14. Duke
DUKE
It’s physically painful for me to lie next to her and not be touching her. She’s inches away from me, in my bed, where I’ve never let another woman sleep. There are at least four other guest rooms in this house since everyone moved out where she would have been comfortable.
But I wanted her in here, with me. I planned on sleeping on the sofa in case Pops woke up and he needed me. If I went upstairs to my old room, I might not hear him if he got up and fell while wandering the house at night.
And I don’t want to be alone. After the emotional past few weeks and the wedding tonight, I can’t imagine forcing myself to go upstairs and sleep in a cold guest room when the option to be beside her is right here, calling my name like a siren song.
I sit up to reach for the lamp switch. Her hand snakes out and grabs mine. Her green eyes pop open.
“Please stay.” Her voice is a hoarse whisper.
I keep holding on to her hand as I reach over and flip off the lamp. I slide under the covers, moving right up next to her. I pull her warm body flush against mine.
We don’t need words. My hands move over her curves, mapping out her body. I start at her waist, pinching softly before moving farther down to her wide, inviting hips. They’re the perfect size for my fingers to wrap around.
My lips find her ear in the dark. “Where’d all that attitude go, darlin’?”
She pushes her ass back, grinding up against my growing erection. I groan into her neck, pulling her up to my chest. I slide my hands over her breasts, kneading them over her tank top. She gasps, her hands grabbing the top of mine.
I pause, waiting for her to push me away. She doesn’t. My fingers slide down over her stomach, brushing under the waistband of her tiny shorts.
“You want me to stop?”
She presses her ass up against my erection, making stars swim above my head.
I’m so hard, it’s painful. I take her movements as an answer and continue sliding my fingers down into her shorts.
I find her slick with arousal. She gasps when my fingers slip over her wetness.
I leisurely brush across the bud of nerves at her clit.
I can tell she needs this. She lays her head back against my shoulder, her hair tickling my cheek. I keep rubbing her and grinding against her ass, my dick sliding between her round ass cheeks, separated by her shorts and my sweats.
I’ve never come in my pants, but I’m getting dangerously close when she whimpers my name. Our bodies are writhing together, the heat building under the covers in the dark. She’s so wet that my fingers are drenched with it. I pinch her clit, making her release a breathy moan and ride my hand harder.
I thrust upward, wishing I were buried inside her.
Her hand comes back to wrap around my neck.
I suck her earlobe into my mouth, nibbling on the soft flesh and continuing to finger her.
I press my middle finger against her slick entrance, pushing it in an inch.
She stills, waiting for me to keep going.
I push it farther in before pulling it back out.
My thumb finds her clit, rubbing in circles before I push my middle finger all the way inside her.
“Mm… Duke …” she moans again, her legs starting to vibrate around my hand.
“You’re so fucking hot when you’re riding my hand, baby.”
My release is coming hard and fast. She’s getting close, too, if her heavy panting is any indicator. I reach my other hand around to grip her hair at the roots, holding her head in place.
She lets out one last whimper before her legs tense up and her body goes rigid. I keep my fingers moving until she cries out and jerks her hips back. My dick jolts against her ass cheeks, a groan escaping me at the same time my orgasm rushes over me.
I come inside my sweats against her ass, ecstasy rushing over my skin. I hold her hair tightly, thrusting up into her one more time and savoring the feeling before finally slowing down my movements and growing still behind her.
Then she bolts. I don’t even have time to react before she jumps out of bed, gasping.
“What’s wrong?” My heart thumps loudly in my chest.
She sounds like she’s having a panic attack. I sit up, flipping the lamp back on.
She’s on the floor, knees hugged up to her chest. She’s rocking back and forth, sobbing. Fear grips me. I drop down to my knees beside her and reach out to brush her hair away from her face.
She pulls back, pressing herself up to the foot of the bed. I can’t see her face, but the sound of her sobs wrecks me.
I wait for her to calm down. It takes a long time, at least twenty minutes. It’s painful to watch, but I don’t know what else to do.
Finally, after what feels like hours, she dries her eyes with her shirt and rises to stand. She doesn’t look at me before disappearing into the bathroom and closing the door.
I hear the shower running. I’ve never felt so helpless in my entire life. I change my soiled pants and climb back into bed. Instead of sitting in tense silence where my racing thoughts attempt to come up with an explanation for what the fuck just happened, I grab the remote and turn on the TV.
I navigate to The Office, episode one, and hit Play.
Halfway through the episode, she walks out of the bathroom and climbs into bed. I catch a glimpse of her red-rimmed puffy eyes before she settles under the covers on the far end of the bed, turned away from me.
Finally, her breathing seems to even out.
And all I can do is wonder what that worthless piece of shit ex-husband did to make her react that way to an orgasm.
Over the next week, Dallas and I don’t speak about what happened between us the night of the wedding. She’s still staying in the main house since Sterling is in the bunkhouse with Eden, but she’s definitely avoiding me. She started sleeping in one of the guest rooms upstairs.
She leaves and comes back with the boys on Tuesday morning, but since she’s working every night, she puts them to bed at Rosie’s house and starts sleeping over there.
I’m busy caring for Pops full-time and working on the ranch until the following Friday, when Holden comes over to help feed him dinner after the nurse leaves.
I’m taking a much-needed walk outside with a lowball glass of whiskey in my hand.
I exhale, hating that I’m just ready for it to be over.
The hospice team has started administering morphine, and his room is basically a hospital setup with an IV drip.
As of today, he has a catheter tube sticking out of him.
Watching my father die has been a shitty, depressing experience. When it’s my turn to go, I want it to be quick. I never thought I’d be grateful my mother’s sudden death happened the way it did, but I’m glad she didn’t have to suffer for so long, like he is.
Tires on the gravel driveway draw my attention, and I turn to see a red truck pulling up. My instinct is to stiffen, but I force myself to relax against the fence as Matt drives by me, going fast, up to the bunkhouse front porch.
He steps out of the truck, wearing a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses, slacks, and a white button-down dress shirt. He has a bouquet of flowers in his hand.
I watch as he approaches the door and knocks on it. She must have agreed to meet him over there because Dallas answers, her face dropping when she sees the flowers in his hand. I take a slow sip of my whiskey, too far away to hear every word being exchanged.
I catch date and pretty, gathering that Matt is trying to ask her out. Her face gives away her feelings. She shakes her head, taking a step back and crossing her arms.
Matt raises the flowers and slams them against the porch before throwing his hands up. I take a step toward them, increasing my pace when I see her flinch back.
“Ungrateful bitch! You’re stuck-up, and that’s always been your problem. You think you’re better than everyone. Need I remind you, you work at a bar?”
I make it to the porch, downing the rest of my drink before setting the glass on the railing. I step up behind him, squaring my shoulders back.
“Is there a problem here?”
Oyster runs up behind me, barking like he knows something isn’t right.
Dallas’s cheeks flush, but she shakes her head. Her eyes are fearful.
Matt turns to face me, gritting his teeth. “I’m having a conversation with my sons’ mother. It’s none of your business.”
I shrug, popping my knuckles as I lean back against the porch railing. “You’re just here to pick up the boys though, right?”
His eye twitches. I tilt my head, letting the silence stretch between us. The flowers are strewn out on the porch between us.
“Duke, it’s really okay. The boys are ready to go. Dawson, Dutton, it’s time to leave. Your dad is here.”
She brings the boys out onto the porch, and Matt doesn’t break eye contact with me until they’re outside. He bends down to pick up Dutton.
“Hey, buddy. You ready to go? You guys are gonna have a great time with Dad today.” He grabs Dawson’s hand, who’s still trying to hold on to Dallas.
Dutton starts crying. “Mommy! I want to stay with Mommy!”
Matt walks toward the truck, ignoring the pleas. Dawson’s little jaw is set as he turns back to wave bye to his mom. Dallas’s eyes are red as she waves goodbye. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, seeing Holden’s name light up the screen. My stomach sinks right as Matt’s truck pulls away.
I don’t even need to answer, but I do anyway, my eyes meeting Dallas’s misty ones.
“Hello?”
“Hey … you’d better get back over here.” My older brother’s voice is tight.
I swallow, blinking back the emotion building. My chest suddenly feels hollow.
“I’m coming.”
Dallas reaches forward, grasping my hand.
The funeral is two days later. We had everything picked out in advance.
I feel like I’m in a daze as we carry the casket toward the gravesite.
My three brothers and I are each carrying one corner of it.
Sam is walking close behind to make sure we don’t need more help, but the four of us are able to carry it alone.
My face is solemn as we set it down gently beside the headstone. My mother is buried right next to him in the far eastern pasture, under a large oak tree.
I clasp my hands in front of me while I listen to Pastor George read off some Bible verses and drone on about how my father was a strong leader, a family man, and a successful businessman.
It’s all lies. I know the truth.
My father was a weak man.