DUKE: A Alpha Male Bad Boy Millionaire MC Romance (New Adult & Contemporary Romance)

by Jax Hart

  In his arms, I’m a woman consumed by lust. Thoughts don’t matter. The world ceases to exist. All I know is that I’ll die if he stops.

  “Hold on baby. I’m taking you to see the stars.”

  He lowers his head. His thick beard rubbing over my breasts before he greedily takes a nipple into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue.

  My hands run down the powerful muscles of his back and grab his ass. My hips rise off the bed, needing his cock buried deep inside of me. Both of us hiss at the contact.

  “I’ve hungered for you… for so long,” he rasps, entering me in one smooth stroke. He’s readied me with his mouth and hands so much; he surges through with little resistance.

  “Duke…,” I groan, threading my fingers through his hair as he ruts in and out, tenderly and fiercely at the same time.

  The alarm on my phone jerks me from my dream where I soared in his arms. Horny and grumpy, I snuggle deeper under my comforter. Using my hands, I seek relief. I’m slick and wet, my finger goes in smoothly. In and out, I finger myself while shutting my eyes and pleasing myself to the memory of him making me come that first time when he had me bent over on all fours in the dark supply room. I had rug burns on my knees for a week after.

  One hand rises to my breasts to pinch a nipple. The pad of my finger finds my clit, pressing down hard before plunging back in.

  I come in a short wave. It’s pitiful. But at least my mini-orgasm is something. I need to buy more sex toys. My hands can’t compare to Duke’s. Even dry-humping Spence made me come harder.

  Picking up my phone, I bite my lip. It’s been two weeks.

  Two weeks since Spence walked and six weeks since I saw my dream lover in person.

  Duke.

  It’s seven am.

  I know he’s up. Meat let it slip that Duke hardly sleeps, opening his shop early. With shaky fingers that hover over his name but chickened out a thousand times before—I press call. With sweaty palms, I listen to the ring in my ear.

  After two, he sends me to voicemail.

  Motherfucker.

  So much for being his one-true-love.

  Anger giving me courage, I call again.

  Instant voicemail.

  I text:

  Can we talk?

  No response.

  My anger propels me out of bed and into the shower, where I can rinse away the slickness of my desire for a man that right now, is ignoring my very existence on this earth.

  Fuck, he’s a rollercoaster ride. And I love it. I’m drunk on the push and pull. I can’t shake him, and it pisses me the hell off.

  I text him again after wrapping a towel around.

  Me: I hate you.

  Duke: Good.

  I hurl my phone across the open door where it lands on my bed. In a temper, I half-ass dry my hair and get dressed. My final semester started last week. I just need to survive until graduation day. Then I can get the hell out of here and start my new life.

  Straightening my shoulders, I catch my eye in the mirror. I’m Shanna fucking Flynn; a girl who needs nobody. I can take care of myself just like I always have.

  Opening my desk drawer, taking my flathead screwdriver out, I pop a floor board by my window. My hand reaches down to the row of coffee cans hidden underneath.

  Opening them, I re-count the bills held in rubber bands.

  Twenty grand.

  Twenty grand in tip money that I’ve saved since Pops let me bus tables when I was a kid to now when I manage the goddamn place.

  Freedom. I can taste it just as much as I still feel him.

  Damn the man to hell and back.

  Blowing back a lock of hair falling on my face, I carefully place the board back in place.

  Pops has kept me under his thumb for so long—I can’t take the chance that at the last minute he might freak and try to stop me from leaving. Keeping this money hidden is the only secret I’ve ever kept.

  Gathering up my laptop and keys, I let the front door slam behind me with a bang. I don’t need to talk to Pops. He gets my message loud and clear. One heart-to-heart can’t erase years of lies.

  Whatever snow was on the road has turned to slush. The gray sky meets the gray street as I make the drive South to campus. I grabbed a coffee a few miles back, but even the hot liquid can’t melt the ice in my heart. I’m harder than I was before; if that’s even possible. I’m made up of more jagged edges than I was before. The one hard truth is: Everyone I’ve loved has let me down. I can’t take the silence of my thoughts anymore. Turning on the radio, I find a country station and sing along with. I feel somewhat happy for the rest of the drive; the music pulls me out of the gray and towards blue skies. For a moment. Until Kane Brown starts crooning, “What Ifs” to me, bringing my thoughts right back to him.

  This song is us.

  But he was a fool playing some game. I think. Why else does he touch me, then leave me?

  Make me beg for his kiss only not to give it?

  Tell me I’m it for him, then ride off and never come back?

  Hurt tears spring from my eyes, and as I pull into campus it occurs to me with a laugh: I never shed one tear over the break-up with my first boyfriend. Instead, I cry for the man I never had.

  I FINALLY FEEL like I can breathe when I’m covered in the smell of grease and oil, underneath the belly of an old Ford. It’s jacked up—as jacked up as I am, waiting for word if I’m a sick-fuck lusting for my half-sister or if I’ll be set free to win the woman of my dreams back.

  My head’s not right.

  This situation is too twisted even for a jaded bastard like me. If I could exorcise my feelings for her from my body, I would.

  I’ve been sleeping four hours a night. Waking before the birds and running in the dark. Hitting the gym after that and racking more weight in the gym during lifts than a UFC fighter. After a mother-fucking cold-ass shower, I make my way here, to my shop. To the solitude of working on cars and bikes that don’t speak to you in a way that clutters your head. I grab a wrench and get to work.

  Wiping the grease from my brow with the back of my hand, I shake my head. I almost fucked that girl, Fiona last night after putting away a half bottle of Whiskey. But she only got me half-hard.

  Christ, I’m a mess.

  Maybe I should try fucking a truckload of chicks. But the damn thing is, I know it’s her face I’ll see in my head when I come. Hell, I’ll probably roar her name as I spurt on another woman’s belly.

  Shit.

  I groan, remembering how full and round her tits were. How she tasted. How snug she was when I penetrated her with my finger.

  I’m instantly hard. Filling my jeans with my swollen dick.

  Flinging the wrench down, I roll away from the truck and stand. Cursing and hissing through my teeth, head bowed I shut my eyes and pray. Pray that this isn’t some sick joke.

  The buzz of my phone in the back pocket of my jeans snaps me out of it.

  “What?” I bark.

  “We got him.”

  “Zach?”

  “Not yet. We got his hitman. The one who did the old lady.”

  “Save him for me. Where you at?”

  “The cabin. The one we got Cortez’s girls from. Figured it’s as good a place as any to take care of business.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Placing my phone down. I rinse my hands under a steady stream of cold water. Carefully, putting all my tools back in place, I tap the Ford. “I’ll be back baby.”

  Whistling now, I walk to my back office and pull my leather on with pride. My new President patch sewn over my old man’s.

  I’m gonna avenge her death for Shanna. Sister or lover… I love her. I’d kill for her. I’d die for her. If it turns out we are blood—I’ve been turning over what to do in my mind. I would need distance for sure. Distance and time to forget how she stirs my dick.

  Canada or Mexico. I’m not sure yet, but I need to get the fuck out of here if it’s true.

  Squinting as my eye
s adjust to the dark. I find him sitting in a puddle of his own piss.

  “You the one?” My words low and lethal.

  His answer is a wail, too pitiful for any man to make.

  I pivot to Will, “You sure this pansy-ass fuck did it? He couldn’t fuck a virgin on prom night.”

  He nods, “It’s him. Confessed when his balls were in the vice.”

  “He made me do it. Said he’d take my girl.” The bastard wails.

  “I get that. I’d do anything for my girl… including killing the bastard that murdered her mother.”

  Slowly, stalking towards him, I take my coat off. I’ve never killed a man in cold blood, face to face without the fog of war clouding my head.

  But I’ve been pushed to the edge. The death of my father, not having Shanna, being pulled back into the club and made Prez all because of Zach’s shit, is too much. I’m a man on fire and this time he’s the one whose gonna burn by paying for my sins along with his.

  She’s called and text a dozen times. It takes everything I have, not to answer. Ignoring her feels like taking a knife and carving out pieces of my own heart.

  With a fist as hard as granite I hit his gut first, knocking the wind straight out of him with one blow. My right knee meets his face. The sound of his nose breaking doesn’t even begin to satisfy the beast in me. Grabbing him by the back of his head, I yank him up. His face becomes my punching bag.

  Red haze is all I see. All I feel.

  But through the mist, I see her; swaying her hips as she puts the bills soggy from beer into her tip jar. Her knowing half-grin as she looked at me over one shoulder as she poured shots.

  With a sigh, I fling the half-dead man away from me.

  I can’t… won’t be a murderer. If I’m ever lucky enough to make her mine—I don’t want to touch her with the hands of a cold-blooded killer.

  Wiping his blood off on my jeans, I fish my phone out of my back pocket. “Christy? I got the man who forced Layla Flynn off the road.”

  “… you mean Colin Flynn’s old lady?”

  “Yep.”

  “Christ. Is he still alive?”

  “Barely.”

  “Where are you?”

  “At the same cabin where I told you to go last fall.”

  “You sure you got the right guy?”

  “Yep. Got his confession recorded on his phone.”

  “Jesus. Get the fuck out of there and Duke…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Stop playing vigilante. This isn’t a Clint Eastwood movie.”

  “No worries. I’m done cleaning up Zach’s shit. But if I find him first—”

  “I’m gonna delete this call from my log. This conversation never happened. Now get the hell out of there and take any DNA you left with you.”

  Disconnecting with a smirk, I turn to Will, “It’s time to go.”

  “You sure boss? It won’t take much to finish him for good.”

  I shake my head, “I’m sure. Let’s go.”

  Will walks over to the man and takes out his knife. “I’m gonna cut your motherfucking tongue out if you talk. You hear me? I got people on the inside.”

  The piece of shit dumbly nods his head with what energy he has left. Will cleans the doorknobs with gloved hands and bleach while I pick up the bloody rags. Christy has my back, but it doesn’t hurt to help a lady out.

  We make fast work covering our tracks and jog out to the truck. “You hear back from the lab yet?”

  “No. I expect it will be any day now.”

  He nods. “She’s something else. It’s easy to see how a woman like that can make knots out of a man.”

  I lower my head for a second swallowing hard.

  I’m about to fucking cry.

  Cry over a woman I might never have.

  “Jesus,” he slaps my back hard, “snap the fuck out of it and drive.”

  “Yes, sir,” I reply with a snort.

  Once we get down to the main road, I grimace seeing the flashing lights of a cop car coming towards us.

  We pass. I don’t look over but raise my hand in a half wave.

  She beeps.

  “Damn, that blonde cop is fine.”

  “You wanna piece, eh Will? You’re like three decades too old for her?”

  “Nah, you young’uns don’t know how to fuck right. You go too fast… gotta do them good and slow.”

  “Who are you calling young, old man? I’m no frat boy.”

  “No… no, you ain’t. God help that young filly Shanna if she’s not your blood.”

  “Oh, she’ll be my blood. The question is by birth or marriage?”

  MY COFFEE CUP FALLS from my hands and clatters to the sink. My eyes take in the broken ceramic, but I’m not in the present. Biting my lip, I rock my hips into the counter, seeking relief from my fantasy.

  The one thing Spence gave me was sexual relief. Since he’s been gone, my dreams of Duke have followed me from sweet slumber into the daylight.

  I know without a doubt I’m the horniest virgin who has ever lived. Half of me wants to just go to one of those frat parties and let some meat-head give it to me really good.

  I catch the ghost of my reflection in the window. My hands cup my breasts, my nipples turn to peaks from being circled by my own fingers.

  My palm slaps the counter; I never replaced the vibrator Duke stole last fall. I didn’t need it when I had Spence. Now I have no one, which is usually the way I like it. But now that I’m a horny bitch, I need more than my own hands.

  I’m still enraged at him. At myself for being weak and calling him again.

  I was walking through campus and saw a blackbird perched above me. In an instant, the memory flooded back, of my mom and me.

  She used to sing me a song about them. It gutted me. I have all these sweet memories mixed with the knowledge of what a harlot and druggie she was.

  I needed him, needed to talk with him. I hoped it could take some pain away, but he only gave me more.

  “What?” He barked into the phone.

  “D-Duke?” I had whispered, reverently, cherishing the sound of finally hearing his rough voice.

  “What do you want, Shanna? You still fucking that frat boy?”

  “No-no. We’re over.”

  He was silent for a few seconds before growling, “Don’t ever call me again. Stop texting me too. It’s over.”

  “We never began,” I had answered.

  “Thank fuck for that. You’re a real head-case. A big ball of drama I don’t need.”

  “Duke? What happened. You’re so cold. So mean… this isn’t you... ”

  “What the fuck would you know little girl? It was a game. A joke. I wanted to pop your cherry. End of story. So, I told ya’ all kinds of shit to get in your pants. Wake the fuck up. You were a distraction while I was in town, nothing more.”

  I didn’t listen to anymore.

  I couldn’t.

  What was left of my mangled heart was done after that.

  Unzipping my jeans, I slip a hand inside my thong and touch myself. I’m wet and frustrated. My eyes close, head falling back, I let the memories of him takeover. He rules over me and I let him. He’s not mean and cruel. He’s the master that seduced me last fall.

  My other hand pushes up my shirt to pluck my nipple from my bra and roll it between my fingers.

  “Well, isn’t this a pretty little sight.”

  Spinning with a hand still pressed between my thighs, I shudder at the huge man standing five feet away wearing leather and sporting the patch of the MC. But I’ve never seen him before.

  “Who the fuck are you? And what the fuck are you doing in my house?”

  He’s in front of me before I can blink; his thick hand yanking mine from my pants. I try to stop him but can’t. I squeeze my eyes shut and force my head away as he takes each finger placing them in his mouth. He licks and nips, “God damn you taste fine, like fuckin’ cupcakes. No wonder, he’s mad about you. Shall we send him a pic of us?”
>
  He takes out his phone, pulling my top to my neck and rips my bra in two, posing for a selfie with my now naked breasts. “Let’s see… we better take a few more. Come on, smile for your man cupcake.”

  “He is gonna kill you.”

  “Maybe, but not until after I take you for a ride; looks like you’re hot for cock baby. I gotta a real big one for ya.” He sends the text.

  My hands are still pinned by one of his. I don’t cry or scream. I know Pops will be dead if I do. As much as I hate him right now, he’s the only parent I have.

  “Who are you anyway?”

  “Come on sugar. I heard you were a smart, educated woman.”

  “Zach?”

  “Bingo baby.”

  He moves closer, hips pressing me back against the counter. His thick erection spears into my belly. I’m horny, but not for this asshole.

  He laughs low in his throat, “It was too easy. He left you unprotected and alone in the dark, sugar. But don’t worry. I’m gonna make you come before I snap that pretty little neck of yours. Maybe I’ll even let you come while the life is leaving your body. I’ll eat out your pussy while I choke ya’. Fuck. You’ll think you’ve died and gone to heaven. Maybe, you actually will.”

  His dick pulses against me. His arms slacken for a split-second. With all my strength, I jerk one hand free and feel the counter for a broken shard from my mug. The only thoughts running through my head is—live. Survive this. Survive him; somehow.

  With a strength that only comes from fighting for your life; I shove the jagged edge into the side of his neck as hard as I can.

  He bellows, grabbing it as I run for the fire poker in the other room. Reaching it I race back, stumbling at the sight of blood spurting all over the room. He yanked it out. Now he’s bleeding out on my kitchen floor. In his eyes; is a resolute need to take me to hell with him. He lunges at me, meaty arms grabbing at my neck. He’s too close for me to swing at. I grab his dick jerking it to the side and twisting it like Twizzler.

  He rolls off me, “YOU BITCH!”

  My arms rise, at the same time he pulls his gun.

  It’s over with two quick shots.

  “Pops?”

  “Did he hurt you? You know what I’m askin.’”