Rohan looked stubbornly forward toward Kyle’s house up ahead.
“I don’t know . . . . I was thinking—”
Duke was already undoing his belt. “I don’t want to hear it. Whatever you do with Bianca is none of my business. I sincerely wish you happiness.”
“Duke—”
Rohan pulled toward the curb, and Duke opened the car door. Icy air walloped into the car and the twins stirred in the back seat.
Rohan parked the car on an angle. Duke hurried out to gather a sleeping Jones into his arms. Janine slid out after.
Never had he been happier to see his friend. Duke and Rohan helped settle the kids in bed, Kyle a constant buffer between them.
“Thank you so much, Duke,” Kyle said as they headed into the kitchen. He rolled up the sleeves of his flannel pajama top. “Want a cup of coffee?”
Rohan politely refused. Clearly he was eager to slip back into the car and talk.
“I’ll take a tea,” Duke said, settling in against the chipped vinyl counter.
Rohan watched him carefully with quiet calculation. Perhaps shaded with regret.
Or was that Duke’s wishful thinking?
Warm tea in hand, they settled into lighthearted chitchat. Duke fixed his gaze on Kyle. His friend didn’t tick his boxes sexually, but he was a good-looking guy. More on the slender side, with delicately chiseled features. A warm—if tired—smile that pinched the end of his nose.
Rohan excused himself to the bathroom, and Duke deflated against the sink. Something Kyle noted immediately. “Damn, are you okay?”
Duke shrugged. “Been better. Hey, do you know anyone you can match me up with?”
Kyle straightened. “You mean, more than something casual? What’s going on?”
A toilet flushed down the hall. Duke nervously shifted. “Maybe you and I could go out? Talk about it?”
Kyle worried his bottom lip. “Well, the kids.”
“We’ll order food in and chat here. How’s tomorrow?”
“Yeah, sounds great.”
Rohan strolled back into the kitchen, and Duke gave Kyle a flirty smile. “Tomorrow night. It’s a date.”
Duke’s stomach was a knotted weight in his gut.
The ride home thickened the tension.
Rohan tried to talk, and each time, Duke acted childish. Changed the conversation. Refused to make eye contact.
At home he found Bianca at the dining table with a bottle of wine. At her suggestion to join her, Duke grabbed a glass and filled it to the brim.
Downed it all while holding Rohan’s gaze.
He set down his glass delicately and smiled. “I’m heading out again. You two have fun talking.” He walked to the doorway and turned back. “Oh, you forgot this in the car.” Duke grabbed the jewelry box he’d stuffed into his pocket. He tossed it, and Rohan caught it deftly.
Duke fled upstairs and wriggled into his extra-tight jeans. He had a driver on call, and ten minutes later, after dodging Rohan in the east gallery, he was speeding toward his favorite club.
His phone buzzed, and Duke couldn’t help but read the message.
Rohan: Come home.
Rohan called, but Duke was too chickenshit to pick it up.
Duke: I need a night out. Don’t worry about me.
Rohan: But I do.
Duke gave a frustrated sigh.
He asked his driver to make a few rounds. The idea of entering the club nauseated him. All he could imagine was Rohan coming in there for him.
Coming in there. Risking his reputation.
Duke mulled over that like he had every day. Only tonight, it no longer tasted of hope.
* * *
Rohan sat on the chaise in the gallery, elbows braced against parted thighs, staring at the spot where he’d found Duke on his knees about to suck some journalist’s cock. He’d looked so sexy, hair mussed, shirt in disarray. The way he’d looked at Rohan, his gaze pure insolence and unreleased lust.
Rohan had known Duke fucked around. Knew he was experienced. But seeing it before his eyes had swamped him with thoughts he should never have considered.
He might have left it at thoughts. Might have been strong enough to say no, keep his distance. But that all crashed around him the moment he’d followed Duke to his day job.
He’d always loved Duke, but the exact shape of that love changed that day. Deepened. Felt close to bursting with every kiss they stole.
He ground his phone against his forehead, praying—as he never did—that Duke would come back to the manor. Home.
His phone rang.
Not Duke. An international business call.
He stared at the screen.
“You going to take that?” Bianca asked, holding a glass of red wine.
The jewelry box bulged in his pocket. “I’m supposed to.”
She plunked next to him on the chaise and peeked at the screen. “I think that should go to voicemail.”
“What else do you think?”
Bianca smiled. “What bothers you most? That you’ll lose the SmallQ empire? Or admitting you’re in love with your cousin?”
He laughed mirthlessly. “Truthfully? I just want my family to be happy.”
“Which part of it?” She kissed his cheek and rose. “If it’s not that besotted boy, let him go. He deserves more.”
* * *
Bianca went to bed, and Rohan reluctantly followed, every step heavy. He paused at Casey’s open door. She lay on her bed, curled on her side, night-light on.
She stirred and sat up.
“You okay?” she asked.
His throat hurt. “I’m thinking about our parents. You. My favorite people.”
“And your most-most favorite?”
He sighed. Nodded.
“They’re the best. They give you forever smiles.”
“Forever smiles?”
She touched her chest. “The smiles you feel here.”
* * *
After driving around aimlessly for another hour, Duke directed the driver to the manor and snuck inside the sleeping house.
He had to talk to Rohan. Endure the conversation where they ended their thing. Hopefully have sex one last time.
Procrastination possessed him.
He bypassed his bedroom, walked past Casey’s and Bianca’s rooms, and found himself stealing into Rohan’s old office. Before he knew it, he was stripping sheets off the Georgian furniture. Dark wooden bookshelves backed the large desk. Under the desk, a glimpse of crimson caught his eye. He knelt and drew out an open box.
“Dammit,” he croaked, as he failed to beat back the sting in his eyes.
He reached into the box and drew out the quilt. The handmade quilt Rohan had started making him.
Patches from Rohan’s old T-shirts that they’d bought to immortalize their shitty taste in music back when life had been simpler.
He sat at Rohan’s desk near his computer, gripping the quilt on his lap.
The door shifted. Duke stiffened but didn’t glance up from the blanket.
Rohan’s bare feet came into view.
Fingers pushed up his chin, angling Duke’s face upward. He closed his eyes, fearing Rohan would be able to read every thought.
Then again, perhaps closed eyes said everything, too.
His heart raced.
Lips brushed against Duke’s, and Duke sucked in a breath.
“Look at me,” Rohan said.
“Can’t.”
“I dare you,” Rohan breathed against his lips.
Duke opened his eyes, and Rohan slowly drew back. He wore boxers and a white T-shirt, like he’d planned on sleeping. A contemplative expression crossed his face. “Duke,” he murmured, sliding his hand over Duke’s jaw, back to his nape. He squeezed lightly.
“We can’t keep doing this,” Duke said.
“You’re right.”
The quilt trembled in Duke’s grip. This was it. Them, over. “I need something real. Need love. Need a family.”
&nbs
p; Rohan’s thumb stroked Duke’s skin, slipping up into his hair. “I know. I glimpsed that before. But your actions tonight . . . .”
“Saw through it all, huh?”
“A sudden date with Kyle? Throwing the jewelry box to me. Thinly veiled.”
An embarrassed laugh strung out of him. “Stupid feelings.” Whatever, after tonight, he’d drown them.
“Not stupid. You deserve more than this. Better.”
Rohan dipped and feathered a kiss against his lips. Was this their last kiss? The last time they would be this close?
Duke dropped the quilt and balled his hands in Rohan’s T-shirt. One last time. “Fuck me, Ro? On this quilt?”
He would remember this week they’d shared together every night he lay under it.
“I never wanted you to see that ring,” Rohan whispered at his ear. “I kept telling myself to bring it in and give it to Bianca but I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry I hurt you.”
Duke pressed his fingers against Rohan’s lips. If they talked, Rohan might decide it was a bad idea to have sex with him.
Duke needed him once more to commit every intimate second to memory. “Later. After.”
Rohan nibbled the tips of Duke’s fingers. “In here?”
“Yes.” The office, where Rohan would think of him every time he worked. Regret choosing SmallQ over a life together.
He forced the thought away, wanting only the beautiful parts for their last time, a stolen moment of contentedness.
Rohan kissed him again, parting Duke’s lips with his tongue. The hold on his neck tightened and Duke wanted to drown into it. His body flooded with emotion and arousal, cock hardening against his thigh.
“We need lube, condoms,” Rohan said, stepping back.
Duke snagged him back. “Just . . . spit.”
Their eyes met with understanding. Rohan’s eyes were half-lidded with arousal. A burning need for Rohan to own him made Duke throb.
“I—”
Duke kissed away any second questioning. “Need this.”
Rohan kissed him deeper as he undid Duke’s pants. He yanked them to his ankles. Pulled off his sneakers. Tossed them into the drawn drapes. Duke’s jeans and underwear followed.
Three more yanks of his shirts, and Duke was naked.
He picked up the quilt between them, while Rohan moved his laptop under the desk. He spread the quilt over the desk, and Rohan pressed against Duke, clothes against his naked skin.
He groaned into the warmth leaking through the worn cotton.
Sliding a hand under Rohan’s shirt, he helped pull it off him.
Rohan steered him back to the desk, warm palms pressing against his chest. Duke lightly jerked his shaft. Rohan stopped the hand Duke had on his cock and bent until his voice tickled the head. “Let me.”
Rohan flicked his tongue over the slit of Duke’s cock and looked at him. Duke was close to coming from that look alone.
He groaned as Rohan swallowed him into his mouth, one hand gripping his base. The wet heat felt incredible, and Duke threaded a hand through Rohan’s hair. He tried to rein it back, but he was pleading.
Rohan sucked him deeper and deeper into his mouth with every pass. Duke strained to pump into that tight throat, but the position didn’t give him the leverage—he was at Rohan’s slow, torturous mercy.
Sensation built, and Duke panted. So close. He dropped his hands to the quilt and the feel of all that history under his fingertips threw him over the edge. “Ro!”
His orgasm stretched as he clutched the quilt. He arched into Rohan’s hot mouth, coming and coming. His whole body thrummed with release, and Rohan drank every bit.
Rohan withdrew his mouth. Cool air flooded over his cock, and Duke felt the loss inside and out. A shiver racked him, and Rohan stood and wrapped him into a tight hold. Kissed the top of his head. “I want to take you back to my bed,” Rohan murmured.
“No. Here. You have to take me here.”
He pulled back. “Why here?”
“When you’re at work, I want you to think of me.”
Rohan’s gray gaze danced. He shoveled his arms under the quilt and heaved Duke over his shoulder.
It was a position Duke was familiar with, but naked, a new experience. “Put me down or I’ll bite you.”
Rohan laughed and snuck him down the hall.
Duke waited until Rohan’s bedroom door shut before he nipped Rohan’s side
It earned him another laugh and a slap against his ass, muted by the quilt.
Rohan tossed Duke onto his soft bed and lay on top of him, the quilt jammed between their bodies but not enough to hide Rohan’s hard cock pressing against Duke’s stomach.
“Stop pouting,” Rohan said.
“I had a particular vision how this night would end.”
“Oh, Duke. We’re just beginning.” Rohan pressed a kiss against his lips. “We don’t need to do it on my desk.” He dragged his lips up Duke’s jaw. “I am always thinking about you during work.” At Duke’s ear. “You’re quite distracting.”
Duke preened. His cock stirred.
“Get inside me. I’m good to go.”
“Already?”
Duke tossed him a smirk. “I’m eight years younger than you.”
“The cheek.”
“You love it.” Just not enough.
Rohan pulled supplies from the nightstand drawer.
Duke grabbed his wrist and made Rohan drop them on the pillow next to his head. His voice shook. “I didn’t suggest dicking me raw because I’m lazy.”
“You’re not lazy, Duke. You’re the furthest from lazy—”
Duke shut him up with a kiss. He couldn’t handle any more words that made his chest seize. “Come inside me.”
Rohan’s gaze shuttered. “I want lube. Want to make it good for you.”
“You’re impossible!” Too caring.
Rohan pushed the quilt from between them and knelt between Duke’s splayed legs.
Duke lifted his ass onto Rohan’s knees, heels dragging over twisted sheets as he spread his legs. His cock was half-hard, and Duke lazily stroked himself. He loved the way Rohan’s mouth parted in arousal. His eyes were dark. His chest hair, matted. Nipples pebbled with goose bumps.
He’d miss Rohan’s deep voice. His earthy, almond scent. The way he clapped his hands against naked skin and dragged calloused fingers up the insides of Duke’s thighs.
The lid of the lube snicked open.
Rohan squeezed a dollop on two fingers and stretched Duke more tenderly than was necessary. Mimicked fucking him while his mouth trailed kisses over the curve of his hip, thigh, knee.
Rohan’s wriggling fingers inside of him weren’t enough.
Arousal shivered tauntingly through Duke.
A tongue dipped into his navel, Rohan’s chin nudging the head of his cock.
“Seriously, I will QuickLine the fastest way to compel your dick in me,” Duke said.
Without lifting his lips off him, Rohan looked up. Breath tickled his sternum. “Why do you use QuickLine?”
Rohan withdrew his fingers, squeezed lube onto his cock, and stroked it over himself.
He crawled over Duke and lowered his warm weight on top of him. Kissed him soft and languidly, like he wanted to remember their last time, too. “Hmm?”
Duke slid his hands over the broad planes of Rohan’s back. Gray eyes met his, daring him to say the truth. “Why would I support the app that stole my parents from me?” That is stealing you.
“Duke . . . .” A more urgent kiss. Frustrated, perhaps.
“If you think I feel guilty about it,” Duke said, forcing back the ache trying to break through, “I don’t. Now stick it in me, or I’ll tell the world I’m a Quicky.”
The voice in his ear was low, gravelly. “Not a Quicky tonight, you’re not. I’m going to make it last.”
Duke arched into the warm, solid strength of Rohan’s chest. Their cocks bumped, and Duke dug his fingers into Rohan’s hips.
&nbs
p; He couldn’t wait any longer. He needed Rohan. “Please.”
Rohan reached between them and positioned himself. The blunt head of his cock nudged teasingly against Duke’s hole.
Duke wrapped his legs around Rohan’s ass and urged him forward.
Rohan penetrated him with a heavy gasp, and Duke groaned at the fullness. Their gazes clashed briefly and Rohan buried himself deep inside Duke.
Breath trembled out of him, and Rohan began a steady, delicious thrust. Rohan’s hands were everywhere; caressing, tweaking, slapping against his ass.
He skated his fingertips down Duke’s arm and locked their fingers together. Pumped them every time his cock pushed inside.
The massage over his prostate, his dick rubbing between them, their entwined hands—it made Duke see stars.
Hold back. He needed to hold back. Make this last.
Rohan swiveled his hips, paused. “You okay?”
Duke bucked him into action. He needed Rohan to increase his speed, to act for this one last time like he needed to possess Duke.
“Give me everything you’ve got.”
“Everything.” Rohan thrust harder and faster, sliding over his prostate in a rhythm that matched the thumping of his heart. A whirlwind of pleasure whipped up inside him, growing stronger with every hit.
Duke leaked pre-come. He panted, begging for more, and Rohan’s cock spread him, filled him. Possessed him like Rohan had endless everything to give.
On and on, Rohan pumped into him. Their hot breaths tangled. Urgent pleas bubbled over Duke’s lips.
He was a storm of sensation, growing bigger and bigger, so close to an orgasm unparalleled by anything he’d ever experienced.
“God, you feel so good around me.”
His hot breath was a tender caress against his jaw while their bodies slapped together. Rohan grasped Duke’s cock and stroked him.
The sensitive pressure rolling over his cock head had Duke begging. “Please, please, please.”
Keep me. Love me.
Be more than my cousin. Be my best friend. Be mine.
His orgasm slammed into him and his ass clenched around Rohan. Ropes of come shot against their chests, dribbled down the curve of Duke’s pec.
Daring Duke: Love Letters #4 Page 11