He turned around, like he didn’t want to but would do as she asked no matter what it was.
“Why’d you do that? Why’d you find that out? Johnson and I were breaking up.” Dove had a sneaking suspicion what his motives were.
“Because even if you’re not mine, I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy.” Duke pressed his lips together for a second, like he was swallowing a kiss he wanted to give her.
Dove gulped. It was Duke. Every damn time. He saved her ass, cheered her up, made her laugh, and was so real with her. “Thank you,” was the only way she could express what she was feeling.
“Anytime, Dove. Anytime.” Duke nodded at her and trudged the rest of the way down the hallway, his ill-fitting shoes obviously painful.
He hadn’t even changed his outfit before saving her day. He let stupid Debra Anastasia give him a makeover even though he knew what a shitty job she usually did. Dove had pooped her pants in the past, and he knew it and still wanted to kiss her.
Johnson was like a dream come true, but Duke was a true friend.
Beth pulled open her apartment door and stormed past Dove. “Hope you’re happy now. You’re never going to be enough for him.”
Johnson followed Beth into the hall and put his hands on Dove’s shoulders. With his gorgeous, long-fingers on her skin, she realized if Duke had been in Johnson’s position, he would have made sure Dove was in his life, no matter what. She froze as the truth hit her like a battering ram. Johnson was willing to break up with her to appease his family. Dove knew that Duke would fight dragons to be with her.
“I’m relieved that she isn’t pregnant. I owe Duke a sincere thank you.” He rubbed her shoulders and suddenly his hands felt wrong.
She’d craved him, wanted him, and got him. But now she couldn’t help thinking about Duke downstairs, always having been ready to feed her cat while she screwed Johnson, get Johnson’s job back for her, take her to a wedding to make her forget her heartache, and last, but not least, flush out Beth’s lies so Dove could be with Johnson if she wanted.
She removed Johnson’s hands from her shoulders. “I owe you an apology.”
“You don’t, this was all me.” It was hard to look at his face because he was good looking.
“No. I should’ve told you I’m not ready to jump into this relationship right now. I think I need a bit of time. To just be on my own. Duke is…”
“In love with you.” Johnson finished her sentence, but it hadn’t been what she was thinking. Duke is a safe place and a true north, that’s what she was going to say. “And you’re…” She touched his shoulder.
“Really excited to be in a relationship with you.” He was crestfallen. “Listen, I shouldn’t have come here tonight and unloaded on you. It wasn’t fair. Please don’t make any decisions yet. Let’s let the dust settle.” Johnson pulled her in for a hug, and she allowed it. He gave the top of her head a kiss. “I’ll go. I’ll let you think.”
She nodded, even though it was the last thing her vagina was on board for. Her lady parts were a traitor.
Dove stood in her hallway for longer than a reasonable person should. All she could picture was Duke downstairs, taking off his crazy outfit. Shit, he’d probably poke his eye out getting that guyliner off right now.
She padded down the stairs and pushed open his door, which was slightly ajar. The light from the bathroom spilled into the living room, and she tiptoed in, and sure enough, he was standing in front of his mirror, dabbing at his left eye over and over and cursing.
She opened the door the rest of the way and waited a second until he saw her. He didn’t say anything. Standing there in unbuttoned jeans, a tight, sleeveless tank, and wild hair, he looked like he belonged on the cover of a dirty book. A filthy dirty book.
Dove grabbed a handful of toilet paper from the roll and scootched in front of him to moisten it lightly with water from the tap. She went to hop up on his sink, and he put his hands on her hips to help her.
“I figured you’d be down here turning your eyeball into a pile of mush.” She bit her bottom lip and ran the paper lightly under his eye, eliminating the smudge that wearing it had caused.
The normally chatty Duke was quiet, but his breath was coming faster and faster.
She moved to his right eye and did the same. The liner was still there, but just a hint now. She tossed the paper in the trash and ran her hand through his hair.
“What kind of product did she put in here? Her orgy-proof stuff is scary.” His hair was stiff but still soft somehow, and she ran her fingers through it a few times. He set his hands on either side of her, and his knuckles went white as if having her touch him caused him pain or made him want to hit something.
She looked from his hands to his eyes, and the lust there was so apparent it was scary in the most sensual way.
“He’s gone. Johnson left.” She ran her hands down his ridiculous biceps. “It’s us. Here.”
He put his hands on her ass and pulled her hard against him. “Damn it, Dove.” His voice was gravelly. “I want to tell you to leave. To go—because you’re too indecisive and it hurts me, but the truth is I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me.”
She ran her hands down his chest, making sure to graze his nipples. He made an almost imperceptible growl. “That’s not fair.”
Duke put his forehead against hers.
“For you. You deserve more. What about Flower?” She touched her nose to his.
“Did you come downstairs and put your legs around me to talk about other people?” And that anger was there again, just resting beneath the passion he was barely keeping a lid on.
She locked her feet behind his back. She hadn’t even done it consciously. “No. I came down here because I needed to see you.”
Was this the same guy who had gay porn embedded on his TV? Was this the guy who wore chicken tighty-whities like a uniform?
His outfit was killing her in her ovaries. She set her hands behind her and pushed out her breasts, knowing her nipples were hard.
“I need you naked. Screaming my damn name. If that’s not happening tonight, you need to get the hell out of here.” He pointed at the door while looking at her chest.
“Duke. I’m not decided about Johnson. I just…” He was right. She should leave.
“Dove.” He grabbed two fistfuls of her hair. “I’d fuck you while he watched if I had to.”
She was supposed to make words, but the closest she got to them was a desperate, moaning hum. He was coiled and ready to pounce on her. The power to flip his switch was in her hands.
Dove put her lips next to his. He was shaking—just a tiny bit.
And then she unleashed him with one word.
“Please.”
Duke heard her permission through the blood pounding in his ears. It was going to be a fucking mess. She lived upstairs, she wasn’t sure which guy she wanted, but she was here and she was ready. Duke had watched too much porn to not take an offer of sex when he got one.
From her.
Her.
He kissed her so hard and deep he was pretty sure he could change her religion with his tongue. Her breasts missed him—he could tell; they’d been talking to him ever since he tasted them, even if Dove hadn’t realized it. He tore her shirt open, not really intending to, but her pajamas were so damn old her top reacted like a piece of paper to the force of his hands.
He looked in her eyes and watched her pupils get larger. Aroused. Damn it. He ripped it the rest of the way and attacked her with all his pent-up feelings. Lust. Love. So much love. He adored her as his fingers pressed into her thighs, as his tongue circled her pretty pink nipple. His dick was ready to light a stick of dynamite and blow its way out of his jeans. She rubbed against him hard, letting her head loll back, little gasps of want coming from her mouth.
He’d spent approximately four hundred thousand hours picturing this very thing again. To have her skin and his skin touching. She was yanking at his tank, and he paused
to help her. Skin against skin, he pulled her in for a hug, stopping the flow of all his wild need for her for a minute. She was panting as much as he was.
“You still with me?” he breathed against her ear, and she shivered, nodding. Duke slipped a hand between her legs and felt the dampness on her pajama pants. He felt like he had won an Olympic medal on the moon right then. He was a god.
She nodded again.
“Say it.” Duke stopped caressing her, even though he’d have rather gnawed off his own dick than do so.
She stilled, wrapped her arms around his neck, and told him the three words he was dying to hear. “You’re my stepbrother.”
“Shit.” He lifted her then. His dick was a Command hook and she was a soggy towel that needed drying; they fit together like they were made for that very purpose.
He maneuvered her around the open door and put her against the sturdiest wall. She kissed him like she’d just discovered what girls and boys could do with each other. Greedily.
It was amazing, more than he’d hoped, and he had a nagging feeling—well more than one—that he shouldn’t be doing this with her. Not now. Her boyfriend had left her emotions in tatters.
She dragged her fingernails down his back.
He set her down on her feet, grabbed her hand, and pulled her toward his bedroom. He made a short detour to kick his front door shut, thinking for a second he saw someone outside it. He locked it just to be on the safe side. He didn’t want Johnson wandering in and changing Dove’s mind.
He opened his bedroom door, and caught her in a tight embrace. Then he placed his feet on either side of hers and pushed her backward onto his bed.
“Your stepbrother wants things from your body.” He spoke into the soft skin at her neck.
“I have no idea why that is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.” Dove reached for him.
“It’s magic.” He meant her, with her hair spread out around her head and her welcoming him into her arms. It was magic. She was magic.
She smiled. “Let’s see what it’s made of.”
Duke kicked off the horrible boots and climbed on top of her.
“The liner works, the hair, the giant muscles in your arms…” She initiated the kiss.
Duke stopped thinking right then and instead, began memorizing. Her touch, her taste.
Her.
She’d seen them kissing against the wall. Before he’d kicked the door shut. She’d brought TBiS downstairs to show him the new little trick she’d taught the cat, but it seemed pointless now. TBiS was able to hobble a little on her back legs. It was a dream TPB never would have achieved. She’d been overjoyed for her cat and wanted to show her boyfriend.
Instead she got the door to his apartment slammed shut in her face and then locked. Because she was so insignificant to him.
She couldn’t tell them to stop what they were doing because she had used her daily allotment of words to praise TBiS and help her learn her new trick.
Flower walked past his door shaking her head. By the time she got to her apartment filled with broken Christmas decorations, she was in a rage. She tucked TBiS in her bedroom with a toy and some food and closed the door. Then she turned to her carefully arranged tribute to all the things that couldn’t be fixed and began trashing the hell out of it.
Christmas 2005 Frosty was beaten to death with a handless Santa from 1989. Her dead Christmas trees were reduced to kindling as she swung a string of busted lights like a whip. She started a fire in her fireplace with the kindling and tossed Christmas greeting cards at the flames, creating a thick, acrid smoke from all the little bits of plastic that made the outdated cards more festive.
Flower’s anger was as real as it got. She was furious with Duke and with Dove, who couldn’t decide which man she wanted to be with. And Flower was done.
How many words had remained unsaid in her dedication to the lifestyle Duke had claimed was perfect? So many. How many Slim Jims had she scented vaginally to train him to love only her? So many.
Flower panted, looking around at her destroyed apartment, and knew it was time for a change. A huge change. She brought TBiS her litterbox, saw to it that the cat was safe, and closed the bedroom door again so the animal wouldn’t be hurt by the broken glass and shards of Christmas that were strewn around.
Flower dressed in ripped jeans and tank top, tossing a black trench coat on top and put on some super high heels she’d bought on clearance for $1.89. She was washing the Goth out of her life. Coloring the Duke out of her head.
Flower slammed her apartment door and made sure to give the closed and secured door that led to Duke’s apartment the finger as she walked past.
Johnson was just emotionally exhausted. He flopped back on his bed and tried to avoid recalling everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. He’d become a father, broken up with Dove, found out his ex-girlfriend was a horrible person with serious issues, become childless… and he was pretty damn sure Dove was going to break up with him.
He stopped counting the ways the day had been shitty. He shouldn’t have told Dove about Beth until he had the details figured out. Breaking up with her before that had been stupid. A knee-jerk reflex that turned out worse than he could have imagined. It was selfish, and he thought he was being a good guy, doing the standup thing, but instead he was just an asshole.
He hadn’t even had to tell his parents or his brother about any of it. Thanks to Duke. Maybe he’d been in shock when Beth had told him; maybe he was being too hard on himself.
Either way, his panic had made Duke look like a clear-thinking prince. It was a damn shame.
He called Dove, but her phone went to voice mail. He tried his best to make sense of things.
“Hey, Dove, it’s me. And I’m afraid I messed up. I mean, I know I messed up. My first reaction was to run to you, which I guess was good, but then to think that we had to break up… well it seemed like I would have to do that to save you the complication of—”
BEEP!
His time had run out. He looked at his phone and frowned.
Dove gasped at Duke’s fervor. It was like he had a map of her body and had hit fast-forward. He was everywhere, and he had plans for her knees and where her hands needed to be when he touched her right there. Again and again.
Her pajama pants came off, and it wasn’t until her hand twisted in the leg hole that she realized she’d been the one to rid her body of the hindrance they provided.
“I’m going to make this so worth it, mama. You just lay back and feel.”
Stepbrother Duke had skills. And Dove kept looking for her inhibitions and concerns but failed to find them.
Johnson tried her phone again. It sent him straight to voice mail again.
“I just wanted to let you know I handled it poorly. All of it. And I get it if you never want to talk to me again.”
BEEP!
“Crap.” Johnson walked over to his fridge, located one of his beers, and popped the top. He needed some liquid courage tonight.
Dove’s head was hanging off the side of the bed, and her throat hurt from screaming. For the last two minutes or so, she could only see white, feel white, and comprehend white because her brain had decided to stop interpreting the world and was, instead, focused on her vagina. And Duke seemed happy to just live there forever. He was matching her shouts with dirty, wonderful things about how perfect her naked body was, and she felt like she was drunk, but she was sober.
All of her nerve endings were attached to his tongue and the wicked things he was doing with his fingers.
And it was Duke, so she didn’t have any use for shame. With him, it was like breathing, one of the few things she could do without thinking about it. For all the time he spent underneath her, physically under her feet in his apartment while she was in hers, having him on top of her settled something inside of her. He made her come so hard she forgot to be self-conscious. That seemed like his superhero trick. He could sometimes shield her from even her own judgm
ental eyes.
He stopped for a minute and sat back, looking at her. She lifted her eyebrow.
“Just looking… to remember.” And he freaking smoldered at her.
Duke. It was all Duke, and his mind was so dirty that it showed in his performance. And she loved it.
Johnson called again, this time three beers deep in his regret. His rhyming was starting to peek out.
“Hey, Dove. I should have told you that I love—how we are together. And I see a long-term fit. Like a glove. Just call me back because this is whack. Are you with him? Please don’t be with him. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He ended the call, wondering how many calls it would take to fill up her voice mail as he took another pull of his beer.
Flower gave herself a half smile when she saw her hair fluffed around her face by the hair stylist. Her long black hair was back to her true color, a beautiful honey blond. There were streaks of pink mixed in, a few light blue, too. The ends were dipped just the tiniest bit in purple. Her makeup was light, too, but her lips were red.
“Gorgeous.” The hair stylist had also been her makeup artist. Flower had been able to convey her desires through pointing and drawing, hanging onto the ten-words-a-day thing even though Duke was sleeping with Dove right this moment. Or maybe they were done. Or maybe they had come to their senses and stopped. Either way, he’d shattered Flower’s hope of something between him and her. It just wasn’t going to happen.
After Flower paid the stylist, she flipped her hair over her shoulder, pleased. She drove Dove’s car back to the apartment with the music blaring. Her mood was settling into something she liked. After parking Dove’s car sideways, Flower walked through the front doors and stopped at Duke’s door, which was still closed. She pushed her shoulders back and was ready to fight them both without using words.
Fire in the Hole Page 17
