Joy Ride: A Virgin Romance (Let it Ride Book 3)

by Cynthia Rayne

  “You were submissive?” She couldn’t imagine anyone controlling Duke. Talk about having a tiger by the tail.

  Duke smirked. “In undergrad, my English professor had a thing for me. She had a rep for being a cougar on campus, and after I took my English final, she propositioned me in her office. I ain’t been the same since.”

  “And you… you liked it?”

  “No. I fuckin’ loved it. It was the first sex I had since… since my stepfather. I was a mess—shy and nervous, and scared as hell.” A muscle in his jaw worked. “Ashamed. Julia taught me a lot—she was patient, helped me work through my issues.”

  “Why did it end?”

  “I think you can guess. Once I got my footing, I discovered I’m more dominant than submissive. Like I said, Julia is a cougar—and we weren’t meant to last. She’d think I was ancient now.”

  “You aren’t old.”

  He snorted. “Don’t sugar-coat it, Firecracker. Trust me, I’m aware of our age difference, but it don’t bother me none if it don’t bother you. I’ll be forty in two years.”

  Something about men in their late thirties or early forties fascinated her. They came into their own at that age. They were physically attractive and had their lives together too—or maybe it was a bit of maturity. Guys her own age still behaved like teenagers.

  “I like the age. I think it’s perfect, actually.”

  “Glad you approve.” His leer was sardonic.

  “So I can do whatever I want with you?” It was starting to feel like Christmas again. She’d never had a man at her mercy before, been able to touch one. She was curious about his body.

  “Yes, ma’am—more or less.”

  “I think you’re wearing too many clothes.” Feeling bold, she crossed to the bed and flipped the switch on the wall, lowering the bed.

  “Did you give me an order?”

  “Yes, strip, please.” She drifted over to him, waiting, watching.

  He immediately pulled his black muscle shirt over his head. He had a faint dash of curly black hair on his chest and abdomen. Rose circled him and ran her hand down along the whip marks on his back—like hers, only faded. They were both scarred—inside and out. Hers would diminish with time, too.

  Duke undid his belt buckle and then shucked his jeans. He tossed them both on the end of the bed.

  Oh, wow. Duke went commando, and he had a tight, well-defined butt. She was about to run a hand along his sexy backside when he hissed.

  “Sorry. Not there. I don’t like my ass played with or touched at all.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean to.” Rose stepped around his body to face him.

  “I know.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Right out of the gate, she’d made him uncomfortable.

  “No, it’s okay. Shoulda mentioned it before—it’s not an area I find sexy.”

  “I’ll avoid it in the future.”

  “I’d appreciate it.” Duke cleared his throat. “Now that you’ve got me naked, whatcha gonna do with me?”

  “I want you on the bed,” she said. “On your back.”

  Duke laid down on the mattress, all six foot four inches of him—he was golden, rippling with muscle.

  Rose bit the inside of her cheek. “Place your hands at your sides and keep them there.” It sounded a bit too pleasant to be an order, but she’d never been the boss in any bedroom.

  Duke did as she asked. Duke had a large circumcised penis—he’d shaved his balls—and he was hard. Rose hadn’t even touched him yet. She tentatively climbed on the bed with him and straddled his upper thighs, avoiding his crotch. She placed a palm on his stomach, and his muscles jumped beneath her hand.

  His teeth sunk into his lower lip briefly.

  Rose slid her hands up his torso and then bent down to kiss him. She pressed her lips to his and slid her hands into his dark hair, holding him still.

  Duke reached for her once more, as if on instinct, but then slammed his hands back down against the mattress.

  She knew he wanted to deepen the kiss, hold her head so he could plunder her mouth. Instead, she teased him with flicks of her tongue, little nips. Never quite giving him full access. Then she traced the seam of his lips with her tongue, asking him to open for her. When he did, she slid inside and tasted him fully.

  Duke growled.

  Rose went for an endless kiss, pressing her body against the length of his and tipping his head back. She kissed him breathless—devouring him. His hips bucked up against her in response. Rose could feel the hard length of him, pressing against her. She slid her fingertips over his scratchy chin then down the line of his throat, tracing his Adam’s apple as it bobbed.

  Duke gave a low, tormented moan. “Rose, I need more.”

  “Not until I say.”

  She explored the expanse of his chest with eager fingers and faltering kisses. He had such a strong, powerful body and he was consenting to her control. When she moved lower again, hands resting on his abdomen, his hips bucked—and his cock twitched, leaning towards her as if it had a mind of its own.

  “I think you’re gettin’ the hang of dominance, Firecracker.”

  “I'm being thorough.” She kissed a path down to his waist. With a wicked grin, she nuzzled his balls, skipping the length of his cock.

  He gave a sharp cry.

  Rose took pity on him and mouthed the shaft—kissing only, not licking or sucking. From the fidgety way his hips jumped, she knew he wanted more.

  Oh, this was delicious.

  “You’re driving me insane. Teasin’ me.”

  “I’m a tease? You insisted on a twenty-minute relationship talk.”

  Rose started back at the base of his cock and licked him, gently tracing each vein, following it up the length. Rose avoided the sensitive tip.

  Duke thrust beneath her.

  She put her hands on his hips and tried to hold them still.

  Duke wanted her, really wanted her. For the first time in her life, she had sexual power over someone else, and it was heady. Rose marveled at the situation—she had this big, powerful, devastatingly sexual man completely at her mercy, begging for her touch.

  Rose finally tasted the tip of his cock, laved it with her tongue. He howled in response, and his breath came in pants.

  Duke babbled, his words coming in a rushed gasp. “God, I want you to suck me—my cock deep in your mouth. Get you on your knees, holding your head as I thrust in.”

  Rose grinned. “Maybe, but not today.”

  She wanted to try something—Rose straddled him and drew her panties to one side so she pressed the head of his cock against her clit. God, she was so wet, greedy and needy, and he felt so hard and hot—so thick. Slowly, she rubbed herself against him.

  “Fuck me,” he growled, staring between her legs. “I need to be in there.”

  Duke gripped the bedspread, clutching the fabric to keep from reaching for her. He met her gaze, watching her face as she stroked herself with his cock. His eyes were inky black, and they looked deep into her—missing nothing.

  Rose closed her eyes then and concentrated on her own pleasure. For once, it was all about her—a sexual release just for her—one which wasn’t coerced. One she could bask in, feel good about. She writhed against him.

  Duke didn’t penetrate her, but his shaft glided between the smooth, slickened lips of her sex. He grasped her hands, holding them in his as she bucked against him.

  “Yes, take it, Rose. Take your pleasure.”

  Rose rode him hard until she came, leaving him breathless and hard beneath her.

  She collapsed on his chest, laying there until her breathing went back to normal. Rose waited for the rush of shame that usually came afterward—this time, she felt warm, sated.

  Duke rubbed her back and buried his face in her hair. Still a bit dazed, she reached for his cock, stroking him a bit. And with a sigh, Rose bent and took him into her mouth, loving him with her lips and tongue. His beautiful, graceful hands came to rest in her hair, n
ot directing, merely holding her head, seeking closer contact.

  She glanced up the length of his body, and he watched as she sucked him. He made the sexiest noises–sighs, moans, and murmured pleas. She worked him, delighting in the power he’d given her, bringing him to the brink several times until he exploded in her mouth.

  And Rose swallowed every drop.

  ***

  Duke held Rose as she slept, her head on his chest. He didn’t do this kind of touchy-feely shit. Yes, he held submissives after an intense scene, but it was only good aftercare. He didn’t feel a need to touch them, per se, but he wanted to be a gentleman, or what passed for one in his world.

  Yet Duke couldn’t stop touching her—stroking her hair, the long line of her back. He couldn’t get close enough to Rose. She was literally on top of him, and it still felt too fucking far away.

  Rose was dainty and feminine, and it drove him a little crazy. She brought out a side of him he didn’t know he had–made him feel protective, jealous, and another feeling he couldn’t quite place. And, good God, the scent of her intoxicated him–magnolia, a hint of vanilla, and beneath it all, the musky aroma of woman.

  I am losin’ my ever-lovin’ mind. Layin’ here in the dark waxin’ poetic.

  He’d intended to be all disciplined and shit, start slow—instead, he’d spent the entire day in bed with her—they’d fucked again, but mostly they talked. About what seemed like meaningless shit–stories from their childhood, their favorite movies. He couldn’t stop jabbering away.

  His stomach growled—it was the middle of the night, and he hadn’t eaten much all day. He knew she hadn’t either. Duke decided to make something quick and easy for them. Then maybe he could persuade her to get a bit kinkier.

  “Firecracker? Wake up, darlin’.”

  She grumbled in her sleep, pressing in closer, and Duke laughed at the way her nose scrunched up, looking all pissy.

  He tried again. “Firecracker, wake up. I got a hankerin’ for waffles.”

  “Hmmm?” She was sleep-rumpled and disoriented. He couldn’t help but feel a bit smug.

  “I’m gonna whip up some waffles. You hungry?”

  Her gurgling stomach answered for her.

  “Come on, let’s get somethin’ to eat.”

  They tugged on some clothes, jeans for him, and she pulled a t-shirt over her head. Duke led her upstairs to his kitchen and had her sit at the island in the center, on one of the stools. He didn’t bother turning on the overhead lights—instead, Duke switched the one over the stove on, leaving the room in shadows.

  Duke made the batter from scratch with butter and whole milk. Growing up, Sunday morning waffles were a ritual. He used to watch his mom make them from scratch and couldn’t eat one without thinking about her. For some reason, he wanted to share the family recipe with Rose.

  They’d get up early, walk to church, and then eat together. They never had much money, but his mother splurged on Sundays. Sometimes she bought thick-cut bacon from the butcher in town, and they really indulged themselves. Even though Duke didn’t go to church anymore, he still made waffles on weekends, and every time he ate one, it felt like a benediction.

  By the time he got the batter mixed up, Rose was awake.

  She perched on her stool watching. “Wow, you can cook. I’m impressed.”

  Duke laughed. “I’m no Voodoo, but I can make this without fuckin’ it up.” He didn’t need to look at a recipe or measure anymore. After pouring the batter into the waffle iron, he pulled a couple of plates from the cupboard and forks from the drawer.

  Soon, they both had piping hot waffles slathered in butter and real maple syrup. He loved the way she filled the holes—making little syrup cups out of them instead of pouring it all over the waffle. Rose ate every bit, and Duke made a mental note to make them again for her. She needed some meat on her bones.

  After she finished, she smiled at him and licked the tip of one finger, which made his jeans tighter in the crotch. “That was delicious.”

  “I’m glad you liked it.” He studied her face for a moment, noting she had a smear of butter on the corner of her mouth. On impulse, he leaned over and licked it.

  Her mouth parted, subconsciously begging for a kiss.

  Duke was happy to oblige. “I want you again.” His arms encircled her waist, as he deposited a quick kiss on her mouth. “I’ll be in charge this time. Sound good?”

  “Yep.”

  “Good. The traffic light rule is still in effect. If I do something you don’t like, stop me.” Duke crossed to a drawer and pulled out a linen dinner napkin. When he’d bought the house, Eddie had insisted on decorating and bought all sorts of girly crap. She’d be horrified Duke was about to defile the napkin.

  He wanted to do something kinkier with Rose, but he didn’t want to push her too hard.

  He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her sweet mouth. “Do you trust me?”

  She nodded, but there was the slightest hesitation.

  “That’s what this game is about—trust. I want to build on our trust until it ain’t a question anymore.” And he knew from experience being blindfolded heightened other senses. He wanted her to drift away, get lost in pleasure for a while.

  “I’m gonna blindfold you now.” He secured the napkin around her eyes. Then he lifted the edge of her t-shirt, pulling it up and over her head, leaving her naked.

  Duke ran a hand down the length of her willowy body. She was beautiful even though she was painfully thin–her hip bones and collar bones were sharply pronounced, and she had small breasts—a mouthful. Duke loved her tight ass and legs that went on for miles.

  “Come with me, Firecracker.” He took her hand, led her onto the deck—it was a chilly evening in late September.

  Her nipples pebbled from the cold. “We’re outside?”

  “Yes, but it’s the middle of the night—no one is around, and we’re in the shadows of the porch.”

  Unable to help himself, he slid a hand between her thighs—her pussy had gone liquid, wet and hot for him. Her mouth parted as he played with her.

  Fuck me.

  Duke was already swollen and thick. Sometimes all it took was a look from her, and he got hard. With a groan, he released his cock from his trousers and fisted it, pumping—the head was purple, the shaft straining. He wanted inside her so badly, he thought he might die.

  Duke led her further onto the deck, and the boards creaked under his bare feet as he brought her over to a rocking chair. He’d always wanted to have sex in one but never seemed to get around to it.

  Tonight was the night.

  Duke sat and then pulled her on his lap, lining up their bodies and positioning his cockhead at her entrance. Then he tugged on her hips until she sank down onto him.

  “Oh, God.”

  Her pussy was a velvet sleeve, fit snug around his shaft, like she’d been fashioned for him—and so hot inside. Fuck, she felt so damned good he never wanted to leave. With teasing slowness, he rocked them both, letting the motion of the chair fuel his thrusts—it created a leisurely but relentless friction, which drove him a bit insane.

  As he rocked, Duke pushed her hair to the side and kissed the back of her neck.

  Rose hissed in response.

  Duke slid a hand between her thighs to play with her clit—it was a tight nub, and he worked it until she squirmed.

  “Duke!”

  Rose seized his other wrist, nails digging into the flesh.

  He loved it, wanted to see her marks on his body, almost as much as he wanted to mark her. Gently, he traced the raised scars on her back. She deserved to have a different sort of visual reminder, ones made from lust, from desire.

  With a growl, he picked up the pace, rocking into her with greater force—the wood beneath them squeaked in protest.

  “Are you close?”

  “Ohhh, yes.” She trembled on top of him, hips arching.

  “I want to hear you come for me—make it loud.” With that directive
, he pinched her clit, and she wailed, shuddering on the edge of an orgasm. Duke nipped the back of her neck, kissing it once, before finally biting down—hard.

  With a shattered cry, she came.

  Duke rocked a couple more times, pushing his cock a bit deeper into her. Growling, he came, pumping his seed into her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning, Captain banged the gavel on the table, bringing the club meeting to order in the boardroom.

  Duke shifted in his seat. He’d never been much of a joiner, and these meetings annoyed the shit out of him one way or the other.

  They were about as fun as a vasectomy.

  The meeting space had been designed to scare lesser men. The metal entrance doors were stamped with the image of a stallion’s head along with the club name. A quote from Revelations had been carved into the long oak table in the center of the room: Behold a pale horse. And his name that sat on him was Death. And Hell followed with him.

  Another Bible quote hung in a poster-sized frame on the wall: And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers.

  Unfortunately, Duke had to play the part of dedicated brother—that meant giving a flying fuck about everyone else’s business. He hunkered down in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and listened as Captain went through old business. He’d never understood the point. Like they’d all gotten fucking amnesia since the last boring meeting?

  He’d rather be in bed with Rose. He’d left her dozing in The Vault so he could make it to the meeting. It’d been nearly impossible to pry himself away from her.

  “After Rock went missin’, the Raptors have been sniffing around, but they haven’t tried anything yet,” Captain said.

  The brothers nodded.

  Daisy had shot Rock in the head when he wouldn’t answer questions about Rose’s disappearance. Duke had disposed of the body in the desert.

  “That brings us to new business, the Raptors’ whorehouse.”

  Coyote nodded, opening a folder in front of him, stuffed full of grainy pictures. “I hacked into the security cams surroundin’ the place. I’ve also been using the bank footage on the corner as well as the liquor store’s feed. It’s a high traffic area, lots of men in and out. They’ve upped their physical security.”