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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“Don’t say no.” He scoots down to the ground, lips brushing over my clit. “Little One . . .”

“No, Vic.”

“I. Said. Don’t. Say. No.”

There’s insistence. Desperation.

Okay, maybe the latter’s wishful thinking, as I’ve fallen for the dubious doctor.

One finger fills the lonely space left between my thighs, and the second circles my clit as he dips his tongue over my desire. “Look. Drenching wet. Did you get yourself off, remembering my cum all over your body, Luxury?”

I lean on my elbows, intoxicated by his accent.

Victor’s tongue lightly taps my clit as contractions shudder deep inside of me, pulsing around his fingers. “Little One, you can’t say no. You simply can’t deny yourself the ecstasy that I wish to give you.”

But it still hurts. The fracture he caused in my already shattered heart.

My lips tense. Great, I’m exhibiting bipolar tendencies. I quietly breathe out one single word. “Why?”

Victor groans into my sex, pressing his lips over it like kissing a lover farewell, then he’s towering over me on his feet. I grip a decorative pillow, sit up, and shield myself. In two long strides, Victor’s sitting wide legged on the window seat. While he pinches the bridge of his nose, I fidget with one end of the pillow.

“Graham.”

“Is this honestly about your kid brother?” The sharp look poaches my oxygen. After a beat, I reply, “I’m listening.”

“Graham’s made a bit of money in the tech field. Women are motivated to use him.”

My left arm drops over the right. “Don’t give me that you’re saving him from money-hungry women, crap. He’s kind—”

“Too kind.”

I agree. Both brothers could take a page from each other’s playbooks. “If Graham’s lacking in the assertive department, you’re a barbarian.”

“Quite frankly, Luxury, that’s the role I must portray.”

Astonished by the fire in his voice, I ask, “Why?”

“It is what it is.”

“Listen, we’re literally a little over fourteen days into this, Vic.” Eighteen, but who’s counting? “If you were any other man, I’d reserve judgment. I-I’d honestly feel like a grade-A clinger for prying. Still, you’ve challenged me in a way no other person has.” Although my voice creeps to a close, my aura begs me to acquaint myself with the man who knows me. “Don’t tell me your friggen life story but open up a little for the love of all things holy!”

“I bloody just explained it to you, Little One.”

I pop up from the bed, allowing his eyes to run rampant over every inch of my naked body as I stalk toward the discarded bouquet.

In retrospect, my treatment of said flowers is sacrilege. Don’t do it, Lux. Don’t give them back. They’re yours.

“When two people become intimate, and one of them is a woman, she gives a little bit of herself to that person,” her lover. “You are a master at sex. The physicality of it is probably unmatched. Probably the best I’ll ever have.” Without a shadow of a doubt, Luxxie. I hand the flowers to him. “But if we continue at our current rate, and the exchange of energy between us is still one-sided, I lose. Vic, I lose. Not you. You can take, and mold, and break me. But I won’t survive.”

“Little One,” he groans.

“Oh, hell no, I’ve had it up to here with your responses.” I lift my hand then reply, “Fuck that. Give me a moment. Clearly, I’m not speakin’ your language.”

I climb onto my bed, standing tall. Leveling my hand sharply, I nod. “I’ve had it up to here with you.”

Victor places the flowers onto the cushion beside him. My defiant façade glares how I’m not a vessel for his pleasure, yet the walls of my pussy create an explosion. Squeezing. Releasing juices. Constricting. Raining nectar.

Victor is before me. I haven’t a moment to jump down onto the wooden floor. Aqua blues outline the soft coils of my sex. As if he has eagle eyes, he’s assessing my angry valley like the furious lines on a seismogram.

Victor steadies his hands on my hips.

“I’m not fucking you tonight,” I bite out. Since he’s so damn tall, he’s almost at eye level with me.

I search out a way down from the bed, away from him. Victor’s fingers bite into my skin, not enough to draw blood, but he holds me firmly. His calculating touch stops the sultry impulses inside me, stalling my hungry urge to jump on him and satisfy the agony building in my core.

“Since my brother was born, I’ve protected him, Lux. You yearn for the senses to be involved while having a chin-wagging, well here you go, Little One.”

As he speaks, a miracle unfolds. I’ve said that Victor’s presence surrounds me. Pours into me. Overcomes me. Consumes me to the last drop. But we transcend to another level as I listen to the low, drone of his voice.

“I taught Graham to ride a bike. The day was gloomy, fog so bloody thick. The little bugger wouldn’t take no for an answer. You’ve seen the wanka. Chipper, highly convincing.”


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