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Lord. My racing heart settles, just a tiny bit.
“You shouldn’t be in here.”
Despite his words, my best friend’s dad flips me like a pancake. He bears me down onto the mattress; shoves my legs apart, my yellow sleep shirt tangling around my waist. The sheets are kicked down by our ankles.
And maybe it would be alarming if it was someone else, but when Duke lowers his bulk on top of me, his thick bulge covered only by black cotton boxers, I moan and squirm like a wild thing.
“Quiet,” he says gruffly, then softens his tone. His hands are gentle in my hair. “Quiet, baby. Meg can’t know, remember? This has to be our little secret.”
Yes. Yeah. Our little secret.
I bite my lip hard enough to bruise, rocking my hips up against his.
No idea what I’m doing. I mean—not the mechanics. Whatever, I get that. I listened in sex ed, and it’s hardly advanced algebra.
But I don’t know how to make thisgood.How to make Duke remember this encounter fondly. Because, let’s face it, whatever this man does to me, I’ll remember it for the rest of my lonely life, and I want to have that effect too. Not to be selfish, just…
I want this to matter. To him.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” Duke says again, laying all the way on top of me and rocking his forehead against mine, side to side. “You were sent to test me, Clementine, and I’m failing badly.”
If he’s failing, so am I. F minus over here.
“Can you breathe?” Duke asks, then takes more of his weight on his elbows. I suck in a long breath, still squirming like an eel under him. “Sorry, baby. Got carried away, but I didn’t mean to squish you.”
“I liked it,” I whisper, then he kisses me.
Oh, he kisses me.
Duke kisses me so long and hard and deep, my hair crackles with static from rubbing against his pillow. I suck on his tongue, swallowing up his groan before it can drift away from the bed and tell on us.
And I could die happy like this: with his weight pressing me into the mattress and his lips on mine. I swear, every time Duke gets too into it and forgets himself, grinding his thick body harder against mine, my back cracks into alignment. It’s like the world’s best spa treatment.
But then he shifts slightly, and his hard length presses against my panties. Two thin layers of cotton—that’s all that’s between us down there.
And I’m slicker than I’ve ever been, panting against his bearded cheek, whimpering with need as he strokes a hand down the center of my writhing body.
“Shit, you’re hot right now, Clementine.” His breath is warm, his eyes glazed. Duke’s lip curls back when his fingertips meet the waistband of my panties, and you’d think I came up here in crimson lace, not faded blue cotton.
He groans, gripping the fabric tight in his fist. It pulls harshly against me, cramming up my ass and rubbing against my clit, lifting my hips an inch off the bed, and my head tips back with a moan.
God. He’s so much bigger and stronger than me. I’m a doll in his hands.
Duke shakes his head, lip still curled. He’s staring down my body, and I don’t think he’s blinked in minutes. “Fuck. You’d let me rip ‘em clean off you, wouldn’t you? You’d let me shred ‘em to pieces right now.”
Why yes. Yes, I would.
“Do it,” I beg, scrabbling at his broad shoulders. “Oh my god. Do it, Duke.” Anything that lets him touch me down there.
But he huffs a laugh, then tugs my panties down my thighs gently instead. “Not tonight, baby. I’m not adding property damage to my list of sins.”
“Oh,please.” Tossing my head on the pillow, I can’t think straight. Don’t even know what I’m saying. “They’re not even my best ones!”
“Best ones, huh?” My panties drop to the floor beside the bed, and the mattress groans as Duke rolls on top of me again. “Now there’s a thought. Tell me about your best ones, Clem.”
One layer of cotton left between us. With my flesh bared, I can feeleverything, every detail of his cotton-covered bulge.
This is the most torturous countdown. And I want to say no, that he can see my best panties himself one day, but this isn’t like that, is it? Tonight is a one time thing. For Meg’s sake, it has to be.
