by Max Henry
She shuts down, her arms twitching as she tries to cover her chest. “I don’t want you to think I’m rushing us into this, Duke. I don’t want to scare you away.”
“Babe,” I grumble, “you’re so fucking turned on your nipples could cut glass, not to mention the fact I’m about ten seconds away from ripping your fucking pyjamas off so there’s nothing between us anymore. You’re worried about scaring me off?” I search her eyes, finding only raw lust. “If you can’t tell I want this as much as you do, then I don’t know what else I can say or do to show you that.” I rock against her, pulling a whimper from that sweet mouth. “Get undressed.”
She sucks in a sharp breath as I push against the mattress and get off her to do the same. Cam’s cheeks stay the perfect shade of pink as she removes her pyjamas, slow and as sensual as you can make it when they’re a practical winter set. Not that it matters; she’d look sexy in a paper bag, I’m sure of it.
She drops the clothing off the side of the bed, settling her shoulders back against the headboard. I strip my boxers off and kick them across the floor, then take my dick in my hand and stroke it a few times before re-joining her on the bed. Those crisp blue eyes track my every movement, her legs falling open as I settle between her ankles, sitting back on my heels.
“Every bit as beautiful as I thought you’d be.”
The blush in her cheeks grows, and yet, she takes me by surprise when she lifts a hand to her mouth, wets her fingertips, and then promptly begins to play. The sight of her rubbing circles over her mound drives me to take my cock in hand again and lazily pull at the taut flesh as she starts to squirm.
“Fucking beautiful,” I whisper as I shift to my stomach to lie with my head between her legs.
Cam slows her play, allowing me to take over when I place two fingers to her pussy and spread her wide. “Can I?”
“Please,” she whispers on an exhale.
I shuffle up the bed until I’m so close that I can smell how aroused she is. And she thought I wouldn’t want this? Is the woman crazy?
A guttural groan echoes around the room as I run the tip of my tongue along the length of her slit. “Fuck, you taste good.” Better than anything she could whip up in that kitchen of hers, unless it was Cam spread out naked on her dining table.
“Duke,” she murmurs, her eyes closed as she presses her head back into the bed.
“Yeah, babe?” I run my tongue the length of her again, this time finishing with a sneaky flick of her clit.
She damn near bucks me off the bed. “Oh!”
A guy has to assume she’s this sensitive because it’s been a while since she’s had a man’s touch. Fuck, I choose to believe that, because the thought of some guy with his hands on her would drive me to fuck her hard and fast, and that’s not what I want for us tonight. She has to be cherished, reminded why she deserves better than an asshole who up and left her for his fucking hairdresser.
I slip one finger inside of her, pumping it slowly back and forth, watching her grow glistening wet. “So pretty.” Adding another finger, I drive deep, pushing them to the knuckles as I rub her clit with my thumb.
The sounds coming from Cam are nothing short of magic as she wriggles up the bed, her thighs clamping down on my head as I lean in and flick my tongue across her hood. “Duke, I’m going to come if you keep that up.”
“Then come, babe.” Because I’m sure to have her doing it again in no time.
Her fingers find my hair, her grasp harsh as she clamps her hand down on the back of my head and holds me in place. I thrust harder with my fingers, stopping every so often with them buried deep to curl one toward her G-spot. Cam’s muscles tighten, her pussy hot and swollen as I lick the length of her, drinking her taste while she climaxes.
“Fuck, Duke.” She throws her head back, those tits pushed out in such a way that I can’t help but reach around her leg and take one in my grasp. “Oh, fuck.”
I slow my pace, pulling my fingers free of her cunt as she reaches the end of her high. She watches me with sated eyes as I lick them clean, and then stalk up the bed until I’m over top of her.
“I’m telling you now, I’m clean. So it’s up to you whether you want me bare or gloved, babe.” I already saw the birth control pills in the bathroom.
She hesitates, the indecision clear in the slight furrow of her brow. “Bare always feels better.”
I steal her next breath with my kiss, sweeping my tongue around hers before saying, “Damn straight it does.”
She pulls in a deep breath, her eyes locked on mine as I lean down and rest my forehead against hers. For a split second, it’s everything—the two of us connected in such a way that for a fleeting moment I forget all the shit that happened to bring me to her.
I edge my hips forward, Cam tilting hers to line my cock up with her entrance. She sighs as I edge the tip inside, biting her lip and groaning when I push the rest of myself balls’ deep.
Fuck … that’s heaven, right there.
“God damn you feel good.” I slide out, relishing every twitch her muscles make as I do, and then slam home hard and fast.
She cries out, moaning as I repeat the process a little faster. The harder I fuck her, the louder she gets, spurring me on. I drive my cock into her slick pussy, palming her breasts as she arches her back off the bed, crying my name. “Keep saying it, babe. Keep telling me what you want.”
“Hard, Duke.” She gasps as my hips bruise her. “Yes.”
Cam tips her head to the side, her neck exposed on such a beautiful angle as she presses into the bed. I slide my hand from her chest over her collarbone, and rest it at her throat to test the waters.
Her pussy clamps on my cock, holding me captive as I flex my fingers a little tighter.
“God, yes,” she groans, grinding herself into me. “Do that.”
I grip her neck tight, using my hold on her to drive her harder down onto me on the upstroke. Her mouth forms a fuckable “O” as she takes a hold of her tits and pinches her nipples, the sexiest moans wrapping me in a lust-filled haze as I bring the woman to orgasm.
She screams out a string of barely comprehendible expletives as her body crunches in on itself, her muscles tight, choking the hell out of my dick as I increase my pace to the point where I feel like a seventeen-year-old kid busting a nut on his first fuck all over again. She’s. That. Good.
“Fuck, Cam.” I grit my teeth and jerk my hips, spilling my release into the sweetest woman I’ve ever met.
So sweet that as much as I feel our connection just now was the only natural way to proceed with what we have, I still can’t see how we would ever work.
The devil may have once been an angel, but there’s no room for Cam’s pure innocence in the circle of hell I’m confined to.
No room at all.
TWENTY-FOUR
Cammie
“I can’t believe you convinced me to do this. I feel as though I should have a different car, be wearing a wig or something.” I glance around the streets as we wait to turn left, but nobody seems to pay any mind to my distinctive BMW.
“Relax,” Duke says with a laugh. “You’re so on edge all the time. What are your employers going to do if they find out you’re not actually sick? You’re entitled to use those days however you like, you know.”
“I know.” I sigh and shift the gears as we head toward the first stop on my fly-by tour of Burbank. “I don’t like letting people down, is all. I feel like I’m being dishonest.” I glance across at him as he reclines in the passenger seat. “This is paramount to shoplifting for me, you realise?”
“Chill, woman.” He rolls his head my way, gracing me with a wide smile.
To think that he would only give me a slight smirk at the start, and yet he hid that gorgeous smile all along. Makes me feel even more special that I get to receive one.
“What’s the plan, Stan?” Duke asks, straightening up in his seat as we turn into the public parking area next to the riverbank. “What are we going to
do here?”
“Go for a walk.” I bring the car to a stop under the overhanging branches of an oak and switch it off. “It’s not far. Like, literally just to the riverbank.”
He seems satisfied with the idea, and gets out. I snag a bottle of water from my bag before locking the car, and then pocket the keys. Duke stands a little distance away from the car, hands in his pockets as he stares over his head at the branches of the tree.
“What are you doing?”
He breaks from his trance and reaches for my hand. “Something I used to do with Piata when we were bored on patrol.”
“Piata?”
He swallows, his jaw flexing as he stares ahead. “He was my best mate. We trained together, ended up in the same unit.”
“Was,” I echo.
He doesn’t say any more about the guy, but I get the distinct feeling Piata was one of the casualties in the attack that maimed Duke.
“Anyway,” he says, sucking in a deep breath as we head for the riverbank. “Because the sky was more often than not bluer than blue, we couldn’t fuck around making shapes in the clouds. So we’d make shapes between the leaves of the trees. Same principle.”
“You must have been bored to do that,” I say.
“Insanely so. There’s sweet fuck-all to look at in the more remote parts. We could travel for hours without seeing another person. It was eerie to begin with, like driving through a ghost town.” He jerks his chin at the river as we come to a stop where the gravelled car park runs out. “What’s special about this place?”
“Nothing really. It’s just pretty here. Peaceful.” I give his hand a squeeze, making him look down at me. “I thought you might appreciate the quiet.”
The smile that spreads across his lips and stays there is nothing short of heart-warming.
I end up taking Duke for a walk along the riverbank, pointing out where my friends and I would come as kids in school to swim in the summer months. He appreciates everything I tell him, listening intently as I recount happier times. Times when I was young and had the whole world at my feet, when I wasn’t so shaped by the choices I eventually made.
When I was simply me and not my mistakes.
The day disappears in the blink of an eye, our travels taking us back to Donna’s café. His company makes me relaxed enough to not care what anyone thinks if they see me on my day off. Like he told me, I’m entitled to them, so why not enjoy the day? We grab a bite to eat and take it with us, ending the tour of my home town at the lookout near the summit of the mountain everybody in Burbank has conquered at least once. The trek is like a rite of passage for anyone who grew up around here, to have made it to the top without passing out. Four hundred and seventy metres, damn near straight up. They don’t have ropes on the track for no reason.
Which is why today we drove to the top—took the easy option.
“I forgot how amazing the view is from up here.” I lean back against the windscreen, our afternoon snack laid out between us on the hood of my car as we kick back and enjoy the sight.
Duke stretches out, folding his arms behind his head to give me the best view of his incredible physique. “When was the last time you came and parked up here?”
“Gosh, not since I had Taylah.” I’d park at the base and walk the track every couple of months to keep my fitness in check, challenge myself.
But motherhood has that sneaky way of absorbing all your free time without you even thinking about it, and before I realised exactly how little I got for myself, I’d gained fifteen kilograms and consigned myself to a life of stretchy waistbands and comfortable footwear.
Taylah was my only concern, and as long as she was happy, I was happy, and in turn, Jared was happy. At least, I thought he was. I sometimes wonder, with how quickly our relationship broke down, if perhaps he wasn’t. Was Taylah’s death simply a catalyst for something that already lurked beneath the pretty exterior of our relationship?
“We should do the track before you go,” I say, rolling awkwardly to my side so I can face Duke.
He picks at the sausage roll laid out on the paper bag between us, tipping his head to the side. “I guess we could do it on the weekend.”
“Sunday,” I confirm. “Because Saturday I’m in the theatre all day.”
“Deal.”
A while passes where neither of us say a thing, too busy picking at our food and staring out at the patchwork of green that covers the flat farmland beyond. Yet I don’t feel uncomfortable in our silence. With most people, the lack of conversation gets to me, niggles at my subconscious until I feel panicked into saying something, picking up where the dialogue left off in case the other person is bored by my presence. But with Duke, I feel as though he doesn’t expect anything of me. As though the sheer fact we’re here together, sharing this amazing view, is enough.
Duke scrunches up the rubbish and twists to his side, reaching around the car to toss the bag in the open passenger’s window with a flick of his wrist. I lick my fingers, eyeing his body as he elongates himself. The guy is seriously smoking hot, and I have to bite down on my finger to remind myself that this isn’t some fatigue-induced dream.
“Satisfied?” he asks as he rolls onto his back, his head turned my way.
So much. “Feeling good. Thanks.”
He extends his closest arm to me, gesturing for me to scoot closer. I slide across the warm metal and tuck myself against his side, resting my head on his bicep. He hums, a melodic sound from deep in his chest, and closes his eyes. “This is nice.”
I close my eyes also, inhaling the woody scent of the forest around us mixed with Duke’s musky cologne. If perfection could be defined as a moment, a coming together of the senses, this would be it: Duke’s smell, the warmth of the dying afternoon sun on my back, his heartbeat beneath my hand, and the sound of the birds as they move through the trees. It’s perfect harmony, inside and out.
I relish the peace it brings me, loving the way we don’t need to speak to enjoy each other’s company. I let my eyes slip closed and tuck into Duke a little tighter as I allow myself to relax completely. Before long I’m fighting the pull of sleep, sated and warm against his side.
“What time do you have to be at the theatre?” Duke asks quietly, his eyes still closed.
I prop myself up on one elbow and look at his gorgeous face as he relaxes in the sun. “Half five.” His lashes are dark, his cheekbones strong. He has a classically masculine appearance that adds to his intensity when he watches me with those rich brown eyes of his.
I’ve never liked being the centre of attention all that much, but I find that as I stare at Duke, wishing he’d open his eyes and look at me, that that gaze of his is what I appreciate the most. The way he looks at me as though I’m the sole focus of his attention, the centre of his world—while he’s here in Burbank, at least. Knowing he’s leaving, that the feeling won’t last? It hurts. Still, I choose not to ruin the now with the what-ifs of the future.
I lean in and place a kiss to his cheek, adding another to his lips. He comes to life as he reciprocates, his lips teasing mine with quick, short sweeps. I pull back to find his eyes open, that chest-warming gaze fixed squarely on me. “You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?”
“As long as you think so, what does it matter if I know it or not?” I’m sceptical, sure he’s wrapped up in a bubble of lust that won’t last. But hey, I’m not going to stop him if he chooses to see only the best parts of me for now.
Duke reaches up, tucking my hair behind my ear. His fingers linger on the side of my neck, the very tips dancing a line between my earlobe and collarbone. It’s soft, sweet, and so damn sensual.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For making me take the day off. I didn’t realise how much I’ve missed out on around here until you made me stop to look at it all again.” I drop to my shoulder, tucking in tight to his side again.
“You notice a lot when you pause long enough for everything to stop spinning.”
“That you do.”
Like how I’ve kept myself shut off from love, thinking I could never deserve to feel that kind of tender connection again.
Jared was the one to walk, but I handed him my heart to take with him. If he didn’t want it, neither did I. But at the time, I was heartbroken, and I couldn’t see how I’d ever have need for it again.
Not until now.
“We better get moving if we’re going to cook you something better than pancakes for dinner again.” Duke silently chuckles under my touch.
“Don’t dis the fare, man,” I tease. “Those pancakes sustained me for most of my twenties.”
He shifts, jostling the arm underneath me until he lies on his side, propped up on one elbow. “How old are you, Cam? That’s one thing we’ve never discussed.”
“How old do you think I am?” I love this game …
He traces my cheekbones with his thumb, his eyes roving over my face. “You seem like an old soul, so I’m going to guess … mid-twenties.”
He can stay. “Thirty, as of two months ago.”
“Huh.” His eyebrows shoot up. “Although, seeing how your mum’s aged, I should have known you’d be older than you appear.” He grins. “Your turn. What about me, smartarse?”
I twist my lips to the side. “Hmm …” He has lines around his eyes, and his skin is tanned, as though he sees a lot of sun. But how much of that came from serving overseas in a dry and arid climate? “Mid-thirties?”
He slams a hand to his chest, hissing air in between his teeth. “She slays me.”
“You dork,” I say on a laugh. “Tell me then.”
“Close. Thirty-two.”
“What’s the big deal?” I tease. “Not as though I said you were forty or anything.”
“Would it matter if I was?” He cocks an eyebrow, walking his fingers from my bellybutton up between my breasts to tap me on the chin.
“No. Not at all.” I smirk. “You’d make a sexy sugar daddy, I reckon.”
The chuckle that rumbles from deep in his chest warms me. It’s the most natural, most beautiful sound.
“I don’t know how I feel about you calling me ‘daddy’, babe. Not really my thing.”
