Deviant Royal (Duke of Tudor #1) Read Online Amarie Avant

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Tags Authors: Series: Duke of Tudor Series by Amarie Avant
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Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
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My breath’s ragged, and I’m no longer frustrated by Luxury’s disobeying me. I’ve obtained my goal. That fuck face again.

Orgasm number four seems to have Luxury in one of those drunken states. Smooth legs tremble as if my dick was her first shot of a narcotic. She screams, “Yes, yess. Victorrrrr.”

Her legs rest on my shoulders. I flip her effortlessly, enthralled by her lovely arse, and then again, prepared to take it slow for the long haul.

“Please.” Lux appeals to some shred of humanity she believes I still have. “I can’t. Victor, I . . . can’t keep cumming!” Luxury’s voice is sweeter than honey, softer than silk as she begs, “Cum, please, Vic!”

She grabs my arse cheeks, seeking control.

It’s easy to ignore her pleas. Between each plow to her cervix, I grunt out, “You called me a fucking beast. I’m obligated to kill this little cunt, Luxury.”

“Oh! Gahhh . . . you’re killing me. You’re killing me,” she gasps as I piston through her.

Luxury’s voice becomes raw.

The sound almost begs my cock to sink between her lovely lips. I taste her, and she pants against my mouth, breath teasing my jaw.

I find that exact second, the exact time to strike. With misty eyes, Lux cries out, and at that very moment, my cum explodes inside the sheath of Luxury’s body. Damn.

My body instantly weakens, and I fall to the side of her flushed body.

“Don’t,” she murmurs as I start off the bed.

“Never,” I tell her, allowing one of my legs to fall over the side of my Little One’s hips, so I don’t crush her body with my weight.

Never? Vic, that was rather stately. When sex is involved, my nobility never comes into play, and rarely do I act with the best of intentions either. Tonight though, I hold the gorgeous girl.

The gentle rise and fall of Luxury’s breast awakens me. The last time I slept with a woman, I was closer to Luxury’s age. Usually, I’m considering my next mission, having sworn off shagging until I’ve desecrated my current target. X-member always comes first, even before being a royal duke.

With Miss Whitson, I’ve dismantled every rule. I wasn’t even supposed to fuck her tonight. She’d beg, and I’d train her smart, defiant mouth. Now, with three a.m. behind me, I untwine myself from Luxury’s arms and settle into a suede chaise lounge across from her. I watch her sleep, the air peppered with our sex. She’s peaceful, for a while, then she’s not.

At her whimpering, I groan under my breath, “What have you endured, Little One?”

I haven’t watched a woman sleep in ages. I wonder if I should wake Luxury from the torturous nightmare. As she frets, I run a heavy hand over the back of my neck, intoxicated by the thought of knowing her secrets. Time passes, and her sobbing quiets to nothing.

First light creeps in, skimming Luxury’s skin. The otherworldly glow washes over her.

Tiny.

Curvaceous.

Vulnerable.

The sun seems to scatter those radiant-freckled diamonds, compelling the man in me. Not the killer. Not the one who shuns the requirements of a duke. But a mere man beguiled.

That’s just it. I’m not a bloody normal lad, though.

Firstly, I don’t murder on a whim. The desire to do so is too great. Secondly, I’ve my reasons not to spare a life.

But I spared Luxury from the modus operandi.

The wanker who breezes off after sex.

Since I’ve set my eyes on Luxury, I’ve ignored my inner demons, drawn to the freckled beauty. I could count every single one. Taste them. I find myself smiling at the unfeasible notion.

At this precise moment, I decide Whitson will not die on my watch. Killing Dr. Whitson would’ve been as easy as sniping him through an open window. Saving both Whistons’ lives after the requester has grown weary of waiting, now that’s a challenge I welcome.

10

LUXURY

Day Six

The man who reinvented sex put me to sleep last night. Unfortunately, he didn’t chase away the nightmares. It didn’t really matter, though, when the dick was that good.

Now, one of Victor’s black button-ups floats over the plumpest bend in my thighs. I interlace each silk button. Maybe I’ll steal his shirt, have something to remember him by. Proof this was real.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask if he has another color since black embodies my father’s roses only. Additionally, the color adds a funk to my mood.

Lux, forget his clothing preferences and your desire to dream of this night eons from now. At least walk away knowing something a bit more tangible about the guy.

Where does he live? The Hotel Delacroix starts at two grand per night. Which I only know because Aliyah checked for her first anniversary with Tommy. But she only considered the junior suites. Which begs the question, how much is this place?

With my luck, Victor lives in Hudson Yards with his doting wife and a toddler who speaks three foreign languages.


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