Duncan (Across the Aisle Book 2)

by Xyla Turner

  “Very much.” I nodded, as she gave me a bag.

  In it were my sweat pants, socks, a long-sleeve t-shirt, and tennis shoes. She also had her own bag, with similar clothes in it as well.

  “How did you get my clothes?” I asked her.

  “This morning, when I got the idea, I grabbed some because I knew you would not feel comfortable in other people’s clothes.” She jerked her head toward the piles of folded shirts, shorts, and pants in a small room with glass windows. “Go get dressed, so we can do this. Then we’ll grab some sandwiches on our way back.”

  It was my turn to squeeze her arm, as I was pleased with her choice.

  “Thank you.” I nodded at her, then we separated to change our clothes.

  The rush was almost better than releasing inside of Portia. Almost, but not quite. The half-hour went quickly, and then it was time for us to leave. We changed, grabbed sandwiches at the deli across the from Second Street, and ate them on the way back to the Hart Building. My entrance process was different from hers. When I asked her if she was coming inside, Portia declined.

  “I will see you this evening then,” I told her.

  “You have a dinner thing, so we can’t have dinner,” she replied, but there was a difference in her tone.

  It was not her normal happy self, but she was not sad either.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked her, since that was the only way to know.

  “Why are you asking me that?” she answered my question with a question.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking.” I wouldn’t let it go because I had to know.

  “I am thinking I don’t like your secretary, and I am thinking that if she disregards me again, I am going to snatch that fake bun off the back of her head. I am thinking that I wanted to have dinner with you, but I cannot. I am thinking I wanted you to fuck me like you did last time, but this time, slide three fingers in my ass. Maybe even a plug. I am thinking that this may need to wait.” She turned and surveyed our surroundings.

  “I will reschedule dinner, Portia.” I moved into her space, so she could hear me clearly. “I want dinner with you too, and I will get however many plugs you want or use my fingers to bring you pleasure. It does not need to wait and please do not touch my secretary’s hair because black women do not like it when people touch their hair. It’s a thing, I am told.”

  Portia’s head jerked back, and then the best thing happened. She laughed, out loud and uninhibited. It was beautiful. So much so, that I pulled her face to mine and bit her bottom lip.

  Her moan of, “Oh, Duncan. We can’t do this out here.” Did not register at first, until she pulled away.

  “Fuck,” she whispered as her eyes looked around and landed in one spot.

  Oh no.

  “Paparazzi,” she whispered.

  I turned to see what she was looking at, and sure enough, there was a guy on the lawn, taking pictures of us. Immediately, I started toward him, but Portia grabbed my arm and asked with what could have been fear in her eyes, “What are you doing?”

  “I am going to retrieve the pictures he took of us,” I explained.

  “Doesn’t work like that.” She shook her head and was pulling me toward the door. “Unless you have tens of thousands of dollars to cough up, and there is still no guarantee.”

  She was texting on her phone, then she stopped and looked at me.

  “We’re going to have to deal, okay?” She nodded. “It was only a kiss. Nobody knows who I am, and you are new to the Senate. It’s fine.”

  I was not sure about her assessment of things, but it was not the time to argue about it. She squeezed my arm and went inside with me, so she could exit another way. Things were not settled with me about the photographer, but there was nothing I could do about it anymore. When I returned outside after Portia left, the man was gone.

  My secretary was not pleased that I had her reschedule the meeting with Senator Klinger, but that was not my problem. If my Portia wanted to have dinner with me, then I would make it happen.

  By the time dinner came around, Portia had already texted stating that she was going to be cooking at my place. I opened all the windows and turned on the exhaust in advance because I could not have the smells lingering inside or clinging to my clothes.

  When she came in with two grocery bags, she looked around and asked, “Did you burn popcorn?”

  “No,” I replied.

  “Why are all your windows open?” she asked. “It’s freezing.”

  “The smells of the food will bother me,” I explained.

  She tilted her head to the side and smirked before saying, “Okay, Duncan.”

  Then she went into the kitchen and began to cook, a non-intrusive meal with noodles, chicken with olive oil and basil, a salad, and her own garlic-Italian bread.

  The food was good to my senses, and there was no smell, which made me feel even better. We settled in the living room, catching up on the other episodes of New Amsterdam, the television show. This went on until Portia looked up at me and said, “Fuck me now, Duncan.”

  This woman only needed to tell me once because that was my second favorite thing, outside of her company, being intimate with her. I turned off the television, pulled her to her feet and lead her to the bedroom. I stripped her naked, then myself, and dropped to my knees, so I could please her.

  I performed the alphabet several times and then sucked on her swollen clitoris. This always gave me success with having a woman orgasm. Well, with Donna and Portia. Those were the only two women I had ever been with. I was with Donna for quite some time, almost a decade, to narrow it down, but she had been gone for over a year.

  “Duncan,” Portia exhaled as I sucked on her clit, harder. “I’m coming, baby.”

  I stopped, but she pulled my head into her crotch and began to move around on my face, until her release. I scooted up her body, pushed her back on the bed, and grabbed a condom. As I was doing this, she turned over on her stomach and offered me her ass.

  “You want me to play with your asshole?” I asked for clarification.

  “Yes, Duncan,” she cooed in that soft voice she has after she’s had an orgasm.

  My thumb stroked her tight hole, then I asked, “Do you want my fingers or a plug?”

  Portia’s head jerked around. Her eyes were wide, but I was not sure with what.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked as I massaged the brown globes that fit my hands perfectly.

  “How much I want you to make me cum with a plug in my ass, while you fuck me until I pass out,” she replied and licked her lips. My cock hardened even more, as it jutted out to slap her ass all on its own.

  My hand patted her behind, and then I went to the drawer to get the plug I had purchased earlier from one of Trent’s connections. The man knew everyone in town, above and underground, I was coming to find out. I sterilized and cleaned it earlier, but I did it one more time before using it on Portia. She was watching me the whole time as her head lay on the mattress, while her butt remained in the air.

  When I returned to her, the glistening liquid from her wet heat, was calling for attention. I lay down the towel, moved Portia on top of it, and had the lube dripping down into her asshole. Then I slid the medium-sized plug back and forth into her ass. The moans and noises the woman made, had me harder.

  “Duncan, that feels so fucking good, baby.” She was writhing on the bed. “Fuck me, please.”

  I did not want her to beg because she never had to beg me for anything. Sliding on the condom, I lined up behind her and began penetrating her wet, but snug, vagina while her butt was filled with the plug.

  “It is so tight,” I told her.

  “Oh, God. Yes!” She moaned as I pushed further inside. “Just like that.”

  I continued to stroke in and out of her. Then that fire came down my spine, and I lost the control I had. The slap of my thighs against hers was music to my ears, as I pounded into my very own personal heaven.

  “Portia,”
I groaned as my orgasm came quickly.

  I wanted to last longer, but the tightness had me spilling my seed quicker than I ever had. The woman below me collapsed on the bed and lay there, as I somehow found the strength to remain standing. Once all of my energy came back, I scooped her off the bed and carried her to the shower, but not before placing the cap over her head first.

  “I’m tired, Duncan,” she whined as her head rested in the crook of my neck.

  “I know, but we have to be clean in order to sleep well,” I spouted off the same thing I’d said for so many years. It was almost like a broken machine in my head. I had to take a shower before going to bed. It was just one of many other things that had become a part of my routines.

  “Uhh,” she groaned but stayed still, so I could wash her, which eventually turned into drying, dressing, and placing her under the covers.

  I lay awake, thinking of what we just did, her term of endearment, and trying to come up with my own for her. What did it all mean?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Portia

  Duncan was waking me up at the butt crack of dawn again to go running, which I really needed to do. He ordered breakfast for us ahead of time, so by the time we came back from running, the delivery guy was pulling up. Once we showered, dressed, and were in the car, he brought up a weird subject.

  “You called me baby last night,” he explained.

  I thought back and then remembered being in a sex haze and pretty much bound to say anything, since I was so damn horny.

  “Yeah, is that a concern?” I asked, as I crossed my feet at the ankles, so my knees were facing him, and my heels were pointed to my door.

  “No, but what do you like to be called?” he asked me with the sincerest expressions.

  “You cannot be this sweet.” I cupped his face and pressed my lipstick-covered lips to his.

  My man, like the brute he was, did not kiss me back, but captured my bottom lip and pulled it with his teeth. I growled and nearly forgot about all the trouble that one act could have got us in yesterday.

  “I am not sweet,” he told me with his normal somber face. “I am a man. Men aren’t sweet.”

  “You are sweet to me.” I smiled at him, not caring if he liked it or not.

  “What do you want to be called?” he asked me again. “Your nickname for me is baby, but I need one for you.”

  “Surprise me,” I told him.

  He groaned, and this caused me to laugh out loud.

  “I should have put that question on the survey,” he mumbled. “Just tell me, as I will not be able to concentrate unless I get a nickname for you.”

  “Duncan, call me Portia.” I was still laughing. “It’s fine with me. Here’s my stop. I’ll see you…”

  We had not made any plans, and that made me nervous, since he was definitely someone that thought ahead and would get discombobulated if things were done spontaneously.

  “Our calendars should be synced by now.” Duncan looked at me with a puzzled look. “I told Erin to do it yesterday.”

  Pulling out my phone, I searched for the calendars and didn’t see anything. Shaking my head, I turned back to Duncan and said, “Nothing is shared.”

  “I’ll check when I get into the office,” Duncan assured me.

  However, for good measure, and probably against my better wishes, I commented, “I don’t like her.”

  “It’s good that she is my secretary then,” he replied, and the bad part was it was not even a snarky comment. He was being honest. I could tell by his face.

  Fuck.

  The bitch.

  I smirked and said, “Bye, Duncan.”

  Then I opened the door and made my own embarrassing exit after the secretary comment. He wouldn’t understand unless she did something to him. He had already explained to me that he did not pick up on social cues, like the very one she did by ignoring me.

  Repeatedly.

  Anyway. Duncan had a damn point. She wasn’t my secretary, and I did not really need to worry about her. What I needed to worry about was…

  Hold the fuck up?

  Why were all of these news vans in front of my headquarters? Today was a day I did not have to go to any of the sites, but I had a review with the East Coast Regional Manager about my stores. Headquarters was in Tenleytown, next to American University. There was usually nothing happening around these parts, but there were news vans definitely in front of Brown & Red Corporations.

  My phone buzzed, and I quickly pulled it from my clutch and answered without looking.

  “Portia Lane.”

  “Ms. Lane, this is Mr. Shen, the Regional Manager. It looks like we’ll have to do a change of plans. The media is gathered outside of the office, looking for, uh, you.” He cleared his throat. “Something about a Senator and a kiss?”

  AWWW SHIT!

  I put my phone back in my clutch, and probably didn’t even hang up. I immediately backed away from the corner where Duncan had dropped me off and found the Tenleytown metro station. Then I called Bernie.

  “Girl, I need to come over to your house, like now,” I gasped into the phone. “I’m catching the train.”

  “What the hell is going on?” She was just as panicked as I was.

  “The media, they’re looking for me…the train is coming. I’m on my way.” I hung up and grabbed my handy metro pass and hopped on the red line to get to Bernie’s house.

  By the time I arrived, Bernie was outside in the front of her mansion pacing and looking frantic. She was a truly beautiful woman, with her wild hair pushed back in a tight bun. Her face was more rounded from her next bundle of joy. She wore leggings with some expensive sneakers that probably cost enough to make her fly. Trent bought them, I knew, because she would not.

  “Girl, you scared the hell out of me,” she huffed and put her hands in her sweatshirt front pocket. “It’s all over the internet. Trent is laughing about the entire thing, but hearing your panic, I knew you were not okay.”

  I reached her, and we hugged, but then I heard, “Bernie, get your ass in this fucking house before you and my unborn child catch pneumonia.”

  Why that made me laugh in her face, I wasn’t sure, but she found nothing funny.

  “Shut the fuck up!” She barked back at him with a side yell, then looked at me. “Come on in. How long are you hiding out? Do I get to kick your ass out, like you did me?”

  Oh, that bitch.

  “Ha. Ha.” I laughed and went inside. “Soooo funny, Bernie.”

  I yelled in the house, “Trent, come and get your wife. She’s trying to kick me out”

  “You got to face the music someday.” He walked into the living room with Junior’s little legs around his neck.

  Junior lurched forward and yelled, “Godmommy!”

  “Hey baby.” I moved quickly toward him and grabbed him from Trent. “How are you doing? Getting ready for school?”

  He giggled and said, “No, silly. I’m not in school yet.”

  “You need to be.” I held him closer, so he wouldn’t fall.

  “I’m not potty trained yet. Daddy just wiped my butt.” The little boy sniffed like he smelled something.

  I immediately removed him from my hip and asked, “Did he get everything? Why are you sniffing like that?”

  Junior, his mom and dad burst out laughing, and at that mess, I put the little boy down. The whole damn family was crazy.

  “Ain’t nothing that funny.” I walked into the kitchen to grab a water, shaking my head.

  “Babe, I’m out. Love you, and remember tonight is our date night. Okay.” I heard Trent telling Bernie, “Not any date either. The date, date.”

  Her eyes looked at the man with nothing but desire, then she licked her lips and nodded.

  “Noted.”

  “Okay now.” He squeezed her ass. “You know how I like it.”

  “Uhhh.” I cleared my throat. “Godmommy and baby in the room.”

  “Uh,” Trent called back. “Baby has no ide
a what we’re talking about, and I already helped your man get your accessory. So, hush it, Porsh.”

  “Trent, believe it or not, I used to root for you when it came to you and Bernie.” I nodded my head. “But now…I’m still cheering. Thanks for helping a brother out.”

  He looked at Bernie and they both laughed again. I shook my head, walked over and plopped on the couch. I might as well make myself comfortable because this was not going well.

  “Fuck,” I hissed. “Duncan.”

  He would be freaking out if they cornered him about that kiss. He would not do well with all of that foolishness. I dialed his number, but after three rings, his secretary answered, “Senator Morgan’s mobile device.”

  “Hi, yes. I need to speak to Duncan, please. This is Portia, and he’ll know what it’s in reference to,” I told her with no attitude whatsoever.

  “I’m sorry ma’am, but I have been instructed to not pass along any messages to the Senator while he is having his private time,” she stated and ended the call.

  This bitch was going to catch me a case. I put the phone down and took a long breath. I needed to gather myself. We were about to have bigger issues than what was being presented right now. I would not. Would not. I mean, I would not be playing with this hoity-toity assistant. I turned to Trent.

  “When you go to work today, can you please check on Duncan, to make sure he is okay?” I asked him. “If the media was camped out at my job, they must have been bombarding him, too, to get a comment or something,”

  He stared at me for a moment, then nodded. “You like him, huh?”

  I sighed and murmured, “Yeah.”

  In a rare moment of Trent being serious about something that did not pertain to Bernie, he took a few steps toward me and said in a lower voice, “The man has been through a lot, Portia. It is important that you more than like him because he has fallen all the way for you. We joke and all, but take it from someone who never thought this was possible.” He whirled his finger around in a small circle, which I took to mean the whole house. “My wife, kids. My family. Even a glimpse of that to someone who didn’t think they had a chance at it, and then meeting someone willing to meet you where you are. He’ll bulldoze over any obstacle to get that dream. So…be sure.”