AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Please fuck me,” he blurts out, then hangs his head like he can’t bear the shame of looking at me after such a request. As if he’s never made it before.
I release his hand, stepping back and taking a drink of my beer. “Look at you, using your words like a big boy. That was sogood I won’t make you ask for more. Just show me where you want to be fucked.”
“In the treehouse.”
I take a drink. “No,” I say after a pause. “I want to fuck you in the dirt, where you belong.”
His breath hitches like a hiccup, and for a long minute, neither of us speak. The only sound is the restless wind and another distant rumble of thunder.
“That’s not how this works,” he says quietly, his voice hoarse.
“It wasn’t,” I say. “But now it is.”
I wait for him to rise, knowing that’s a line he won’t cross. With Duke, it’s not as simple as saying he only likes girls, but just like there’s a shade of grey to the black of his soul, there’s a layer to his sexuality that goes beyond that. He only admits this craving to me, and I happen to be a man, but it’s unrelated to his sexual preference. Just because he likes to crawl in the dirt and be humiliated until he cries, that doesn’t make him any less straight. It probably makes him a good candidate for boot camp.
Slowly, he turns around, staying on his hands and knees. Using one hand, he unbuckles his belt and then shoves his pants down over his hips. Then he rests on his elbows, his ass bared to me, raised like an offering.
I don’t move towards him. I don’t know what he’s doing, if he’s challenging me the way Gloria does, daring me to make the wrong move so he can bring down the guillotine. But I would sooner show Gloria every weakness I’ve ever had, even for a moment, than show Duke one.
“Take off your shirt,” I order.
“Why?”
“Because that’s what I want.”
I’m too fucked up to know what I want right now. Mostly I want to ask what the fuck he’s doing. I thought he might playalong for a while, like we sometimes do, not swing for the fences on the first request. I usually torment him for a good long while, stay until morning because that’s what he needs. We’re both too fucked up to be playing with fire, and yet here we are, dancing in the flames like we can’t feel them licking our skin with their hungry little tongues.
Duke kneels up, stripping his shirt off. The lightning flickering overhead dances along the ridges of muscle that strain over his ribs, his broad shoulders and thick, strong arms. Damn, he’s magnificent.
“My pants too?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at me. His straight nose and the finely carved ridge of his brow and cheekbone are the very definition of masculinity. My cock throbs, and I palm myself as I watch him, trying to think straight through the cocktail of alcohol and pills and pearls burning through my veins.
There’s a line where you can push someone too far—not just for them, but for you. A line that once crossed, can never be undone. You can’t go back, can’t unsee certain things people will do for you when you have the power. Things that once you’ve done to a person, they’re forever changed in your eyes. I found the line by accident, with Dixie. And even if she doesn’t deserve it, and Duke does, I didn’t learn those lessons for nothing.
But it’s tempting to push further, to see how far Duke will bend before he breaks, how much humiliation he can handle before he hates himself more than I do. Especially since he’s the one who found the weak points in my defenses, who snuck beyond enemy lines and set up camp. His brothers have all moved on to other depraved pursuits of their own, but he’s still here, torturing me, trying to break me, even though he’s already bent me so far I’ll never be straight again.
And right now, I’m too fucked up to resist the temptation to return fire. I know there’s very little Duke won’t do for meright now. He would take off every stitch of clothing, let me put the Darling Dog collar and leash on him, and crawl around the yard all night howling at the moon if I wanted him to. He has before. But this… I don’t know if he’ll do this. Straight men don’t fuck other men.
“Leave your pants on,” I say, setting the beer on the ladder. “And address me as your king while you’re on your knees.”
“Fuck you,” he growls.
“We’ll get there, baby boy.”
“You’re not my fucking king.”
I raise a brow. “You sure about that?”
He grinds his jaw back and forth, glaring like he might take a swing at me. I stare him down until he drops his gaze and turns back around. I stalk around him and grab him by the hair again, yanking his head back.
“You want to test me tonight, Dolce?” I ask. “Or wait until Monday at school and see if I follow through on my word? Sullivan’s back, and we can start the process.”
He swallows, his eyes so miserable I’m tempted to retreat to safety. But he needs this more than air.
I tip my chin at him. “Go on. Say it.”
His eyes harden, and I know I played that card right. “Yes, King Dynamo,” he grits out.
“Good boy,” I say, releasing his hair and stroking his cheek. I grip his chin and hold his gaze while I unzip.
