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In the mirror, his dark eyes flared before his hand reared back and a crack of hand on flesh filled the bedroom. His rough palm immediately massaged away the sting. A fresh surge of wetness coated his cock.
“Fuck yes.” He groaned as he continued to pump inside me. “Again?”
A jerky nod was all I could muster. His hands and cock brought me to the edge of my climax.
Crack.
“Yes!”
Another rub. His short nails dragged down the curve of my ass.
Crack.
Intense pleasure mixed with pain and forced an orgasm to tear through me. After a few pumps of his hips, Duke was tumbling right behind me. His cock jerked and swelled inside me as he emptied his release deep.
My arms shook as warmth seeped down my inner thighs after Duke slipped out of me. Carefully he collected me in his arms, holding my bodyweight, as I was too weak to stand. When I was nestled on my side on the bed, his large body collapsed behind me, gently tugging me into a close embrace.
“Holy shit.” His breath was hot as he panted behind me.
“Thank you,” I said softly. “That was... incredible.” My voice hitched. I was just as breathless as he was.
His hands moved over the curve of my ass, where no doubt there would be a bright-red mark. A devious part of me couldn’t wait to see if it stayed until tomorrow as a reminder of the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced.
Duke shifted, propping himself up on his hip, and bent in half to lean over and place a gentle kiss on my butt. “Was it too much?” he murmured, concern laced through his voice.
I hummed with a smile. “It was the exact right amount.”
I didn’t have the bravery to tell him I knew that the time we had together would never be enough.
TWENTY-EIGHT
DUKE
The bitter clutchof a Michigan winter in mid-February was undeniable. Despite the angry wind, the lonely sounds of a mourning dove broke the quiet in the field. After months of silence, I realized how much I missed the call of birds on my daily walks. I stood still, feet firmly planted on the frozen ground, and listened.
The low angle of the late-afternoon winter sun cast long, ominous shadows onto the pristine snow. The crunch of my boots through the snow drowned out the bird as I trudged toward the farmhouse. In another month we’d be pruning the bushes as they emerged from their dormancy, and for the first time since overseeing the farm, I wasn’t ready. Every day that hurtled me toward spring was one less day with the woman I loved.
The woman who still planned to leave.
Anger—at myself for being a coward and not laying my battered heart at her feet—simmered next to the chill that tore through me.
There had to be a way.
My hand brushed over the letter I had stuffed in my pocket. My thoughts were as turbulent as the waves crashing against theshoreline, refusing to be quieted despite the chill. I clenched and unclenched my fists, torn between my loyalty to my family and the love I held for Sylvie and the life growing inside her.
Rumors of inquiries regarding mineral rights on Sullivan land had added an ominous edge to the already tense atmosphere in our town. My mind raced as I sorted through the implications for my family. Months ago I had asked Joss Keller, my friend and local attorney, to look into whoever was poking around when he’d finally sent the letter. Add to it the mysterious tire tracks that continued to show up on Sullivan land, and I was on edge.
The mere idea that someone was eyeingmyland for minerals was infuriating. JP King’s reputation for ambitious business acquisitions didn’t help me shake the feeling that the Kings were behind this, stoking the flames of the feud that had divided our families for generations.
So much for temporary truces.
I knew Sylvie belonged on their side, but despite the animosity between our families, I had fallen in love with her. My heart tightened with every thought of her, and yet I hadn’t found the courage to tell her the depth of my feelings. To tell her how madly in love with her I was, to beg her to give up her dream andstay.
I couldn’t escape knowing that she would say yes. One ask and she’d likely give it all up.For me.But I couldn’t bear knowing I would do to her what had been done to me. So I bit back the words and let my actions speak for me.
I couldn’t fight the nagging feeling that if I could only figure out where the feud had started, why it had persisted for so long, Sylvie and I might have a fighting chance to put the feud to rest. If we could find a way to repair the relationship between our families, the fighting, sidelong glances, and murmurs throughtown could stop. We could exist without the scrutiny of a town divided.
It still wasn’t easy, even with the whole town knowing Sylvie was living with me. Only a few days ago someone in town had actually stopped me and tried to set me up with her niece or something.A nice girl from agoodfamily.
