Duncan: Across the Aisle

by Turner, Xyla

  “Duncan,” I whispered as my heart sped up with the care and meticulous detail he had taken.

  “Yes, Portia,” he stood in front of me with anticipation written all over his face.

  “Thank you.” My voice caught as I slipped on the shower cap and grabbed his hand leading him to the shower, so I could show him just how I felt.

  Just like the last time, he fought me until he succumbed to the pressure of me stroking his cock. I was on my knees in the shower, pleasing him. My eyes were closed for most of the time because the water was on full blast, and the way I was sucking him off, his body couldn’t yield enough to keep me from getting my face wet or the water from splashing in my eyes.

  “Portiaaaa.” Duncan growled as I kept taking him deeper and deeper. “Ohhhh, woman.”

  At that point, he backed me up against the wall and began to powerfully push his cock into my mouth, stretching my throat. My gag reflex had definitely relaxed since the last time. I squeezed my fingers into his butt cheeks causing him to grunt louder. I wanted to give him this. He slid one hand on my head and tugged, keeping the shower cap intact. I felt his cock expand, and then he was pulsing down my throat. I breathed deeply as I swallowed his cum. He groaned at the last spurt.

  Duncan helped me off my knees and began to wash me with the type of body wash I normally used.

  “Did you go out and get everything that I answered on the survey?” I finally asked as the warm feeling came back again.

  “Yes,” he replied.

  No chaser, pretense or wonder.

  “Thank you.” I opened my legs as he used the Summers Eve soap, which almost made me giggle. “This is amazing.”

  “You’re welcome!” He nodded as he quickly washed with his loofah.

  I opened my mouth to say something but stopped, it was just sex.

  “Would you like some tea?” He asked me while drying me off.

  “No thank you.” I laughed. “I think you warmed me up.”

  “Good.” He nodded and dried himself off.

  Once we were back in the bedroom, he pulled some tight white spandex looking underwear from a drawer, along with some socks, and a very snug t-shirt. On his dresser, there were a few familiar looking products that caused me to smile: my deodorant, perfume, and a folded hair wrap. There was also a nightgown hanging on the back of the master bathroom door, which I did not see. I spotted a folded comforter on my side of the bed. Well, not the side he slept on last time. “Portia, do you need anything else that will help you sleep through the night?” Duncan asked.

  This actually made me laugh out loud, as I slipped the nightgown over my head.

  “Sorry, Duncan. I just…well, yeah. I didn’t feel comfortable staying here, but…” I waved my hand around the room. “This makes me feel more at home.”

  Duncan nodded and sat on the bed.

  “Good, Portia.” He nodded and patted the bed. “We need to rest.”

  Yeah, okay.

  “Duncan.” I pointed to him with my open palm, right side up. “I’m probably going to attack you in your sleep looking like that.”

  Pointing out that his tightie whities would be a challenge of the wills. He was growing hard even with me looking at him. Yeah, no.

  “Restraint is a virtue,” he replied.

  “Yes, one that I don’t possess.” I finished tying my hair up and unfolded the comforter, using it as a sleeping bag. “Don’t worry, I’ll lock myself in here and use my restraint.” I was trying to be sarcastic, but that went right over his head.

  Duncan twisted his body, so his legs were on the bed, and he began to lie down.

  “Good night, Portia,” he said in a low voice. “I expect to see you in the morning, since you are at home.”

  Wait, what?

  I didn’t…uh.

  His eyes closed; the conversation was apparently over.

  At home?

  Chapter Nine

  Portia

  I stayed through the night, and when I was in my deepest of sleep, I was awoken by a tall figure looming over me.

  “Holy shit, Duncan,” I yelled and jerked back, as he stood over me with those piercing green eyes. “What are you doing?”

  “Going for my morning run,” he answered. “Come.”

  “Uh, come.” My head was shaking in the negative. “I’m not running anywhere. I have no clothes or tennis shoes.”

  He looked at me and held up his right hand with what looked like a running outfit, full gear with even white socks and a sports bra.

  “Duncan!” I nearly whined, since I already knew why he was doing it. “It’s from the fucking survey, right? I said I wanted to lose a little weight and now you’re making me run even when I don’t want to.”

  Duncan placed the clothes and shoes on the bedside table and replied, “No, I did it because I want your company when I run.”

  One of my eyebrows raised and I asked in a low voice, “Can I drive, while you run?”

  “That is not acceptable.” He picked up the clothes again. “We leave in ten minutes. I do not want the city to wake yet. This is the only time I like D.C.”

  Then he left. No other words. No bye. No warning. Just said what he had to say and left the room. That was his modus operandi, and I had nine minutes to get myself together and go outside to die. I haven’t worked out since my college mandatory physical education class.

  Just as I expected. He was running like the Olympian he is, and I looked like a slug, barely making it. Duncan didn’t slow for me, and he had already reached his mark, and turned around. We were walking toward each other.

  “Duncan,” I wheezed. My chest felt like it was about to beat right out of my body. “I couldn’t keep up.”

  “That was evident.” He nodded toward me as the sweat from his entire body glistened.

  Damn.

  “I don’t really run,” I told him, but he kept walking with me trailing him.

  “That’s fine. You can just run with me when you stay over,” he stated matter-of-factly. It sounded like a done deal, and it would be all the time.

  “Should we discuss this, yet?” I asked, once my breathing became normal.

  “Discuss what?” he asked.

  “What we are doing, for one,” I said and began to address the elephant. “We’re fucking, and you are buying my bath and body gels, clothes to go running, and saying shit like, when you’re over. I mean, is this casual? Or exclusive. Like, how does this work?”

  I shut up.

  I liked him.

  A lot.

  I have never had a man like him show care for my needs, but God knew, I didn’t want to get used to this shit and then have it snatched away, like everything else in my life. Then I’m left with people the likes of my mother. Selfish bitches who only care about themselves and use others.

  “What do you want us to be?” Duncan asked me, and I noticed he had stopped walking and was pulling on the bottom of his shirt.

  “What do I want?” I scoffed. “I like you. I’m not with anyone else. Are you?”

  “Where do you want to go?” Duncan asked.

  I turned and walked away. He followed in silence.

  When I reached his place, instead of letting me in, he turned and asked, “Are you upset with me? I would like to know what I did.”

  I sighed. “I want to go home. Can you open the door, so I can get my shit?”

  “You are leaving me, again.” His eyebrows drew together in confusion.

  “Duncan,” I snapped, but caught myself. “Can we go inside and talk?” I finally answered.

  He nodded his head, put the key in the lock, and let us in. Once we were inside, he went to the kitchen and brought out water with my ice chips and a glass for him. This made me smile and calm the hell down.

  I plopped on the couch, took a nice cold sip from the bottle, and dived in.

  “I like you Duncan. More than I thought I would. But when you make comments that you expect me to be here or about me being home, it can ge
t confusing. I just don’t want us to get confused. You know?”

  Duncan sat down and nodded, before saying, “I understand. I like you very much, and I want to spend all of my free time with you. I know that is unacceptable, but if I can only see you every three days, then I want to make sure I can keep seeing you as long as possible. I want you to feel comfortable here, so you do not want to go home and, therefore, will not leave. I do not want to make the same mistakes I did when we first met and scared you off, nor do I want to have intercourse with anyone else but you.”

  Fuck, this man. He breaks me every time because he is so goddamn honest.

  “I feel the same way,” I replied with a smile. “So how about we take it one day at a time? Okay?”

  “That is acceptable.” He nodded and took a sip of his water. “Now, our schedule includes a shower and whatever you wanted to do last night. We have an hour and a half window to do so.”

  “Last night?” I couldn’t remember what he was talking about.

  “You mentioned something about an attack,” he said with a serious tone.

  “Ahhh, yes. I have permission to attack you?” I was asking for clarification.

  “In the shower, yes.” He nodded, stood, and left like he usually did.

  By the time I made it to the shower and was naked, he was already in there, letting the water run over his entire body with both his hands on the shower wall. Without thinking, I rubbed my hands over his back, and he bristled at first, then he began to calm down. With my Black Hair Matters shower cap on, I ducked under him and stood between him and the wall.

  “I want you to fuck me hard, Duncan,” I whispered.

  With no hesitation, he reached down, grabbed me by the thighs, and picked me up. I wrapped my legs around him.

  “Squeeze tighter,” he groaned. “So tight.”

  He lined up his cock with my entrance and sunk deep into my wet heat, and without stopping to check for anything, he began to fuck me hard against the shower wall. My screams were mostly muffled by him biting my lips. His bites extended to my shoulder, the top of my breasts, and neck.

  With each grunt and thrust, my body creamed and craved him more. I came once, twice, and then three times. I left my own teeth marks on the lower part of his neck because he was a fucking State Senator.

  “Duncan, come for me,” I whispered in his ear as he continued to pound in and out of my wet heat. “Come!”

  On a loud, hard growl, he released inside me, and the bliss was written all over his face. So much so that I pulled up and kissed him. No biting, just kissing him like, dare I say, he was mine.

  All of a sudden, the support of his arms was gone, and my feet hit the ground hard.

  “Duncan,” I exclaimed before I saw his face.

  He was in physical pain.

  “Wait, what’s wrong? What happened?” I asked.

  “NO! NO! NO!” he was chanting and pacing in the huge shower. “NO! NO! NO!”

  “Duncan,” I called before stepping in front of him. “What—”

  I never got to finish the sentence because he backed the fuck out and yelled at me.

  “NO! NO! NO!” He was hysterical. “GET OUT! NO! NO!”

  “What?” I remained paralyzed by the turn of events.

  His cum was literally dripping from my vagina, and he was yelling at me and kicking me out.

  “GET OUT!” he screamed, with wild eyes. “GET OUT!”

  My heart, head, and stomach began to ache at the same time. My ass felt hot, as if I’d been chastised or something, but him yelling at me and being hysterical. What in the fuck happened?

  In jolted and uncoordinated moves, I turned, left the shower, threw on my clothes, and left. He was still pacing and yelling, NO. I texted Bernie to let Trent know something was going on with Duncan, and he may need a man’s assistance.

  She called me, but I ignored the phone and put it in my bag, to be forgotten for the rest of the day, week, or fucking month. I no longer cared.

  * * *

  Three days later, Bernie and Junior came rolling up on me at my hair appointment in Largo. That shit was not fair. She knew my stylist and could stalk me.

  “I’ve been trying to get in contact with you for three fucking days.” Bernie was in full D.C. mode.

  I swear, you can take the chick out of the ghetto, but fuck with her, and she will show you ghetto.

  “Will you calm your ass down?” I hissed back at her, with all the patrons looking at us, contemplating if they should go for their phones to record the brawl.

  Junior ran to me. “Godmommy Portia.”

  “Hey babe, what’s up?” I put him on my lap. “Mommy still being a pain in the butt?”

  The last part I whispered, and the bitch pinched me, so I guess my voice wasn’t that low.

  “You’ve been avoiding me,” Bernie hissed and plopped down in the empty seat next to me, as the stylist put rollers in my hair.

  “I just didn’t have anything to say,” I clarified.

  “No. Portia always has something to say, and I had to track your ass down to talk after you sent that cryptic ass text.” Bernie was about to get going again. “Girllll.”

  “Bernie, I’m fine. Just doing me, okay,” I said in a calm voice.

  “You tell that to your men or people that believe that shit. I know you, Portia Lane. I know you, and I know you’re feeling some kind of way, and you need to discuss it, before you let shit get out of hand.”

  I sighed. Because she did know me, but I also didn’t really want to talk about it. What happened, happened, and I was doing me. What was so hard about that? Yeah, I hadn’t slept a fucking wink, and I missed him, but it was just fucking, and we had only known each other for a couple weeks. We fucked twice, or two days for a few times. Shit, I don’t fucking know, but that’s the point. It’s too damn early to have feelings that matter. I knew this.

  “You fell for him,” Bernie stated, and just like the friend she is, it wasn’t a gloat or even an, “I told you so.” It was a statement of fact.

  “Yeah,” I replied, just as plain, and pulled Junior into me more.

  The sweet boy he is, he wrapped his little arms around my neck, and I began to cry, right there in the fucking salon. My stylist abandoned me and let my best friend and godson console me.

  “No tears, Godmommy.” Junior wiped my face. “No tears, mkay.”

  That alone had me crying more. The unadulterated comfort of a child. My heart felt as if it had been hit by a truck, then backed up on for good measure. It was heavy, and it hurt.

  But why?

  I found myself asking this out loud to no one in particular, but since Bernie was there, she replied.

  “Why?” She sighed and sat back in her chair, after letting me go. “Why is because he’s a loveable guy who is obsessed with you and you alone. How do you not fall for that guy? Hence Trent. I became obsessed, and we fell in love with each other. It’s that simple. There is no formula, hoax, or voodoo. Just love, and Portia, it comes when we least expect it.”

  I heard that so many times, but I never really paid much attention to the claims. There was always a saying or old wives’ tale, and there were always exceptions to the rules.

  “Let’s go to Jaspers when you finish.” Bernie patted my thigh and took Junior from me. “We’ll be back in an hour, okay. Don’t leave,” she declared.

  “I won’t.”

  Once I was finished, we ate good, chatted, and laughed. Just what the doctor ordered. I needed to sit back and relax. Not once did she mention Duncan, and I loved her for it. That is what friends are for.

  Then as we were parting ways, she secured Junior’s sleeping body in the car and smacked me with the pink elephant that we refused to discuss.

  “He’s worried sick about you,” Bernie said. “I told him you needed time, and you would be fine. He said he had a meltdown, which is something that happens. Not often, but it does happen.”

  She was saying something, but I don’t think I
wanted to know.

  “You’re on birth control, right?” she asked.

  “Did he ask you to ask me that?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “Even if he did, I wouldn’t tell him,” she replied. “I just wanted to know for myself.”

  “Yes.” I nodded and looked around the almost vacant parking lot. “I knew he freaked out about not using a condom.”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “He’s broken up about it and thinks you’ll never talk to him again. Girl, he’s worried you’re going to the media to share what you witnessed. But I think he has people putting shit like that in his ear. Trent’s meeting with those folks tomorrow to set the record straight.”

  Damn.

  I just wanted to crawl away and hide, but I guess I had done that for three days now. It was time to put on my big girl panties and deal with shit.

  “I’ll meet with them, too. Where is this meeting taking place?” I asked.

  “His office. I’ll have Trent reach out to you with the details.”

  “Thanks, girl.” I gave her a hug.

  “You have and would do the same for me,” she replied. “Even kicked me out your house, just so I could go deal with the devil himself.”

  I laughed at the memory of a crazed Bernie when Trent was trying to win her over, and she was not having it at all.

  “Get my godson home.” I tapped the hood of her car and went to my own.

  The next day, to say that I was not anxious or even remotely nervous would have been a lie. I was all of the above. Trent, once again, got me in the Capitol, and I made my way to Duncan’s chambers. He still didn’t have a secretary, so I walked right in and heard several men’s voices. Some were raised.

  “She could be selling the story right fucking now,” a man with a high voice said.

  It was unfamiliar but I didn’t like his words, so I burst into the office. “I am not selling any-fucking-thing, for your information.”

  All heads turned to me, and the one that breaks my resolve is that damn Duncan. He literally looked as if he hadn’t slept since I last saw him. His hair was sticking straight up, and he didn’t like that.

  “Portia,” he gasped as he stood up. A man on his left held his arm to keep him from moving, but he jerked away and headed toward me.