Possessive Royal (Duke of Tudor #2) 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: 79
Estimated words: 75589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
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“Don’t play games with me, Victor,” Luxury snaps. “You haven’t called. You didn’t just drop by. I bet Jonah sent you a sneaky message, and now you want to come back?”

Brow furrowed in determination, I grit out, “That’s not entirely accurate, Luxury. You told me not to call.” I was simply giving you time to digest the truth.

“So what? Just stay out of my dreams, I mean, stay out of my, um, just leave me the hell alone,” Luxury stutters. She backs away, hoisting and lowering a glass countertop between us. I stalk toward her. “Victor.” Luxury raises a hand as I lift the partition.

She’s been thousands of miles away, so it’s my mission to rectify that. Although, I’m willing to give her an inch.

“As I said, I don’t want to see you anymore.”

She’s daft. In one sentence, Luxury reprimands me for not being there. In the other, the cheeky woman would rather I hadn’t returned.

“Lux, stop!” I chide. If we were alone, a spanking on that voluptuous arse would suffice.

Taking one more step back, Luxury hits her heel against the wall. With nowhere to go, Luxury’s glance leaves mine for a fraction of a second as she assesses the distance to the door leading to the alley. Realizing it’s useless to run, Lux’s shoulders square. She snaps, “Victor, I’m not afraid of you.”

“You do not fear me?” I chuckle softly. My knuckles trail her jawline. My senses pique. Her breathing hollows. “Are you sure you don’t fear me? Shall I give you reason to?”

“Too late! Why didn’t you introduce yourself on day one as a vile murderer?” Luxury shuns my touch, turning her head.

“Don’t bite your lip,” I murmur in her ear. “Those lips will not be subjected to pain unless I inflict it.”

She stops and gasps at how readily she just obeyed my command. My knee parts her legs, and I press myself fully into Luxury’s space. Now, there’s not an inch between us. My hard chest crushes her soft tits.

“Victor, where are the expensive flowers? The ostentatious gestures, huh?” She tries, all the while her swollen lips are a danger to both our sanities. She tucks those sexy lips into her mouth.

“I’m a relentless wanka. You know that. Expensive bullshite isn’t what my Little One covets. You missed me,” I whisper against Luxury’s neck, hands gliding up her ribs to cup her breasts. My cock’s massive and agonizingly hard, driving against the apex of her, taunted by the warmth of her covered cunt.

Luxury melts in my arms. Now, my knee is holding her pinned against the wall. I continue to plant soft kisses on her slender neck and jaw. Deftly, I hold Luxury higher as she molds against my manhood. Her lips blossom forth, ready for me to taste.

Bloody hell! I could have her right this moment, but a transient singing drunkenly passes by the door. The belting out carries through the single-pane glass windows. Our connection breaks as Luxury’s amber eyes fill with pain. Why did I listen to her? Why did I allow Luxury time when I know that she doesn’t know what she wants? Two months ago, she had told me never to call. I’d settled with allowing Luxury to call me when she was ready.

If I had stayed . . .

“Let’s go, Victor.” Her tone is resolute as she shrugs. “My father sent for you. He wants answers.”

One dreadfully silent walk later, we arrive at the Whitsons.

“Dad? Dad!” Luxury hastily unshoulders her cross-body purse and places it onto the coat hook. “Dad?” she calls again and then mumbles about his current condition, scrubbing a hand over her face.

“Luxury, what’s with all the hooting and hollering?” Jonah asks, his voice traveling down the hallway. Using a wood cane, the old chap shuffles into the sitting room.

“Victor’s here. At your request.”

“Oh, Luxury, stop it.” Whitson waves her off and then glares at me. “Though I owe my life to you, I know what you are, Mr. Tudor. You’re a far cry from the type of man my wife and I prayed for—”

“Dad, get to the point, please.” Luxury’s arms cross over her chest. I frown. She consoles herself when I’m the one who is always supposed to console her.

“He’s here to give us answers.”

“What answers?” she asks.

“I heard the two of you in my hospital room as I went in and out of consciousness.”

Luxury’s cheeks redden as the intimacy of our discussion returns to mind. She stammers, “You were eavesdropping? I mean . . .”

“Victor, you’ve an idea of who murdered my wife.” Dr. Whitson’s eyes flicker away from mine as he continues, “I would like you to confirm if I’m a paranoid old man or . . .” Jonah’s voice trails off. He looks toward his daughter and adds, “Luxury, please give us a moment.”


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