Page 112 of Duke
“Fuck. So fucking pretty. Love your tits bigger like this. Love how sensitive the baby makes—fuck.”
He shudders, and the next thing I know, ropes of his cum cover my breasts. It’s warm, a little sticky. He looks down at me, and his nostrils flare.
What were you saying about our baby?
I’m dying to know.
I’m dying for him to ask me if I want to keep it. Because I think I do.
I really think I do.
Looking down, my insides clench. I’m covered in him. The sight of my nipples glistening with his release is obscene. Why do I get the feeling that he’s marking me? Claiming me even?
I’mhurtingbetween my legs, but I feel a renewed bloom of heat there anyway.
Meeting his eyes, I move my hand up. I use my first two fingers to gather up some of his cum off my nipple, my breath catching at the need that bolts through me when I touch myself there. Then I put those fingers in my mouth. He tastes salty. Hot.
He watches me, eyes going dark.
I like this. I want this. I want you.
Gently, he pulls my fingers out of my mouth. Leaning in, he kisses me, his tongue slipping between my lips. The kiss is tender, sweet, a startling counterpoint to the lewdness of a moment ago.
Oh, cowboy, this is exactly how I want to start my day every morning.
The thought turns me on. It also terrifies me.
He breaks the kiss and rests his forehead on mine, our noses touching. “Lemme take you to dinner.”
My heart twists. “Are you asking me out on a date?”
Am I actually going to say yes this time?
“I am.” He presses his lips to mine. “You gonna run again?”
My first instinct is to fight the smile that pulls at the edges of my lips.
Today, I let the smile win. “I’m not going anywhere, am I?”
“‘Persistence pays off’ is our new motto, huh?”
“I am all about the long game.”
“501.” I feel his mouth move into a smile against mine. “I remember. So is that a yes?”
My pulse thumps. My every instinct screams at me to turn him down. Dates are dangerous. If he gets too close, he’s going to see my ugly parts. It’s safer to keep him at arm’s distance. We can still sleep together. We can even have a baby together. But we don’t have to date.
I call bullshit.
I’m so sick of my bullshit. I don’t know how to let go of my fear of letting people in. But I think a date—an honest-to-goodness date—is a good place to start.
“Yes.”
“Aw, yeah.” He ducks his head to kiss my neck. “There’s a fundraiser at Ella and June’s school on Saturday at five thirty. What if, after that, I come grab you—”
“Wait. What’s this fundraiser about?”
“You bid on the kids’ art, they sing some songs for you, and everyone feels good about it. It’s an hour, tops. I can be at your front door by seven at the latest.”
