with bad, mediocre, passable and great sex, I knew that the act of having a man suck on your nipples was not enough to make you come. Sure, if done right, it might get you excited, not for the feeling but for the fact a man who takes the time to worship your body in that way is usually going to pay better attention to things south of the nipple.
I’d never been fond of it, if I was honest. It was either sloppy, too rough, or too weak.
But like Goldilocks, I’d found a nipple sucking that was just right.
My thighs clenched, my stomach tightened, and I let out a small noise from between my pursed lips.
Duke returned this with a deep and feral growl from the back of his throat. One hand was on my neck, the other pushing up the fabric of my nightgown.
He didn’t stay at my nipple for long, which I was glad about. He was good with his mouth and I was greedy, horny, and really ready for an orgasm.
Duke didn’t waste any time with kissing his way down my stomach, didn’t even look up at me. He was too focused on his task. There was a desperation to him that turned me on even more. Popular culture liked to paint men as liking the act of going down on women, but in reality, they were lazy and happy to receive oral, certainly not give it.
Duke’s lips over the top of my panties told me he was a giver.
Big time.
My hands yanked at his hair, not even caring if I pulled it out from the roots. I wanted to hurt him for showing me this kind of pleasure—knowing it was only temporary—that I’d carry around the memory that this existed and not even my vibrator would be able to live up to it.
Such thoughts were violently silenced the second Duke pushed my panties aside and laid his lips right there.
Then he worked the fingers too.
The fact he was doing this without so much as kissing me first was that much more intense and erotic. He was devouring me with an intensity I’d only entertained in my fantasies—with the cynical knowledge such hunger to please couldn’t exist in men.
My climax came quick, intense, and never ending.
Duke didn’t relent during my cries, during the spots that danced in front of my vision. He was ruthless, and I almost pleaded at him to stop, unsure if my body could handle another orgasm.
As it was, it hit me before I could regain control over my motor functions.
I must’ve blacked out or something, since the next thing I heard was banging. Knocking.
Duke was no longer in between my legs. My panties were back in their previous position, my robe covered my body. That happened without my help. Duke was quick and efficient, even so far as to readjust things in his pants so the erection was not bulging out as it had been previously.
As if we’d choreographed it, Harriet appeared in the doorway at the exact moment we became decent...ish. I figured the flush on my face and my general expression would give me away, especially to Harriet’s eagle eyes.
She looked between us and grinned wide. “Oh good, I’m interrupting something.”
Duke loved his grandmother.
A lot.
She was one of his all-time favorite people. But this morning, he had to fight off the urge to remove her body from the cabin. He finally got to taste Anastasia, to hear what she sounded like when she came.
And fuck, was it good.
Not to mention the fact she was a natural redhead.
He considered himself relatively robust in the bedroom, but it had been a fucking battle not to come in his pants like a goddamn thirteen-year-old. He’d managed only knowing he was about to plunge into her.
Then his grandmother.
His well-meaning grandmother, to be sure, but the ultimate cockblock.
He’d taken the day to try and lock himself down, to stop himself from tearing Anastasia away from both his grandmother and mother, throw her over his shoulder like a caveman, and fuck her senseless. He had a pretty good idea she’d fuck him senseless too.
With a somewhat clearer head, he’d realized that senseless fucking would send the complete wrong message. It was too cheap for her. As much as raw, carnal fucking had its place—and it would have a very good place with Anastasia—Duke didn’t want it for their first time.
Especially with Anastasia still recovering from a fucking rattlesnake bike. David Hollows had checked in on her, as