Pucked Up(134)

By: Helena Hunting


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.



***

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