Duke of Manhattan

Which is why I should resist him.

He slowly started to circle his thumb around my clit, his free hand on the back of my ass, pulling me into his touch. Between dirty words he plundered my mouth.

I sagged, but he held me in place, his fingers circling and pushing, pressing and pulling. My orgasm whispered from a distance.

Just a few hours ago, I’d needed space. Just a few minutes ago, I’d wanted to go home. But I had no control around him. During my first marriage, I’d always known what was coming—what lay around the bend in the road. But with Ryder, I was in new territory.

“Ryder,” I managed to say. “We shouldn’t.” But I knew it was futile to fight my attraction to him. I wasn’t sure it was possible to be in a room with him for more than a few seconds without wanting him.

“You want me to stop?” he asked. He released my ass and for a moment I thought he would let go of me entirely and the thought was horrifying.

I shook my head and his fingers delved deeper inside me while he tried to undo his fly with his other hand.

He let out a gasp as his dick sprang out of his pants and he rounded the crown with his hand. “You’re so tight. I want inside you.”

I was seconds away from coming on his hand; I wanted to be able to milk his cock. I wanted him to feel what he did to me. “Yes, deep inside.”

He dropped his lips onto mine, the heat of his tongue pushing deeper. I missed kissing him. As much as I might know it wasn’t what I should be doing, everything was okay when I was kissing Ryder, when we were close like this.

I whimpered at the loss of his fingers. He grabbed my ass and lifted me up and against the wall. I squeezed my legs around his waist, desperately wanting him inside me but knowing it would almost hurt until I was used to him again.

His tip brushed my entrance.

“I’ll go slow,” he whispered. He must have known what I was thinking.

I nodded, gasping as he filled me.

“Fuck,” he said, stilling. I pressed my hips down anyway, wanting him too much to wait. “No,” he said, sharply. “I’m not wearing a condom.”

I wanted to get fucked. Needed him to fuck me.

I didn’t care about a condom. I didn’t care about getting in too deep. I didn’t want anything but the feel of his cock against my walls, driving hard flesh inside me chasing away my doubts. I’d do anything to get it. “Leave the condom,” I said.

I wanted him close.

“I’m clean. I got the results just before the wedding.” His words were breathless, his pupils dilated, his normally sleek hair a little mussy.

I nodded. “Good, me too,” I said, trying to sway my hips to get him deeper.

“Are you on the pill?” he asked.

“Yes.” He slipped in just a little farther. Nothing was clear in my mind other than my desire to come, my need for Ryder.

Slowly and with such control, he lowered me onto him until I was oh-so-full, so close to him.

I pressed my palm against his chest, knowing that any movement would set my orgasm off. I wanted to simmer in the just before for a few moments longer.

I concentrated on the way my skin looked against his, how his fingers felt digging into my ass, how he smelled of home. Despite every uncertainty—how I knew my heart would be safer—being here with him like this just felt right.

My body dropped in the realization and I clasped him closer, dipping my head to kiss his jaw, his shoulder, his mouth as he pushed into me relentlessly.

I threw my head back as he drove me harder and harder so close to the edge of my climax.

“Oh Jesus, I love your expression right before you . . .” He jabbed his hips up like he couldn’t help himself and it set my orgasm free. It rippled across my body in waves, getting stronger and stronger as I dissolved, my heart spinning in my chest.

The understanding that he was fucking me, unable to do anything else until he’d had his own orgasm, prolonged my climax; his desire for me was the ultimate stimulation.

Just as the edges of my orgasm ebbed away, he grunted and dug his fingers deeper into my ass cheeks as he poured into me.

His breaths were hot and fast against my neck, my head lay back against the wall, my legs wrapped around his waist.

He growled, shifting us so he took more of my weight than the wall. I expected him to set me down, but instead he carried me into his bedroom.

“I fuck you here. You sleep here. Not in the spare room. Not in your apartment,” he said. “Let me see.” He lifted my skirt as if to admire his work. “My come belongs here. In your pussy, dripping down your legs. You understand?”

I shivered.

He raised his eyebrows as if reminding me I hadn’t answered. I nodded. “I understand.”

“Don’t leave again.” He tugged off my skirt, discarding it behind him, and undressed quickly, standing over me naked.

I didn’t move. I didn’t dare.

His eyes darted from my face down my body and back up. “Open your legs, Scarlett.” It was the same request he had of me the first time we slept together, but this time felt different. Before I’d been laid bare in front of someone I never had to see again. But now? I was living with this man. Maybe even sharing my life with him. But seeing the burn in his eyes, the need in the rise of his shoulders, I did what he asked willingly.

He groaned. “Yes. Like that. Nice and wide.” Gripping his cock in his fist, he took a step closer, standing between my open legs that were dangling off the side of the mattress.

“I need to fuck you all the time,” he said, using the tip of his cock to circle my clit. “And you need it, too. I know you do.”

He was right. I’d been on edge all day—a symptom of not having him inside me for longer than it should have been. If I couldn’t survive a day without him physically, what did that mean for me? And if he felt the same way, did that mean something more? Or was it just physical, just sex?

“I’m going to fuck you again. Nothing between us. Just my skin against yours. And you’re going to come again and again because you need to understand what you’re missing when you don’t sleep in my bed. When you try to avoid me.”

A strangled vowel left the back of my throat. I knew exactly what I’d been missing, that was why I’d avoided him. Didn’t he get that?

He gripped the top of my thigh, tracing his thumb across the juncture between my legs, rubbing the mixture of my wetness and his come into my skin like he was emphasizing his point. It was as if he was trying to mark my skin with us.

Without further warning, he pushed into me and I cried out. I never got used to the size of him, despite it only having been minutes since he was last inside me. “See how I fill you up? Nothing else can do that. No one else. Only me.”

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