Duke: Alpha One Security: Book 3 Read online

  More, and more.

  He was sighing and groaning, and his hips were flexing, fluttering.

  “Goddamn.” He hissed this, teeth clenched. “Don’t stop.”

  “Mmm-mmmm,” I hummed a negative, and he twitched at the vibrations.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” he grunted, his hand cupping my nape, now.

  I knelt a little lower, tilted him away from his body, and looked up at him from under my eyelashes. “Mmm-hmmm?”

  “Fuck, Temple. You hum like that again, I’m not gonna have a chance to warn you. I’ll just blow down your throat.”

  Which was an intriguing idea—more because of the thought of a man like Duke losing control than because I was, like, super excited for an unexpected load of cum down my throat. I increased the pace of my twisting, plunging, stroking fist, and started moving my mouth on him faster. I even took him a little deeper.

  He groaned, and his grip on my neck tightened, but he still didn’t try to push me onto him.

  Smart guy.

  A man brought as close to the edge of orgasm as I had Duke in that moment, though…he’d do anything to come. He had no control over his faculties. Yet even like this, Duke was holding back. Not really gripping me as hard as I suspected he could, with those huge, powerful hands. And he wasn’t fucking. He was a monster of a man, and I suspected he possessed a libido to match. He liked to fuck. But he was holding back.

  I kind of liked that. Yet…I wanted to be able to make him lose control. Like, completely. I was a little scared of what he’d do, but I was curious just as much.

  So…time to up the ante.

  Both hands around his cock, twisting, sliding down and gliding up, spreading my saliva around, I hummed, and it was a hum of my own pleasure. Erotic, a deep, breathy moan. A little faked, sure, because I wasn’t getting any sexual enjoyment from this, but I was enjoying his reactions. The way he flexed his hips to get deeper, the way his jaw flexed and released, and a long low groan escaped him. The way his hands buried into my hair and gripped tightly, as if fighting the urge to pull me toward him.

  Another hum, and his entire body twitched.

  “Fuck!” he grunted. “Temple, I—oh…fuck.”

  And that was it. I felt him tense, felt his cock throb.

  I fucked him with my mouth, then. Held onto his dick with both hands, tilting it toward my face, and started bobbing hard and fast, not thinking about how deep I took him, just fucking him with my lips as quickly as I was could. I felt him at the back of my throat, and my moan turned to an almost-gag, and then his fingers in my hair jerked twice.

  “Temple, goddamn Temple—I’m—oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.”

  I’m not a swallower. I never swallowed Lane’s cum; the few times I did blow him I’d go down on him until he got close to coming, and then we’d fuck. I never blew him to orgasm. When I went down on Trent, he came into my hands, which was…messy, but better than taking it down my throat, I’d figured at the time. So, even though I’ve given BJs before, I’ve never swallowed. I don’t really know what cum tastes like, TBH.

  I was about to find out.

  Duke came with a shouted “FUCK!” so loud I was pretty sure they heard it across town. His cock throbbed between my lips, and then I felt something wet and hot and salty hit the back of my throat. A surprised hum left me, and then I had to either swallow or choke, so I swallowed. It was thick and viscous, sliding warm down my throat. Salty, musky, a little tang and a hint of sweetness. Another spurt of cum filled my mouth, and this time I was ready for it. It pooled in my mouth, coated my tongue, and the taste of his cum was strong, potent, but not necessarily unpleasant. I swallowed again while glancing up at him, and discovered his eyes open, watching me. I went down on him once more, taking his cock to the back of my throat and then backed away, opened my mouth so the head of his dick sat on my tongue, and he twitched against my tongue and his abs flexed and his jaw clenched, and he curled forward over himself as he shot one last stream of cum onto my tongue. I grinned up at him, feeling satisfied with my performance, enjoying how spent he was, how rocked he looked. I stuck my tongue out, showing him his own cum. And then I swallowed it.

  Duke stood over me, gasping, chest heaving. “Holy motherfucking hell, Fancy,” he said, reaching down to lift me to my feet. “That was…”

  I gave him a coy look. “It was what?”

  He wiped his thumb across my lips. “The hottest blow job I’ve ever gotten.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Bullshit.”

  He flicked open a button of my shirt with one hand, and began gathering the fabric of my skirt with his other. “For real.”

  I stood still, reminding myself to keep breathing. “A manwhore like you? I’m sure you’ve gotten hundreds of BJs. No way that was the best one.”

  He frowned. “How do you know I’m a manwhore?”

  His fingers traipse up between my thighs, tickling and teasing and touching on the way up. Brush my slit, and I jerk, thighs clenching, and then I relax myself for his touch.

  “Aren’t you?”

  He bobs his head side to side. “I guess, yeah. But why do you assume?”

  “You’re gorgeous, you have money, you’re a badass commando…” I shrug. “Just stands to reason. Maybe it was an unfair assumption on my part, though.”

  He can’t help a pleased look from crossing his features. “Gorgeous, huh?”

  I roll my eyes again. “You know you are. No point in fishing for compliments.”

  “Yeah, but everyone likes to hear it every now and again.”

  “True,” I say, on a sigh, as he slips a finger through my folds. “Just because I’m a reality star and on magazine covers and whatever, most guys I fuck just sort of assume I know what I look like and that I don’t need to be told that they think I’m pretty. So then no one ever—oh…ohmygod—no one ever says it.”

  He slipped that finger through my slit again and again, not quite going in, not quite touching my clit. But still, it felt good. The teasing made me needier than I already was, made me unsure of what he was going to do next.

  “You’re not pretty,” Duke says.

  I stare at him. “Excuse me?”

  He steps back, using both hands to open my shirt the rest of way, letting go of my skirt. The gray fabric swirls back down around my knees, and I’m left gasping.

  He circles around behind me, tugs down the zipper of the skirt, and it falls to the floor, leaving me naked from the waist down. He pulls the white button down off my shoulders, letting it fall around my wrists. And then, in a series of movements too fast and complicated for me follow, he tied the ends of the shirt around my wrists, binding my hands behind my back.

  “Wait, what?” I tug, but I’m helpless. “Let me go, Duke. What are you doing?”

  He didn’t answer. Just stalked back around in front of me, and slid one index finger underneath the elastic band of my bralette, tugging it up over my tits bit by bit until I was bared, the skimpy maroon lace rolled up across the top of my chest. My tits hung free, and my nipples hardened under his gaze.

  “What—what did you mean, I’m not pretty?” Stupid, I know, but I still felt unreasoning panic at the idea that he thought I was ugly.

  Of course he didn’t think that. The look in his eyes, the way he was staring at me, eyeing me head to toe, the way his cock, which I just sucked dry, twitched and hardened a little—he thought I was hot. He’d already said as much. He was playing me for a drawn out compliment, I know it. But when you hear a man say those words: you’re not pretty…it just kind of automatically hits some nerve inside you, hits your confidence and makes you doubt what you know to be true.

  “You’re fucking…” he trailed off, hunting for the right word, standing a foot away from me, not touching, just staring at my tits, “—You’re…perfect.”

  “Perfect?” Stupid—I’m so stupid. Why did my voice sound so breathless and eager and hopeful, and…unsure? “You’re crazy.”

  “Eh, that’s debatab
le,” he said. “Irrelevant to the fact that you’re a perfect woman. Like, completely perfect looking.”

  He was behind me again, whispering in my ear, his voice hot and low against my earlobe; his hands appeared around front of me, sliding up my ribcage to cup my breasts from beneath.

  “These? Perfect.”

  Then slid his hands down, one hand gripping my hipbone and the other delving between my thighs to cup my pussy. “This? Perfect. I can’t wait to get on my knees and see what your beautiful, perfect little cunt tastes like.”

  Oh fuck. Oh my fuck. The things he was saying, the dirty, filthy words seared through me, sending desire dripping out of said beautiful, perfect little cunt. Perfect? I’ve been called a lot of things in my life—hot, sexy, lovely even, cute, beautiful, fuckable, dumb blonde, vapid airhead, no-talent reality star, bitch, slut, whore, ‘ten out of ten body, but needs a bag over her head,’—in all my life, nobody has ever called me…perfect.

  He w’asnt done, though. His hands moved around behind me, clutching a double handful of my ass. “This? More than perfect. This ass right here, Fancy? This thing is…mmm. Goddamn. It’s fucking incredible.”

  My throat closed, tightened, went hot and thick. I swallowed hard, then, blinking. God, I’m such a dumbass, letting his words get to me. He didn’t mean them. He wanted to fuck me, and figured he was more likely to get what he wanted if he buttered me up.

  “I’m already a sure thing for at least one fuck, Duke.” I endeavored to sound casual, and mostly succeeded. “You don’t have to blow smoke up my ass.”

  He sidled around front again. His palm completely missed my tits, for some reason, and landed on my chin; weird, I thought he’d have better aim, being a commando.

  Duke cupped the side of my face with his big rough stupid beautiful bear paw of a hand. “But this…”

  His thumb brushed over my cheekbone, just beneath my eye. I had to meet his gaze then, and those eyes of his, good god, those eyes…they burned into me. They seemed able to see my secrets and insecurities, which I work so hard to hide.

  “This, Temple Kennedy. This face of yours?” That big thumb, sliding again over my lips, then my cheekbone. “Your face is the most beautiful part of you.”

  “Bullshit.” Now…why did I whisper that?

  And why did I sound so…like I was obviously lying? Or maybe I just sounded desperate to believe him, but afraid to.

  He ignored me yet again. Remained in front of me, cupping my face, but his other hand slid around to find my ass again. “And let me tell you something, Fancy. If I blow anything up your ass, it sure as hell won’t be smoke.” His long middle finger teased up and down the crack of my butt.

  Oh.

  Oh.

  Oh my god.

  Did he just?

  “Is that a hint at fucking me in the ass?” I demanded.

  His teeth sank into my earlobe, and then his whisper huffed hot on my ear. “Not a hint, sweetheart. A promise.” He cupped my ass cheek, lifted, pulled it aside, and then let it bounce free. “This ass? It was made to be fucked. Slowly, over the course of hours, until you’re begging me to just fuck you and come inside you. And, when I do? You’ll come so hard for so long it’ll hurt. You’ll squirt everywhere.”

  His other hand cupped my pussy, a fingertip teasing my clit. “You ever come so hard you squirt?”

  I shook my head. “N-no.”

  “Oh yeah, this is gonna be fun, Fancy.”

  I was dripping with desire; I felt it sliding down my thighs. I needed him to touch me. I needed him to make me come; Duke has me worked up, has me twitching and gasping and desperate.

  “Stop teasing me, goddammit,” I said.

  He slid a finger against my clit. “Wanna come, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I whispered.

  “How bad?” He pressed that fingertip against my clit in a light, teasing touch.

  I thrusted against his finger. “Really bad.”

  Duke’s finger circled slowly, touching gently. The contact had me writhing, pushing my hips forward in an attempt to get more, but he easily thwarted my efforts, continuing to tease me. “I don’t know if I believe you, Fancy.”

  His chest was hard against my back, his cock a thick, semi-erect ridge between us. I leaned my head back against his shoulder, struggling against the shirt binding my wrists together behind my back. Tried again to thrust against his fingertip.

  “Please, Duke,” I whispered.

  “I like that,” he growled in response. “Hearing you beg.”

  I hissed in irritation. “Oh yeah? It makes you hot and horny to hear me beg, huh? You get off on power trips? Fine, I’ll beg.”

  I pivoted away from him, stood facing him, hands bound behind my back, naked except for the rolled-up lace of my bralette. I felt the fire sparking in my eyes as I spoke, putting the lie to my plea.

  “Please, Duke. Please,” I said, my voice monotone, uninflected. “I’m begging you, make me come. I’m desperate. Oh please.”

  His mouth curved in an amused grin. “You’re a saucy little minx, aren’t you?”

  “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

  He blinked slowly, erotic promise in his eyes, that wild, amused grin on his lips. “It means that wasn’t begging.” He gripped me at the waist, lifted me effortlessly; my legs went around his body instinctively, and now I felt his cock nudging my entrance, not quite hard yet, but getting there. Enough to tease.

  “No?” I was utterly helpless, hands bound behind my back. I had only my legs to cling to him with and, in all honesty, I liked the way he held me, the way his hands felt on my ass, keeping me aloft without so much as a tremor of effort. “Then what was it?”

  He didn’t answer me. Again. Instead, he pivoted and walked out of the room, carrying me into the kitchen. Set me on the counter beside the refrigerator, then pulled me to the edge of the counter. Then…just stood there, staring at me.

  Duke should have looked dumb, standing half naked like he was, wearing a tight T-shirt, his guns still in place in that double shoulder-holster harness, and combat boots but no pants. Like for real, he should look stupid and silly, but he didn’t. He looked hot. His cock was almost erect now, and his thighs were thick and heavy with muscle and dusted with reddish hair, and his shirt was tight against his chest and showed off hints of his abs, and just…damn. So damn sexy. I’ve never really admired a man’s legs before, honestly. Like, you look at a buff dude, you don’t really look at his legs. You look at his chest, his arms, his abs….his cock. But his legs? Nah. Duke, though, half undressed as he was, I couldn’t help but admire his legs, how strong they were, how beautifully, masculine, how muscular they were.

  He didn’t look stupid at all. He looked like I wanted him to put that big fat beautiful cock inside me, is what he looked like.

  Which irritated me. I didn’t want to want him, as I’ve already pointed out. Wanting him as much as I did frustrated me—I was annoyed at and disgusted with myself for being so stupid, for being so powerless to fight the desires of my pussy. Do you have any idea how annoying it is to be annoyed at yourself? No, probably not. But there I was, sitting completely naked on a counter, legs open, pussy throbbing, a non-stop pulse of need; the throb of my pussy was saying fuck me, lick me, touch me. Wanting him. Staring at his huge cock, now all but fully erect within minutes of blowing his load into my mouth. I hadn’t even touched him, which was the shocking part. Was he really that virile? Or was he actually that attracted to me? Both? I hoped for both. It’d be my luck that he’d just be that virile and it had nothing to do with me, which would be a blow to my ego…which wasn’t as iron-clad as most people assumed. Far less so, TBH.

  And he just looked at me.

  “I thought you were going to give me an orgasm?” I asked.

  He stroked his cock with his fist. “Oh, I will.”

  “When? Because it seems like you’re stalling, maybe hoping I’ll just let you fuck me instead of holding you to your end of our bargain.�
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  “I’m waiting for you to beg, Fancy.” He said this with a leer, his fist sliding slowly up and down his impressive length.

  “You agreed, Duke. I blow you, you go down on me. That was the deal. Why would I beg you for something you agreed to? Especially when you, as you said, always keep your promises?”

  He sidled closer, fist gliding on his cock. “Because it’s more fun when you beg.”

  “More fun for who?” I whispered, hating myself for losing my voice at his proximity.

  “Both of us.”

  “You already got your fun,” I said. “I swallowed your fun about two minutes ago.”

  He stood between my thighs, gripping his cock at the root, and teased the lips of my pussy with the head of his dick. And damn, damn, damn…it felt amazing when he did that.

  “Babe,” he said, “I don’t think you understand how this is going to work.”

  He pushed into my pussy, splitting the labia open millimeter by millimeter, sliding into me in torturous, aching, delicious increments.

  “Oh fuck,” I whispered, the expletive yanked out of me by the glorious feel of him inside me. “What don’t I understand?”

  “Me.” He pushed all the way in, taking all of thirty seconds to fully penetrate me. “How I work. What I do, and how I do it.”

  “Oh god.” Another gasping curse jerked out of my mouth, beyond my control as he pulled back. “Obviously not. You should—oh Jesus—maybe you should explain.”

  “I’m good at a lot of things,” he said, beginning slow, deep, rhythmic thrusts, “but there’s two things I’m a goddamn master of.”