Page 19 of Duke

“Shanna.”

“Duke.”

His dark eyes bore into mine. But I can’t read his today. I can’t see anything but know my eyes tell him more than I’ll ever admit.

I want you.

I dislike you.

I’m on fire.

He leans down whispering against my hair, “Morning looks good on you, but night looked even better.”

His soft beard brushes against my cheek.

I want to forget the world and pull his face down to mine. I wonder if he’d taste like coffee and mint. His worn jeans hug his muscular thighs. His grey Henley shows every hard cut of the muscle in his chest, pecs, and abs.

He holds his black leather jacket over one shoulder, and as my eyes move back to his, he smirks like he knows my hands are just itching touch him everywhere my eyes just landed.

“Duke? Is that you boy? It’s been a long time.”

“Who are you calling ‘boy’ old man?”

He steps away from me reluctantly, shaking his head as if he is also caught in the web spinning between us. Pops ambles over, leaning heavily on his cane.

“Hello, Colin.” Duke greets my father with the respect that a former Chapter President deserves.

“Give us a minute, Shanna. Duke and I have some business to discuss.”

“Sure.”

I want to stay, but I can tell by the look in Pops’ eyes, not to test him. Besides, Pops needs his space to say whatever peace he needs, to his friend’s son.

I wrap my duster dress tighter around me walking back towards the car. I hope Duke doesn’t say anything to piss off Pops. He doesn’t need any more stress today.

I mentally plan my day: Do a load of laundry, wash the dishes soaking in the sink, study for my test next week, and stop fantasizing about Duke’s dick thrusting in me, breaching the barrier I still have.

A strong breeze blows through knocking more leaves off the trees. They flutter to the ground all around me.

“Here.”

Duke brushes by me, plucks a red maple leaf from my hair and hands it to me.

“I’ll see you later.” He says a second before his tongue sweeps inside my surprised mouth. He angles his head closer, cupping my face in his large hands. His hips shift; I moan feeling his monster erection nudging my belly.

“Stay the hell away from her!” Pops calls out angrily.

I whirl around, he’s huffing and puffing; walking as fast as a man can with only one good leg and lung.

“What the fuck did you say to him, Duke?”

“Nothing,” he calls out walking backward, “well besides that I intend to take you as my old lady first and the bar second.” He winks giving me his back.

“Never! It’ll never happen!” I roar, angry at how easily he baits me. He couldn’t know how pissed saying that would make me, could he? Just the tem “old lady” gets me worked up. It’s the club’s way of recognizing marriage but sometimes you get hitched in the clubhouse by the Prez instead of by a priest in a church. It’s friggin’ archaic and ridiculous and to me—demeaning. You’re basically owned by your man.

“I’ll see you later sweetheart,” he calls out laughing at me standing with my fists clenched and my face as hot as the Fourth of July.

The rumble of his bike’s engine drowns me out as I curse him to hell and back at the top of my lungs.

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