.
“Fuck no,” Duke says with a self-satisfied and sleepy smile. “You squirted over me like a goddamn goddess and I might not wash my face for a week.”
I bring my legs together and as I turn on my side, I’m mortifyingly aware of the damp patch beneath me. “Oh, my god. Isn’t that… gross?”
Duke rolls his eyes, then pulls back the comforter. “Get into bed, Grace.”
With a little readjustment, we both slip beneath the covers and I settle into the crook of his arm. His biceps don’t make the softest of cushions, but I’ve never felt so comfortable in a man’s embrace. Not bad for someone who wanted to push herself out of her comfort zone.
Duke is clearly comfortable too because within minutes he’s snoring softly. I had hoped we’d talk, just a little. I want to know more about him, but I have to accept it’s for the best. Talking suggests an intimacy that goes beyond what we agreed. It’s a one-night stand. Nothing more.
Despite my exhaustion, I’m restless. I rise up carefully on an elbow so I can drink in every detail of the man who’s going to be the subject of my every fantasy, possibly for the rest of my life.
I stroke my fingertips over his broad shoulders.
There are small scars I hadn’t noticed before, but nothing as prominent as the ones I feel as I trail my finger upwards to the side of his head.
Instinctively, I lean across and press gentle kisses along a two-inch scar before moving on to another. His wounds are jagged. They’re not surgical cuts.
“What are you doing?” Duke asks sleepily.
I plant another series of kisses over his scalp. “Kissing you better,” I whisper.
Duke peels open his eyes and takes a deep inhale. “I appreciate the gesture,” he says on the exhale, “but that’s not possible.”
I settle back into his arms. His crystal blue eyes are bottomless pools rather than ice. “What happened?”
He kisses my nose. “Goodnight, Angel.”
Fine, he’s not going to tell me. I’ll just have to make up some heroic story to add to my fantasy. “Goodnight my sweet prince.”
A gentle laugh rumbles up through his chest. “Prince?”
“After all your good deeds tonight, I think you deserve to be elevated above a duke.”
He threads his fingers through my hair and ghosts his lips over mine. His voice is hoarse when he says, “Thank you.”
I can’t imagine what he could possibly be thanking me for, and it’s a question I don’t ponder for long as I settle back against him and we both fall asleep.
I’m not sure if it’s the low rumble of voices or the absence of Duke’s arms that drags me back to consciousness, but as I stretch out on the otherwise empty bed, the spot where he’d been sleeping is cold.
Duke turned all the lights off at some point, but there’s the telltale sign of dawn creeping through the edges of the blinds. I don’t see a clock and my purse is in the other room so I have no way of checking the time. I doubt it matters. It’s morning and he has to leave. Our time together is over.
Holding my breath, I try to listen to what’s being said next door.
I recognize the rumble of Duke’s voice, but the other man could be his boss, or maybe Max, his fellow guard.
From the tone of the conversation, they’re talking business.
Duke’s probably already dressed in a suit while I’m still very much naked.
I don’t want to be the problem he has to get rid of. I need to move.
My legs feel ridiculously weak as I climb out of bed.
Duke’s shirt is still on the floor and I slip it on before heading for the bathroom.
After rolling up the sleeves, I tug the shirt’s collar to my nose and breathe in the scent of citrus and cedar.
I have it bad for this man and our simple trade in orgasms feels far more complicated than it should.
A groan escapes. I squirted over his damn face.
As tempting as a shower would be, I don’t want to overstay my welcome. I clean myself up as best I can and creep back into the bedroom. Duke still hasn’t appeared.
I find my dress and bra easily enough, but there’s no sign of my thong.
I crouch down to look under the bed, but there’s only an inch between the base and the floor.
It’s not there. Where the hell could it be?
Pressing my cheek to the deep pile carpet, I scan the rest of the room.
It’s caught on the foot of the heavy mirror Duke moved back into a corner after I’d watched myself come undone.
My groan this time is an echo of the pleasure I’d experienced riding his beautiful cock.
“If you promised to greet me like that every time I came into a room, Angel, I’d sneak you back to Chicago with me.”
I rise up onto all fours and look over my shoulder. My insides twist at the sight of Duke in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. Boxer shorts that are tenting. He’s grinning at me, not the least bit self-conscious, but then, I am the one with my ass in the air.
“I was just getting dressed,” I explain.
Duke uses a foot to tap the inside of my calves to open my legs. “I prefer you in my shirt.”
He kneels down into the space he’s made and slides his hand along the length of my pussy. “Duke,” I gasp. “I need to go.”
His hand stills. “Is there somewhere you need to be today?”
It’s Saturday and I’m not working. Nor am I in any rush to go home and face Cameron. “No, but–” I cry out as he pinches my clit hard enough to make my hips buck.
“Then you don’t need to go anywhere,” Duke corrects me. “But you do need to come.”
I close my eyes and lose myself to the touch of his fingertips.
He knows exactly how much pressure I need, knows when I want more and when I need less, just from the sounds I make.
I’m aching and swollen, but my body demands I take everything Duke’s willing to give.
In no time at all, I’m huffing out a breath as the first flutters travel up through my core.
“That’s it, my sweet fucking angel,” he encourages, his voice rasping. “You know what to do. Let me hear you come. Let me hear those sweet noises you make.”
Coiling heat builds in my center as his fingers continue to play me like an instrument. My body vibrates with the need for release, but then I remember the growing need I’d spied straining against Duke’s boxers.
“Don’t you want to…” The words die on my lips as I turn to find Duke with his fist wrapped around his cock. He twists his wrist and pumps himself in sync with the hand he’s using on me. Tension coils around my core so tightly I groan.
“You like watching me fuck my fist, don’t you, Grace?” Duke asks without breaking rhythm.
“Yes,” I gasp out as my insides turn molten. “And I’ll like it more if you spread your cum over my tongue. Over my tits.”
A grunt escapes as his hand moves faster. “Then you need to come fast because I can’t hold back much longer,” he hisses. “Come for me, Angel. Come for me right fucking now.”
I’m already there, hovering over the precipice and Duke’s command is all it takes to tip me over the edge.
I’m falling as I let go and then flying, carried by the wave of ecstasy that has me throwing back my head as I cry.
“God, yes! Yes, Duke.” Another wave hits.
And another. “Anything for you.” I’m slowly coming down. “Anything.”
“Lie down. On your back,” Duke says through gritted teeth as he fights his own release. “Now.”
I happily collapse onto the floor and Duke straddles my waist. He fists himself with renewed urgency, leaning forward as I lift my head. I open my mouth and stick out my tongue as the first stream of cum shoots from his pulsing cock.
“Fuuuuck,” Duke cries out as he coats my tongue some more. “Let me paint you, Grace.”
He rips open the oversized shirt I’m wearing and hums through his release as he covers my breasts with ribbons of cum.
While I swallow his salty seed, Duke pumps himself dry.
He falls forward when he’s done, bracing against one arm while he collects the cum dripping from my chin and pushes it into my mouth. I hold his gaze as I suck his finger.
The man smiling down at me bears no resemblance to the stony-faced security guard who almost threw me out of the hotel last night. There’s a sparkle behind those eyes when he says, “Who knew we’d get to the point where I could make you come on command.”
I cup his face, my thumbs stroking cheeks that have become rough with stubble. “I feel safe with you, that’s why,” I explain, which is only a part truth.
Yes, Duke has provided a safe space for me to be vulnerable, but at the same time, he’s made me feel capable. Not judged. Not pressured. I feel seen. Cherished. Loved. Not in the romantic sense. That would be ridiculously fast. But cared for on a human level.
Tears well in my eyes at the thought of saying goodbye. Until Duke taps my nose. “Come on,” he says. “I need a shave and I still owe you that shower. No fucking. Just pampering. We still have a whole day to get through.”
My heart stutters. “What do you mean, a day?”
“You don’t need to be anywhere, and now I don’t either,” he says, standing up. “I’ve revised my schedule and I won’t be heading back to Chicago until eight tonight.” He pulls me to my feet and scoops me into his arms, bridal fashion. “And I don’t intend to leave this room all day.”