Duke of Manhattan

by Louise Bay

  Three

  Ryder

  I hadn’t planned on fucking anyone tonight. I’d only gone to the bar to avoid falling asleep in my apartment. I’d left London at noon and if I could stay awake until midnight Eastern, I wouldn’t be plagued by jet lag.

  But jet lag was the last thing on my mind now.

  Even if I didn’t go home with her and fuck her into the early hours, the beautiful woman in front of me was going to keep me awake all night. The memory of her raven-black hair and the way she kept trying to swallow her smiles would keep me bright, alert and hard.

  “You live in Manhattan?” I asked.

  She nodded. “I have a small place in SoHo. I moved from Connecticut just less than two years ago.”

  “Connecticut?”

  “Yeah. I grew up there. Got married there. Stayed until my divorce …” She trailed off at the end as if she didn’t want me to hear.

  Interesting. She didn’t look old enough. “Were you married long?”

  She slid the napkin that sat underneath her drink to the left. “Long enough.”

  She wasn’t giving much away. She was hot. And feisty. And had more than a little Scarlett O’Hara in her. But I didn’t have Rhett’s patience. Sex was an escape. It wasn’t about emotions or opening up or any of the shit that women thought it was. It was release—mindless oblivion.

  I took a sip of my Negroni.

  “Have you been married?” she asked.

  I almost choked on my drink. As if. I hammered on my chest with my fist, trying not to look like a total dick.

  Married? Well wouldn’t that make everything easier? I’d managed to lock it away in the back of my mind for a few hours. And there it was back in a flash—the thought of losing Westbury Group to Frederick. Or Fred-a-dick as we used to call him as kids.

  “No, never been married.”

  “Come close?” she asked.

  Didn’t she get it? We weren’t on a date. We were just passing some time until it was acceptable to leave and fuck.

  Did I want to get in deep? In her? Yes. Emotionally? Hell no.

  “I’ve known a lot of amazing women.”

  She tapped her index finger against her glass. I couldn’t tell if it was nerves or disapproval. “I imagine you have.”

  I leaned forward and whispered, “You seem pretty amazing.”

  She tried to bite back that half smile again as she shook her head. “You’re a cheeseball.”

  “Because I give you a compliment?” I asked, a little confused. Women ordinarily thought I was smooth. Or so I thought.

  “No, because you can’t possibly know whether I’m amazing. But I get it. You’re trying to get me into bed.”

  It was almost as if I was hearing exactly what she was thinking. And it was refreshing and a little bit uncomfortable. “Well, you’re right about me trying to seduce you. But I’m not confessing to the cheeseball thing.”

  She gave me a full smile and my stomach roiled. Talk about a weapon of mass distraction. “What happens if you’re successful and I come home with you and it ends up a disaster?” She put her hand up to stop me from answering. And I was grateful because I had no idea what to say. “Never mind,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  “Go?”

  “Your place. I take it you live nearby?”

  I hadn’t expected it to be that easy. I thought she’d take a little more time, require a little more attention. But I wasn’t about to argue. “But you’re just in SoHo.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “But you don’t have an invitation to mine.”

  Most women preferred to go back to their place. If they lived out of the city, I took them to a hotel. Usually the Regent, which was two blocks from my apartment, so I didn’t have far to go when we were done.

  “You changed your mind?” she asked, lightly, like it wouldn’t bother her at all.

  “Sorry, I was thinking.”

  “About where you live? Did you forget?”

  I chuckled. This girl might have banter. I didn’t encounter that much in the women of New York. I took out my wallet and flipped it open. “You think you’re funny?” I asked as I pulled out a fistful of twenty dollar bills.

  “Sometimes,” she said with a laugh.

  “Well, I’m going to fuck the funny right out of you.”

  Without checking her reaction, I slid the money onto the table and led her out of the bar.

  Stepping out into the crisp Manhattan air, I took a deep breath as I placed my hand in the small of Scarlett’s back, guiding her toward my building. So what if I took her home? She didn’t seem like the stalker type and it meant I could just roll over and go to sleep without having to scramble for my boxers afterward.

  “It’s not far,” I said. “Just on the next block.” She hadn’t looked at me or said a word since we’d left the bar. She’d shoved her hands in her pockets and studied the sidewalk.

  “Would you prefer to get a cab?” I asked. I never normally tried to fill silences, but it seemed like Scarlett was a little nervous. She didn’t need to be, but I was pretty certain that reassuring her I wouldn’t cut her into tiny pieces wasn’t going to help the situation. She’d soon relax under my tongue.

  “No, I like to walk. It’s my thing. Except normally in flats.”

  “Yes, those don’t look like they’re made for walking.” I glanced down at the red, fuck-me shoes she was wearing.

  She laughed. “They don’t feel like they are either.” But she took off ahead of me as the sign flashed walk and she began to cross the road. I caught up in two long strides.

  “That’s disappointing. I’d hoped you wouldn’t want to kick those off as soon as we got inside.” I smoothed my hand up her back.

  She glanced sideways at me and just nodded. I was hoping for a little more … encouragement. I dipped my head to whisper into her ear. “I’ll see if you can be convinced.”

  She took a breath as if she were about to speak but didn’t say anything.

  “We’re here,” I said, grateful my apartment was so close.

  She pulled out her mobile. “Okay. Stand there,” she said, pushing on my shoulder so I stood with my back against the wall to my building. I thought maybe she was going to kiss me but her touch wasn’t one of desire.

  Before I had a chance to ask her what she was doing, she’d taken my picture. “What’s your apartment number?” she asked.

  “It’s the penthouse. Why?”

  She glanced up from her phone and narrowed her eyes as if she were assessing whether I was telling the truth or not. “I’m sending it to Violet.”

  “Violet?”

  She nodded as she tapped on her mobile. “My sister. You met her earlier.”

  “Well, had I known you were sending it to a family member, I would have worked harder on my pose,” I said.

  She laughed. “Oh you would? Well, knock yourself out,” she said, holding up the phone again.

  I scrunched up my face and poked out my tongue.

  “I thought you were going to go all Zoolander on me,” she said, laughing. “I might have changed my mind about coming up to your apartment now, if you’ve given me a glimpse into what you look like in the morning.”

  I shook my head and slung my arm around her shoulders. “Well I better get you inside quickly, then.”

  Scarlett continued to concentrate on her phone as we rode the elevator up. “There. She got the message.”

  “We’re talking about Violet?” I asked.

  “Yep. So we’re all good. If I die tonight, this is the first place they’ll look for you.”

  I chuckled as I glanced at her. She was clearly practical.

  “I’m just a little nervous.” Her voice was muted. “This isn’t really my thing. Not sex. Sex is my thing. Totally. Love it. Just. You know. With you. I’m not sure how this goes.” She winced and took a breath. “I’m going to put myself on mute now. I’m ridiculous.”

  “Okay,” I replied, not quite sure how to react. New York wa
s full of uber-sophisticated women. Scarlett looked like one of them but she was fresh and unsullied somehow. She just said exactly what she was thinking, without second guesses. I liked it. “You’re fine. Don’t mute on my account.”

  She looked up at me and smiled and made a motion to zip or unzip her lips, I wasn’t sure.

  “We’re going to enjoy our evening together,” I said, trying to be reassuring.

  “I hope so.”

  I knew so.

  “After you,” I said as the elevator doors opened.

  “The elevator opens right into your apartment?”

  “Sure.” I shrugged off my coat and left it on the chair by the console table where my housekeeper had left my mail.

  I shuffled through the envelopes as I made my way into the living space.

  “Wow,” Scarlett said from behind me.

  “Scarlett, I want you to take off your clothes,” I said, walking down the two marble steps toward the sofa as I began to open an envelope.

  “Excuse me?”

  I glanced up at her and held her gaze. “You heard me. You want this to be good. So you have to trust me to tell you what we both need.”

  Her eyebrows pulled together but she didn’t ask again.

  This was the moment I knew whether or not the sex would be good.

  Would she do as she was told?

  Would she mind undressing in the lit room?

  Would she want to please me?

  It felt like hours passed as we stared at each other. Eventually she reached behind her to unzip her dress.

  Nice. I didn’t have to ask her twice.

  She peeled the red fabric off her shoulders, pulling it forward to reveal a black lace bra. Her breasts weren’t huge but they were generous and suited her frame. Wiggling her hips one way and then the other, she slid the dress over her ass and it fell onto the floor.

  “Keep the heels on.” Blood rushed to my cock as I said it. I’d enjoy fucking her in those things.

  She didn’t smile, didn’t break eye contact. She just reached behind her and unsnapped the clasp of her bra.

  I nodded in encouragement as she hooked her thumbs through the straps and took it off.

  I looked away first. I couldn’t help it. The sharp points of her nipples were a perfect pink, and begging to be sucked.

  But not yet.

  As she leaned forward to take off her panties, her breasts swung deliciously. She was still watching me, her mouth slightly open—I had to stifle a groan at the thought of those lips around my cock.

  She stepped out of her underwear and stood tall, pulling her shoulders back.

  Gorgeous.

  Her waist was small and her hips flared out in perfect proportion to her shoulders. My fingertips buzzed at the thought of pushing against that warm, soft flesh around her ass. Her black hair, which had looked so great against the red of her dress, contrasted even more sharply against the white of her skin. I wanted to gather it up and pull her head back so she could look only at me.

  “You’re beautiful,” I said.

  She rolled her hips, enjoying my attention.

  “Now sit down and open your legs.”

  She paused for just a second, looked behind her and sank onto the sofa, letting her knees fall open.

  “Bring your bottom forward.” I said. “And wider. I want to look at you.”

  She placed her palms on the inside of her thighs and pulled them apart. I swear, this woman could make me come without a single touch. So compliant, so confident, so beautiful.

  I tossed my mail, vaguely aware of it skidding across the floor, and stalked toward her. Standing over her, I shrugged off my jacket.

  It wasn’t just the fact that she wanted to please me that got me hard—that was what normally did it for me. With Scarlett, it was the way the woman who’d nervously chattered on our way here was so fucking confident about her body.

  About my desire.

  And she had every right to be confident. On both counts.

  “Anyone ever tell you how pretty your pussy is?” I asked, kneeling between her thighs.

  She was trimmed into a neat triangle but I appreciated that she wasn’t bare. I liked to fuck women—real women. Her back arched in response. I’d take that as a no.

  I wanted to dive straight into her but I would resist. I would ratchet up her need for me a little more.

  “Wider,” I whispered.

  What a view. Those breasts. That pussy. That perfectly flat stomach. Those deep brown eyes.

  To think I might have missed out on this if I’d stayed in this evening.

  “I want you to keep your hands on your knees until I tell you to move them, you hear me?”

  She rolled her lips together and nodded.

  “I need to hear your answer.”

  “Yes. I’ll keep them there.”

  “I’m going to lick and suck and make you come—but you’re not to move your hands.”

  Her belly quivered and she let out a breathless, “Yes.”

  Perfect. It was like her desire was neutralizing the nerves.

  My cock pressed against the fabric of my pants, but it was going to have to be patient.

  I took off my cufflinks. Then slowly rolled up my shirt sleeves. She squirmed in front of me but made no attempt to urge me on; it was as if she was enjoying the buildup as much as I was.

  I glanced at her again, checking that she wasn’t out of her depth. Her sleepy eyes told me she was hazy with lust. I focused back on her pussy. She was wet already. I could see it. Smell it. Leaning forward, I hooked my arms under her legs, and blew.

  I trailed my tongue over her slit, not wanting to hit her clit straight away; my strokes grew deeper, longer, like she was pulling me in.

  She let out a short, sharp huff of breath just a split second before I reached her clit. As I circled and pressed she let out a long, loud moan that connected straight to my already straining cock.

  Oh yes. I liked women loud.

  Her wetness grew and I couldn’t stop imagining it coating my dick. All that heat. I was going to have to make her come quickly so I could get down to the business of fucking her.

  But she tasted so good. And she was behaving so well. Her hands exactly where I’d told her to put them. I wanted to keep sucking, licking—giving and taking.

  Her body started to judder and fractured sentences tumbled from her mouth.

  “Oh God, no—”

  “Oh Jesus I—”

  “Just like—”

  “Fuck—”

  “I’m—”

  My fingers tightened, trying to keep her in place as she bucked against me before she gasped. Her hips pushed off the couch and her pussy contracted as I sat back and watched her juices slip between her ass cheeks. Fuck. I pulled off my tie and removed my shirt in record time.

  She’d been almost too quick but I was grateful. I needed to be inside her. Normally I liked a blow job to get nice and hard for the first stroke.

  Not tonight. Not with Scarlett.

  Her breasts were still heaving as her breathing leveled out. Her eyes were tightly screwed shut.

  “Scarlett, look at me.”

  Immediately, she opened her soft, hazy eyes.

  I tried not to smile too wide.

  “You ever tasted yourself?” I hadn’t kissed her. Hadn’t had the urge before now.

  She frowned as if she didn’t understand the question.

  Without breaking eye contact, I took her hands from her thighs and clasped my fingers through hers. I leaned over her, hovering to see if she’d resist.

  She lifted her chin and I took her mouth with mine. My tongue met hers in a tangle of hot and wet, soft and needy.

  She tasted divine. Her pussy, her mouth. I wanted it all.

  Her tongue was as eager as the rest of her body. I growled against her, my cock reminding me with a twitch that I wanted to be inside her.

  I broke off our kiss and twisted my hands free from hers.

  St
anding, I stripped down, grasping for my wallet as I did. Jesus, I needed to calm down. She wasn’t going anywhere.

  I found a condom and stuck it between my teeth as I pulled off my underwear and stepped back toward the couch.

  She fixated on my dick. I got that a lot. Mother Nature had been good to me.

  She frowned. “Be careful with that thing, will you?”

  “Careful?” I asked with a grin.

  She pushed up on her hands, the movement of her breasts completely captivating. “I think it might break me in two,” she replied.

  “I hope so.” I wanted in her so deep.

  “I’m serious. I’m not used to …”

  She was on the verge of making a confession I didn’t want to hear. I just wanted to bury myself in her.

  “I’ll make it good.” I stood over her as I stroked my cock up, rounded the crown and slid my hand back down to the root. So good.

  How would I have her first? As I rolled on the condom, I considered my options.

  Flip her over, go deep? No, I wanted to look at her as I pushed in the first time.

  Have her ride me? No. I wanted to control the timing and the pace.

  Without asking she leaned back and spread her legs. Her long, dark hair streamed down her front, her nipples poking out, still wanting an audience.

  Yes, that would do nicely.

  I lay my palm flat on her stomach, guiding my cock with the other hand. I stroked the tip up her folds to her clit and down to her entrance.

  “Relax,” I whispered.

  “Make it good,” she said, a plea I couldn’t ignore.

  I wanted it to be good. It would be good for us both. Sex might be a sport to me but I made sure there was never a losing side.

  I inched in. “Breathe,” I instructed.

  Her muscles under me relaxed and I pushed in farther.

  She let go of her knees and grabbed at my elbows, her eyes opening wide. She didn’t ask me to stop, but I wasn’t sure what she wanted. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “Yes.” Her breathy answer seemed to channel the blood to my dick.

  Slowly, she let me in. Holy fuck, she was tight.

  “Jesus, beautiful,” I said as I was as deep as I could go. “You’re perfect.”

  She took a breath. “You’re big. I wasn’t sure if you’d …”

  “Feel good?” I asked.