Page 26 of Duke

WITH MY COFFEE in one hand, I adjust my shoulder bag and walk to my economics class. I’m still pissed at Duke. But I slept like a frickin’ baby last night after I came on my vibrator.

Again.

He had me so worked up; I sat in the grass and cried for a bit after he left. He knew exactly how to touch me making me wonder if it’s some sick game?

After I finally stumbled into the house, I took my vibrator into the shower and unhooked the shower head and held the jet spray on my clit while the vibrator buzzed my G-spot with its thick head.

It was so good, but I missed his mouth on my breasts and his breath in my ear whispering dirty words.

I wanted his fingers playing with my pussy and his thick cock ramming into me from behind.

Stopping, I press my thighs together. I’m tingling and wet in the middle of campus.

This needs to stop.

I need to stop thinking about sex and Duke, period. He can’t be serious about taking me to be his woman. He’s probably going to leave town as soon as he finishes handling his father’s affairs and I can’t let him take my heart with him when he rides out.

“Shanna!”

I’m ripped from my thoughts at the sight of Spence jogging towards me. He’s handsome with thick light brown hair and warm hazel eyes. He smells like expensive cologne and new money and his clothes are always perfectly pressed. I’ve never seen him not wear a button-down shirt tucked into trouser pants. He already looks the part of a successful businessman.

“Are we still on for tonight?”

“Sure. But I’ll need a ride back. My car is in the shop. It’s an hour, is that okay? I got a ride in with a girl who lives near me, but she only has two classes this morning and won’t wait around.”

“I’d drive twelve hours just to see you,” he whispers kissing my hand.

He doesn’t let go as we walk to class. I don’t feel the intense; visceral, physical reaction that Duke invokes, but part of me wonders if my intense need to hate Duke fuels my lust for him. In some sick, twisted way, I want to fuck him until it hurts. I want to purge whatever craziness takes ahold of me when he’s around. But I need to stop letting him touch me when I have the promise of what could be, with the man who is holding my hand like I’m the only girl in the world.

It’s almost six. Spence is picking me up here at the campus library. After our economics class, he walked me to the student union and bought me a latte before kissing my cheek and telling me he’ll be counting down the minutes to our date.

He is such a gentleman, unlike Duke who just charged into my life and put his hands on me as if it was his birthright.

I quickly gather up my books and close my laptop. The heels of my low boots click on the floor as I enter the bathroom to apply a fresh coat of lip gloss and brush out my hair. I look good but nothing like when I’m tending bar. My skinny jeans tuck nicely into my fall boots and although my long sleeve top hugs my curves, not a trace of my ample cleavage pops out. After one final glance in the mirror, I push open the door finding him waiting.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thanks, Spence,” I laugh, “but you already saw me wearing this—this morning.”

“And you looked beautiful then, too.”

His words make me smile. Spence is so sweet to me. I don’t protest as he takes my hand in his and leads me to his shiny, new BMW parked outside.

As he drives us to dinner, he makes me laugh with the stories he tells me about his fraternity brothers at Delta Kappa pranking the fall pledges.

“We are throwing our fall festival party next weekend, you should come Shanna.”

“I’d love to, but I’m working.”

“Oh, that’s right. You mentioned before that your family owns a restaurant?”

“Ha,” I laugh. “It’s more of a bar, but I’ve been working on expanding our clientele. I hired a chef a few months back, straight out of culinary school in San Francisco and I’ve been able to squeeze enough of a profit out and invest it right back by refurbishing the place.”

“I’m impressed. You are quite the business girl, huh.”

I can tell by the look in his eyes, he means it. I grin, liking how Spence makes me feel accomplished, valued even. Like, I’m not just a pretty piece of meat men like to fantasize about fucking.

“Thanks. It’s a lot of work and my back aches constantly, but I love it.”

---