Duke of Manhattan

“Yes, too busy looking at you.”


She began fumbling with my buttons but I stepped away. Not because I didn’t want to be naked. Not because I didn’t want her touching me, but because I knew I’d be faster. I stripped off my shirt and pants and was undressed in just a few seconds.

Scarlett stared at me from where she lay propped up on her elbows.

“Just a few more hours and I’m going to make you scream so loud Manhattan will have a run on ear plugs.”

“Hours? How—”

“It’s thirty-six hours until we fly to New York.” I stalked back to the bed and gripped her ankle, pulling her to the edge of the mattress. “Forty-two hours until we land. Then after customs and the journey into town, I figure it’s forty-four hours max until I make you come in my apartment where you can be as loud as you like.”

Her breath hitched as I fisted my cock on an upward stroke. “Are you wet, my bride?” I asked, using my free hand to push between her legs. Her panties darkened with her juices. God, I loved how her pussy smelled.

“Always,” she replied.

“I’m going to fuck you while you’re wearing that until it’s worn and ragged and soaked in our come.” I quickly unwrapped a condom, covered my dick and slid her underwear to one side. I pushed my tip over her clit, trailing down to her entrance and back up. She was more than ready and I was done holding back. I pushed in, just a fraction of the way home, and exhaled. God, it felt good. Right.

Slowly, I pushed deeper.

“Oh God,” she cried.

“No, baby, you need to be quiet for just a few more hours.”

“I can’t. It feels so good and it’s been too long.”

It had only been a day, but I understood how she felt. I couldn’t get enough of this woman. Of the way she held my dick inside her, squeezing tight. Or the way her breath felt against my skin. Or how she tried to choke back her groans. I learned more about her with each fuck. And every time, I felt myself falling a little further under her spell.

I pulled back the crotch of her panties, the elastic adding to the friction on my dick. I lost my focus in the acute pleasure of her and I fell forward, my hands bracing against the mattress. “Christ, you feel good.”

I needed her closer and like an awkward teenager, I maneuvered us both up the bed. I liked her body heating mine and mine responding in kind. I liked being able to whisper in her ear about how good, tight, smooth she felt.

I slid my hand down the lace of her corset, then sank into her on a curse. “Christ, just as I think it can’t get better with you,” I choked out.

I kept my pace slow and steady but every atom of my body tightened with the pleasure of fucking her. It was as if I was only a breath away from an orgasm every time I touched her.

“My husband,” she whispered, gripping my shoulders.

Her words lit a fire within me.

I was her husband.

It might be in name only, but while we were married, I’d work hard to deserve that title—I wanted her to be happy. Wanted to make her happy.

Her hips twisted, her fingernails digging deliciously into my skin. Jesus, it was too much. Being over her like this, her beneath me, taking my dick like it was the best thing I could give her. It was more than I deserved.

“Ryder!” she called. I knew what she needed and I was going to give it to her. Lifting myself without breaking my rhythm, I placed my palm over her mouth. Her body relaxed as if she was finally able to let go, and as she did, her muscles began to pulse around me.

“Oh, so soon,” I said. I savored her growing tightness around me and it was as if her orgasm lit mine. Her eyes fluttered as her scream vibrated across my palm. Fuck. I was gone. I clenched my jaw as I pushed into her in jagged, uncontrollable thrusts.

Totally focused on finding the edge, I couldn’t control the groan that ripped through my body as I poured into her, desperate to let her have every last drop of my come.

I slumped over her, needing her close, wanting to prolong the togetherness.

“Ryder,” she whispered, trailing her fingers down my back.

“Christ, did I pass out?”

Her body moved below mine as she laughed. “No. I can vouch for the fact you did not pass out. You did, however, make a lot of noise.”

I’d always liked a little dirty talk during sex, but I’d never been loud in bed. It seemed I couldn’t help myself when Scarlett and I fucked. It was different—more intimate.

I rolled over and discarded the condom. Then settled in and pulled Scarlett close so she rested against my side, our legs twining. “Fuck it. I was fucking my wife. What do they expect when you’re just so goddamn sexy?”

She leaned across my body and dropped a kiss on my nipple at the same time as she slid her hand over my cock.

“You’re insatiable,” I said.

“With you, apparently I am.”

My chest expanded at the thought that I was the best she’d ever had. But it still wasn’t as much as she deserved.

“I’m going to do as much as I can to quench your thirst tonight, Mrs. Westbury.”

“Big promises.” She pushed up on an elbow, her hair falling over her shoulders providing an ineffective curtain across nipples just peeking out of her corset. I pulled one between my forefinger and my thumb.

“Yes, I think I can keep up.”

She straddled me, her hands flat on my chest, her ass in the air. She was perfect—unselfconscious, sexy. Mine. And I was hard. Again.

“Let’s see, shall we?” she said.

Tonight was going to be a long, glorious night.





Twenty-One





Scarlett


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