His palms slide up my ribs, then drift lower, tracing the dip of my waist before settling on my hips. His mouth follows, kissing his way down my chest, over the center of my stomach.
Each slow press of his lips leaves a trail of warmth that makes my back arch off the bench. His mouth finds the inside of my thigh, a slow, reverent kind of worship that steals the air from my lungs.
“Duke,” I whisper.
“Hmm?”
“You’re torturing me.”
He smiles against my skin. “Good.”
“I swear, if you don’t?—”
“Patience, Trouble.”
My pulse jumps. “I’ve been patient,” I say, curling my fingers into his damp hair. “I want you to fuck me right now.”
He lifts his head and blinks. He’s startled—and then his expression shifts. “Yes ma’am.”
The kiss that follows is a collision—hungry, and a little wild. His weight presses me deeper into the bench, his body hot and solid against mine. His hand slides under me, tilting my hips just so, and when he pushes inside, I gasp. The world narrows to heat and heartbeat—skin against skin, breath against breath, each spark of contact flickering between us like a thousand fireflies lighting the dark.
“Mercy, you’re so wet …”
“You feel so good,” I say through my moans.
His thrusts become more demanding, more primal, more desperate. Our bodies move together, perfectly in tune as my heart hammers in my chest. My breath comes fast and shallow, trying to keep up with everything I’m feeling.
I drag my nails down his back and he groans, quickening his pace. Every last piece of me starts to unravel and when his teeth graze my neck, my skin hums like a struck chord against his. Westop being two separate people, we are one, rising and falling, crashing and separating until we finally melt into one another.
“I want you to come,” he says. “I want to feel you …”
Each time he pushes into me, pleasure pulses through me like fire and light and something I didn’t know I was holding until it broke. I fall over the edge with a cry I don’t recognize, every muscle pulls taut, every part of me reeling. It’s not just release, it’s rapture, it’s revelation. It’s Duke, everywhere, all at once.
My eyes peel apart as I’m gasping for air while Duke’s eyes squeeze shut, jaw tight—he’s coming undone from the inside out. He finally lets go with a moan. He doesn’t hold back, and it’s breathtaking watching a man who’s always in control surrender.
I wrap my quivering arms around him as he goes limp on top of me.
He stills and he rolls to his back beside me. I feel his heartbeat slow, matching mine until there’s nothing left between us but the sound of our breaths.
“That was amazing,” I say.
He rests his arm over his forehead. “Yeah, I need a minute.”
After a short beat, he shifts to one side, his thumb traces lightly along my jaw. “You’re something I’ve been missing for a long time.”
I swallow hard as my heart stutters.
“How the hell am I supposed to be okay with you walking away after this?” he asks, staring at me in a way that makes me feel exposed and vulnerable because it’s the painful reality that threatens to bring frost into the sauna.
My mouth opens, and for once, the truth spills out. “You’re not the only one scared of that.”
His eyes soften, but I can see the storm still flickering behind them.
“I wasn’t just trying to get your attention, Duke,” I add quietly. “I hate being away from you. I miss you andyour coffee.”
“Hmmm, so this is just about my coffee?”
“I’m no good without a fully automatic espresso machine.”
