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Vixen, my cat, circled my legs. I should feel good that she was there to comfort me, but she wasn’t the think-of-others sort. No, she was just hungry.
“You’re going to have to wait,” I told her. “I’m not done wallowing yet.”
I grabbed the milk from the fridge, sniffed it, then groaned. It was bad. Going to the sink, I poured the last of it down the drain, turning on the faucet to let the water wash it away. After tossing the container in the recycling, I grabbed the vanilla ice cream from the freezer, scooped some into my coffee, stirred it in and went to take a shower. With my coffee.
Besides the wallowing, I’d thought about Landon’s mouth on mine, his hand on my breast, the way my nipple hardene
d instantly beneath his fingers. Jed’s finger as it slowly fucked me from behind, the feel of his cock in my tight grip. God, the way he’d come, thick ropes of his pleasure had coated my skin. It still did—Landon’s too—a sticky and physical reminder of what we’d done.
Both of them had discovered that I’d been embarrassingly wet for them—and that had all been from verbal foreplay. I’d probably pumped up their male egos by how quickly I’d come for them, not once but twice.
It had been good. Really good. God, I’d been so blissed out there for a minute I’d have let them bend me over the desk and fuck me. Even now, mortified, it was a steamy thought.
With one of Landon’s big hands on my back, holding me pressed against the hard surface, my ass lifted as he pushed up my skirt and lowered my panties just enough so one of them could stick his dick—definitely a big slab of beef—in me. Fucking me hard, deep. Maybe he’d even grab hold of my bun and pull my head back, hold me right where he wanted me. And when he was done, the other would have his turn.
I’d seen their cocks, felt them, stroked them. Watched cum shoot from them in powerful arcs. I wanted them deep inside me.
God, to be manhandled—in a very good, very delicious and naughty way—had me squirming now. I had a feeling both Landon and Jed would be possessive, dominant lovers. Yet with all that size, all that intensity they exuded, they had been remarkably gentle. Protective. Eager to make me theirs. A dichotomy I couldn’t fixate on. Couldn’t do anything more than think about.
And that’s all it—the strange, powerful thing between us—could ever be. A thought. Those I could have since they didn’t cost anything. They were free. Mine. Secret. And as for what Landon Duke looked like, that was no longer a secret and I could steer clear. Hide behind an end cap at the grocery store, never go into Cassidy’s again to see Jed.
After gulping half the mug of coffee in one go, I turned the shower on and waited for the water to warm up. With the hot water heater being small and old, I took a Navy shower—as my aunt had called it—and was always in and out in record time, even with washing my long hair.
While I hadn’t been the one to drive drunk and hit his parents, injuring them so they were both in the hospital for over a month before finally recovering enough to recuperate at home, I knew none of the Dukes would want anything to do with me. They no doubt hated my dad, but Don Leary was dead. They should hate me too, just by being his daughter, by being the reason he’d gotten in the car in the first place. And now I was back in Raines and Landon knew it. I was sure he’d tell the rest of the Dukes; they’d all surely know about me soon enough. I was The Reminder.
What my father had done… god. I felt sick thinking about it now. It had taken me years to realize normal fathers weren’t like him. That other kids’ dads were sober all the time and didn’t drink away the food budget. Their dad didn’t forget to pick them up from school because he was sleeping one off.
With Aunt Clara in California, I’d had a stable home. Food on the table. Hugs. Knew what it was supposed to be like, but it hadn’t been easy. She was a school teacher and her salary covered the basics but not much else. I’d worked in high school, too busy working to help pay the bills for dating or prom. I’d received some scholarship money for college, but I’d still had to work full-time as I went, meaning it took me six years to finish instead of four.
I stepped into the tub, slid the curtain closed, let the hot water wash away the sleep. There was no use thinking a shower would wash away the guilt. The embarrassment of what I’d done the night before was simply too great. No wonder Ava had recognized him when we’d gone to the bar. Landon Duke wasn’t Mr. Big, a stripper.
I scrubbed myself with soap using more vigor than needed.
Duke, a stripper. Ha!
He was a champion rodeo rider dubbed Sir Loin of Beef by the media not only because he was a gorgeous hunk of man-meat, but also because the Duke family ran the largest cattle ranch in northwest Montana. And because his last name was Duke and, like nobility, he was called Sir.
I knew all of this, yet I hadn’t followed him, hadn’t kept up with what he looked like. It had been too painful to even look at him—at any of them—online. I just knew they were out there, living their lives. Hating my father. Hating me. It had been painful enough to live with the guilt. I didn’t need to see them or their lives on social media.
I spun about, got my hair wet as I grabbed the shampoo. I’d been back in town six months and hadn’t seen him. I could avoid him for the rest of my life. It was doable. Work kept me busy enough. Like today, I’d meet with the contractor for an estimate on fixing the leaking roof, then I’d go to work where, unless he planned on checking into the hotel where I manned the registration desk, he wasn’t going to show up.
While Landon Duke and his friend had given me the best orgasms of my life, he hadn’t known who I was. Neither had. Hadn’t know I was Kaitlyn Leary any more than I’d realized he was a Duke. I could only imagine what he would think of me when he learned the truth. No, I knew. He’d hate me. I had no doubt. And since he and Jed were close enough to share a woman, he’d feel the exact same way.
7
DUKE
I pulled my truck up in front of the house, turned off the ignition. Glancing out the window, I took in the small Arts and Crafts two-story. When my assistant gave me the address of a potential new job—a remodel starting with a new roof—I’d noticed the street name. I knew Palmer Road, but hadn’t realized it was this house.
“Fuck,” I muttered. Wearily, I wiped my hand over my face, grabbed my clipboard from the passenger seat.
I’d barely slept, thinking of Kaitlyn. Of the way she’d been so responsive, so soft and perfect between me and Jed. It had been incredible watching her go from eager yet tentative to wild and passionate. Besides biting her lip to keep from crying out too loudly, she’d been uninhibited, giving herself to us completely. Beautifully.
And that had been in Jed’s office. I got hard, sitting in my fucking truck, thinking of how she’d have been if we’d gotten her somewhere a little more private. Like in my bed. Jed’s. Or hers. Whichever one had been the closest.
The scent of her pussy had clung to my fingers, hell, my whole hand, which had only made my balls ache to be deep inside of her, to have her beneath me. Eventually, having one of us in her pussy, the other in her ass so she was between us. Instead of that perfect fantasy, when I’d gotten home, I’d only had my hand to ease my need, blowing my load solo instead of in that snug channel. I knew how her wet heat squeezed and pulsed around my fingers, how tight she was. How hot and dripping with need she’d be surrounding my dick.
The connection—while she’d been a little skittish at first—had been real. The chemistry had been explosive and we’d only known her first name. Unlike her friend, Ava, we’d been into Kaitlyn from the start, from the first glimpse of her. I still was and I had no idea how to even find her. Jed and I had been fucking stumped as to why she’d bolted, what we’d done. How were we going to track her down because what we’d shared wasn’t enough? Not by a long shot. Jed had gone back to bartending and I’d gone home, nothing else to do at midnight to find her.
