Page 23 of Bastard In A Suit, Vol. 3

Epilogue

I waketo the feel of leather tentacles skimming across my breasts. My nipples go erect even before I open my eyes. I lick my lips in anticipation, a lazy smile curling the edges of my mouth.

The second pass slides across my abdomen.

I open one eye. Duke stands by the side of the bed, shirtless, faded jeans hung low on his hips. My gaze goes first to his pelvis, and then to the flogger in his hand. His eyebrow rises.

“Have I been a bad girl, Mr. Kingston?”

His expression darkens and I’m instantly turned on. He passes the flogger over my lower belly, and down between my thighs. “Naughty girl,” he says. “You slept in. Your boss will be very upset.”

I lift up onto my elbows. “Perhaps there is a way I can make him feel better?”

Duke’s attention diverts to my hard nipples. “What did you have in mind?” he asks.

I roll over onto my stomach and glance back over my shoulder. “Would you like to punish me, Mr. Kingston?”

A low moan vibrates from his throat. “Oh, you have no idea.”

I grab a fistful of the sheets and squeeze, bracing for the first thwack of Duke’s make-shift whip. The flogger comes down on my skin, and I bite my lip hard.

“That didn’t hurt too badly did it, baby?”

I love that he asks. It’s been weeks since I moved out of my apartment and into Duke’s penthouse. I donated most of my furniture to good will, but Onyx came with me. Duke, a self-proclaimed cat hater didn’t hesitate to adopt him, even gave him his own room.

“Just enough,” I say. He leans down, hot breath against my skin, and leaves a trail of kisses across my bare ass. His wet mouth soothes the burn of the flogger. We’ve talked about buying new toys, but there’s something sentimental about this one.

Duke drops the flogger and climbs on top of me, straddling my lower back to rub his hands up and down my spine. He kneads his knuckles into my muscles, easing out any residual tension after yesterday’s long day at work.

His hands are soothing, magical. I’m afraid I’ll never be able to get enough.

He leans forward to push the hair off my shoulder, and then kisses the back of my neck. Pleasure ripples down my spine. His mouth skims across my back and down to my ribs. He nibbles on the side of my waist and I flinch. “Ticklish,” I say, through a giggle.

He nips again. “You don’t say,” he chuckles.

Duke gently moves off me and rolls me onto my back. Without breaking eye contact, his fingertips dance across my breasts until they catch on my nipples. He pinches them hard enough to make me gasp. His mouth cups one and he starts to suck, as if pulling the pain from them. My body goes pliant.

As his mouth moves down my stomach, one hand slides between my legs and pushes them open. His finger slides along my slit, already slick with arousal. He looks up at me through hooded lashes. “You’re always so wet for me, baby.”

I close my eyes and arch my neck, basking under the heat of his breath as his mouth moves between my thighs. He inhales deep.

“Jesus, Duke…”

His tongue flicks my tight clit. I gasp and arch my pelvis toward his mouth. He takes it between his lips and lightly sucks. My hands cup my own breasts, squeezing hard enough to divert my attention from the intensity of Duke’s heat.

His tongue swirls, and flicks, and slides across my pussy with slow, rhythmic strokes. Fast, or slow, it’s always the same—his mouth is magical, even more skilled that his touch, and I feel my first orgasm begin to build.

I clench his head between my legs and he puts his hands on my knees to spread them wide. This push pull has become part of our routine, his need for dominance warring with my newfound independence. I squeeze my legs together again and he buries his tongue inside me. It darts in and out, increasing in speed and pressure.

“I’m going to come,” I pant.

The words barely leave my lips before a tidal wave of pleasure seems to come from nowhere. My body shudders under the intensity of the orgasm and I thrash on the mattress, grabbing his hair, the sheets, anything within reach. It’s as though every release is more intense than the last.

When at last my body stops trembling, Duke flicks his tongue across my clit and raises his head. His lips glisten with my wetness. I crook a finger and motion for him to come closer. He gives me a devilish grin and crawls up my stomach, pausing to kiss the parts of me that are most sensitive and ticklish—the inside of my thighs, the thin band of skin where my abdomen meets my pelvis, the underside of my breasts.

Finally, his mouth hovers over mine. When he dips forward to kiss me, I loop my arms under his and roll him over so I can straddle him. My fingers hook into his briefs and release his cock. “Thatta boy,” I murmur.

My tongue trails down his pelvis and slides along his throbbing shaft. I circle the head of his cock, and then take it into my mouth. He gasps. “Jesus, Hailey.”