Duke of Manhattan

by Louise Bay

  She closed her eyes in a long blink. “Then I’ll only wear it down from now on.”

  I groaned at the thought that she’d change the way she wore her hair for me. To have a smart, independent woman want to please me above herself? It felt more powerful than anything I’d ever experienced. I couldn’t resist her any longer, and I slid my hands around her back and pulled her against me.

  “It’s our wedding night,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” I said. Perhaps those words should have made me pull away—after all, I’d been running from commitment my entire life. But nothing about being bound to the woman in my arms frightened me. “I’m going to make sure you remember it.”

  “I know you will,” she said.

  As I lifted her, she wrapped her legs around my waist and twined her arms around my neck, pressing her mouth to my jaw as I walked us over to the bed. It seemed fitting that I’d fuck my wife in a bed—traditional. At least for the first time tonight. Back in New York, I’d have her in every room in my apartment. I’d enjoy hearing her screams echo out across Manhattan.

  As I set her down on the mattress, she dragged her hands down my chest. “You’re still dressed.”

  “Yes, too busy looking at you.”

  She began fumbling with my buttons but I stepped away. Not because I didn’t want to be naked. Not because I didn’t want her touching me, but because I knew I’d be faster. I stripped off my shirt and pants and was undressed in just a few seconds.

  Scarlett stared at me from where she lay propped up on her elbows.

  “Just a few more hours and I’m going to make you scream so loud Manhattan will have a run on ear plugs.”

  “Hours? How—”

  “It’s thirty-six hours until we fly to New York.” I stalked back to the bed and gripped her ankle, pulling her to the edge of the mattress. “Forty-two hours until we land. Then after customs and the journey into town, I figure it’s forty-four hours max until I make you come in my apartment where you can be as loud as you like.”

  Her breath hitched as I fisted my cock on an upward stroke. “Are you wet, my bride?” I asked, using my free hand to push between her legs. Her panties darkened with her juices. God, I loved how her pussy smelled.

  “Always,” she replied.

  “I’m going to fuck you while you’re wearing that until it’s worn and ragged and soaked in our come.” I quickly unwrapped a condom, covered my dick and slid her underwear to one side. I pushed my tip over her clit, trailing down to her entrance and back up. She was more than ready and I was done holding back. I pushed in, just a fraction of the way home, and exhaled. God, it felt good. Right.

  Slowly, I pushed deeper.

  “Oh God,” she cried.

  “No, baby, you need to be quiet for just a few more hours.”

  “I can’t. It feels so good and it’s been too long.”

  It had only been a day, but I understood how she felt. I couldn’t get enough of this woman. Of the way she held my dick inside her, squeezing tight. Or the way her breath felt against my skin. Or how she tried to choke back her groans. I learned more about her with each fuck. And every time, I felt myself falling a little further under her spell.

  I pulled back the crotch of her panties, the elastic adding to the friction on my dick. I lost my focus in the acute pleasure of her and I fell forward, my hands bracing against the mattress. “Christ, you feel good.”

  I needed her closer and like an awkward teenager, I maneuvered us both up the bed. I liked her body heating mine and mine responding in kind. I liked being able to whisper in her ear about how good, tight, smooth she felt.

  I slid my hand down the lace of her corset, then sank into her on a curse. “Christ, just as I think it can’t get better with you,” I choked out.

  I kept my pace slow and steady but every atom of my body tightened with the pleasure of fucking her. It was as if I was only a breath away from an orgasm every time I touched her.

  “My husband,” she whispered, gripping my shoulders.

  Her words lit a fire within me.

  I was her husband.

  It might be in name only, but while we were married, I’d work hard to deserve that title—I wanted her to be happy. Wanted to make her happy.

  Her hips twisted, her fingernails digging deliciously into my skin. Jesus, it was too much. Being over her like this, her beneath me, taking my dick like it was the best thing I could give her. It was more than I deserved.

  “Ryder!” she called. I knew what she needed and I was going to give it to her. Lifting myself without breaking my rhythm, I placed my palm over her mouth. Her body relaxed as if she was finally able to let go, and as she did, her muscles began to pulse around me.

  “Oh, so soon,” I said. I savored her growing tightness around me and it was as if her orgasm lit mine. Her eyes fluttered as her scream vibrated across my palm. Fuck. I was gone. I clenched my jaw as I pushed into her in jagged, uncontrollable thrusts.

  Totally focused on finding the edge, I couldn’t control the groan that ripped through my body as I poured into her, desperate to let her have every last drop of my come.

  I slumped over her, needing her close, wanting to prolong the togetherness.

  “Ryder,” she whispered, trailing her fingers down my back.

  “Christ, did I pass out?”

  Her body moved below mine as she laughed. “No. I can vouch for the fact you did not pass out. You did, however, make a lot of noise.”

  I’d always liked a little dirty talk during sex, but I’d never been loud in bed. It seemed I couldn’t help myself when Scarlett and I fucked. It was different—more intimate.

  I rolled over and discarded the condom. Then settled in and pulled Scarlett close so she rested against my side, our legs twining. “Fuck it. I was fucking my wife. What do they expect when you’re just so goddamn sexy?”

  She leaned across my body and dropped a kiss on my nipple at the same time as she slid her hand over my cock.

  “You’re insatiable,” I said.

  “With you, apparently I am.”

  My chest expanded at the thought that I was the best she’d ever had. But it still wasn’t as much as she deserved.

  “I’m going to do as much as I can to quench your thirst tonight, Mrs. Westbury.”

  “Big promises.” She pushed up on an elbow, her hair falling over her shoulders providing an ineffective curtain across nipples just peeking out of her corset. I pulled one between my forefinger and my thumb.

  “Yes, I think I can keep up.”

  She straddled me, her hands flat on my chest, her ass in the air. She was perfect—unselfconscious, sexy. Mine. And I was hard. Again.

  “Let’s see, shall we?” she said.

  Tonight was going to be a long, glorious night.

  Twenty-One

  Scarlett

  I squeezed my legs together beneath my desk, my nipples grazing against the lace of the bra with the movement. I hoped no one in the office saw me wince as I shifted in my chair. I could still feel the press of Ryder’s palm against my inner thighs, his hand wrapped around my hair, pulling my head back so he could graze his teeth on my neck. I was really sore. All over. I’d have been more than happy to have more of Ryder, despite the aftereffects. We’d barely stopped touching each other since the wedding six weeks ago—it was almost as if someone had set down an hourglass as we took our vows, and from then on it had been a race to fit in as much sex as we could before the last grain of sand fell and the marriage was over.

  Not that I was complaining. I wanted Ryder as much as he seemed to want me. But then, maybe he always had a voracious appetite. I knew this wasn’t my default setting, that he’d awakened something primal and insatiable in me. But it wasn’t just physical. There was endless talking in the middle of the night. Even though we were exhausted, I had no desire to sleep and apparently, neither did he. When we weren’t making each other come, we were sharing our lives. We talked about his grandfather. His time in bo
arding school. The fact that his mother hadn’t been at the wedding and no one seemed to mention it. We talked about Violet and Max and why I’d spent so long in a job I didn’t like. I talked about how much I’d loved my husband and how devastated I’d been when he’d left.

  Nothing was off limits.

  Except for the feelings I didn’t want to acknowledge. I didn’t tell Ryder I no longer constantly thought of my ex. I didn’t mention that I was beginning to believe that life after the divorce could not just be bearable, but really good. Fun and full of things I’d never dreamed of.

  And he never mentioned how we acted like newlyweds in every way despite the fact that our marriage was only true on paper.

  “How are those numbers?” Cecily asked as she took a seat on the edge of my desk.

  “Good, I’ll have November’s P&L by the end of the day. And I think it’s going to be ahead of budget.” I wiggled my mouse on the spreadsheet on my screen.

  “Awesome. We should celebrate. Do you and Ryder want to come over to dinner this Saturday?” Of course I’d told Cecily of the arrangement Ryder and I had. She’d tried to talk me out of it at first but I was determined. This was my business as much as hers. And I wasn’t giving her anything. I would just replace her half of the loans with a loan of my own, on much more favorable terms than were currently in place. She’d eventually relented, understanding that I either married Ryder or we went bust.

  I’d never accepted a social invitation for us both. I’d been to a couple of his work functions but our free time was mainly spent at his apartment, together and alone. “Sounds good.” I wasn’t sure if Ryder would want to hang out with my friends. I wasn’t sure it made sense in the context of our arrangements. Being together at a public business function helped legitimize our marriage and living together was a requirement. But a private dinner with friends was new territory. I wasn’t sure. “I’m free but I’m not sure about Ryder. I can ask him.”

  There was nothing about the way we interacted, either in public or behind closed doors, that suggested we weren’t a couple. Ryder touched me constantly. He’d grabbed my ass on the croquet lawn in front of his entire family, for Christ’s sake. It would be interesting to see how he reacted—how far our arrangement went.

  “Okay, let me know. How is shacking up together going?”

  I couldn’t help but grin. Living with Ryder Westbury was definitely an adjustment. His apartment, situated in Tribeca, was nothing short of beautiful and big enough to get lost in.

  “It’s different.” Before the wedding, I hadn’t realized how much living together was going to be a huge shift in my life—from the commute to having to be considerate of someone else when you left your dishes in the sink. “For both of us I think. We’re getting used to sharing space.”

  It wasn’t that his company made me uncomfortable. It was just the opposite. But last night, he’d proudly led me into the guest room that he’d cleared out for me. To give me “my own space.” The crushing wave of disappointment had threatened to drown me until he’d kissed me. One thing had led to another, and as usual, we’d ended up fucking all night. Still, even the morning after, that damn guest room underlined the fact that we weren’t a couple—this wasn’t our apartment. It was his place and I was a glorified boarder.

  We might act like a married couple, but ultimately, I had my own bedroom in his apartment. I had to remember that we weren’t really together. Great sex was simply the icing on top of our business arrangement. I was going to have to make an effort not to forget.

  “Have you rented out your apartment?” Cecily asked.

  I shrugged. “Not yet.” I’d had a couple of agents around about renting my apartment, but the more I thought about Ryder giving me that room yesterday, the more I wanted to hold on to it. I needed to retain the independence that it represented. I understood I couldn’t stay the night there. If anyone was keeping tabs on us, spending nights in separate apartments would give us away for sure. Having met Frederick, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had someone checking up on our situation back home. We’d pulled off the wedding, but Ryder had always been so vocal about not wanting to inherit. Such an abrupt change of heart was bound to cause suspicion in someone like Frederick.

  “You don’t hate him though? I mean, it’s going okay?” Cecily asked.

  “I don’t hate him at all. He’s been a perfect gentleman and his family is lovely.”

  She crossed her arms. “A perfect gentleman? How disappointing. I’d hoped that maybe there’d be a spark between you. That it might turn into something.”

  Hopefully the heat in my cheeks didn’t give me away. Cecily didn’t know we were sleeping together.

  “He’s totally gorgeous. And as rich as God,” Cecily said.

  And hung like a horse. And a devil between the sheets. And attentive and caring and funny. Urgh. I was going to have to work very hard to separate reality from whatever was going on with Ryder and me.

  Cecily snapped her head up. “Speaking of …”

  I followed her line of sight to find Ryder heading across the office, grinning at me. “I brought lunch,” he said as he reached my office and held up a brown paper bag.

  I rolled my lips together, trying to stop myself from smiling.

  “And a parcel.” He produced a package, just smaller than his hand.

  “I’ll leave you two guys to your married bliss,” Cecily said, slipping off my desk.

  “Hi,” I said as she left. “I was just thinking about you.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I wanted to suck them back in. I shouldn’t be saying shit like that to him. It sounded too intimate.

  He handed me the package. “I’ve been thinking about you all morning, too.”

  We both had to get better at separating real life from our arrangement. I knew myself well enough to know that I couldn’t withstand his compliments and lovely gestures along with the physical intimacy and still remain emotionally closed off.

  “Will you shut the door?” I asked.

  “Sounds good, does it lock?”

  I ignored his comment but as soon as the door shut he came over to me, pulled me from my chair, wrapped his arms around my waist and bent to kiss me. There was no one here. No audience to perform in front of. Just as there hadn’t been behind closed doors ever since we’d flown to England.

  “You feel good. I’ve missed you.”

  “You can’t have missed me already. You saw me this morning.” He’d fucked me from behind before breakfast as I’d gripped the chest of drawers beside his bed. Sex with Ryder was how I’d always imagined it could be—how I’d always hoped it would be with Marcus. It was spontaneous, passionate and plentiful.

  “It’s been too long,” he said, releasing me to take a seat on the other side of the desk. “Hungry?” he asked, diving into the paper bag he’d brought with him. “You didn’t eat much at breakfast so I thought I’d better make sure lunch came to you.” He pulled out an avocado and shrimp salad and slid it over to me.

  “Thanks.” Lunch was a really thoughtful gesture, and I found myself wondering if it was just a coincidence that he’d chosen a salad I’d have chosen for myself.

  “You like shellfish, right?”

  “Sure,” I replied, opening the plastic box and taking a fork from the center of one of the rolled up napkins that he’d picked up. “So what brings you here, husband?”

  He shrugged. “I told you. I missed you. And I wanted to give you this.” He nodded at the package next to the empty bag on the table.

  Maybe he had just missed me. There was nothing in our rulebook that said we couldn’t be friends, was there? And friends could miss each other, couldn’t they? “What is it?” I asked.

  He grinned at me. “It’s wrapped up. How would I know? I’d forgotten Grandfather gave it to me just before we left for the flight back. I found it when I was rearranging things in your room yesterday.” He unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite. “Eat,” he said with his mouth full.

  I r
olled my eyes and dug my fork into the salad he’d brought for me, ignoring the mention of my newly allocated space.

  I couldn’t remember my first husband ever bringing me lunch while we were married. He’d worked just a couple of buildings down from my office, though I couldn’t recall ever meeting during the day. We were both always so busy working toward a future we weren’t going to share.

  “How was your morning? Make a billion dollars? Two billion dollars?” I asked him.

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “My wealth is meant to impress you. Not provide ammunition for your sarcasm.”

  I laughed. “Oh, thanks for telling me. I’ll know for next time.”

  “Does anything impress you?” he asked, tilting his head to one side as he looked at me and I reached out and swept his hair off his face.

  “Plenty of things.”

  “My penis?” he asked and I laughed again.

  I feigned my best thinking face before saying, “Your bed is really comfortable. You have a very impressive mattress. And I sleep like a baby on it.”

  “Not what I was hoping you’d say and it sounds like a problem rather than something to be impressed by.” He frowned. “A new bride shouldn’t be getting a good night’s sleep.”

  “Oh I have no complaints about the amount of sex we’re having, that’s for sure.” I popped a cherry tomato in my mouth.

  “It’s a lot, huh?” he asked.

  Christ. It was probably all too normal for him. But not for me. I wanted Ryder. All. The. Time. I’d never wanted sex so much in my life.

  “But I think I’d rather risk my dick falling off than stop. I see you, and I want you. Even now, watching you with that plastic fork is turning me on.”

  I wiggled my eyebrows. “Cutlery does it for you?” I twisted the fork between my fingers. “Where do you want it?”

  He smiled and shook his head. “You do it for me.” His gaze went from me to the view of Manhattan. “I can’t keep my hands off you.” His tone was thoughtful, as if he couldn’t quite understand the pull between us.