last hour. You could say a lot of things about Duke, but he certainly still had a very healthy libido.
Her suspicions proved justified that night in bed. Exhilarated by his own demonstration of power and control over Minnie, Duke’s eyes were alive with excitement at the prospect of screwing Caroline. Availing himself of her exquisitely ripe, young body would be the perfect end to what had been a thoroughly enjoyable and arousing evening.
He and Minnie had kept separate bedrooms for the last twenty-odd years, and his dark-wood-paneled room no longer bore any traces of his wife. Duke had had the exquisite parquet flooring smothered in the ankle-deep cream carpet he so loved, and all the antique furniture replaced with so much chrome and glass that the original walls looked embarrassed and out of place. He loved the modernity of the furniture, and not just because Minnie hated it. It made him feel young somehow. And the thick carpet beneath his bare feet felt wonderfully luxurious to the boy who had grown up running barefoot on the cold, rough wooden floors of a Brooklyn tenement building.
Duke reclined on the enormous, laminated plastic bed, draped in rich purple velvet covers and purple silk pillows fit for a debauched Roman emperor. He felt his cock turn to iron as he watched Caroline start to strip for him.
With one graceful movement she released the clasp at her neck, and five hundred dollars’ worth of Pucci silk slithered to the floor. Staring at her full, high breasts, the pale pink nipples flushing a deeper red with lust, her slender, almost breakable legs looking even longer in those black stilettos, Duke knew he had never wanted a woman more. She gazed wantonly back at him, the dampness from her pussy beginning to show through her minuscule sheer pink panties, and bent down to remove her shoes.
“No. Leave them on.” His voice was rough and brutal with longing, all of the faux affection from the dinner table gone. “Come here.”
Hanging her head submissively, she approached the bed and, climbing up onto it, knelt in front of Duke, awaiting instructions. She was like a doll, he thought joyously; he could do anything he wanted to her, anything. He knew she was only interested in his money, of course. But what did that matter? This was fifty times better than picking up a hooker down on Sunset.
Caroline might be a gold digger, but she still had social class, something that had always eluded Duke, for all his money and power. That cut-glass English accent and her grand titled friends made her infinitely more exciting in his eyes. He loved to watch her playing the part, acting like the little lady of the manor, and knowing that whenever he snapped his fingers he could have her, naked, compliant, ready to cater to his every whim. His money enabled him to control her, to own her. Mikey was wrong. You
could
own a woman. And Caroline was all his.
“Suck my cock,” he commanded, lying back against the pillows as the small blond head bobbed up and down in his lap. He had wanted to fuck her tonight, but it had been a long, long day, and the moment he felt her expert tongue rolling itself around his erection, flickering teasingly just beneath its head, he knew he had to come now.
Gripping her skull with his left hand, he forced her head down farther until his dick was touching the back of her throat. Instinctively, she struggled, retching and fighting for breath, legs flailing grotesquely, still in her tight black shoes. The sight was too much for Duke, who cried out as he came, clamping her head to his cock so that every drop of his semen poured straight down her throat before he released her.
Caroline pushed her tangled hair back from her face, gasping for air, and wiped the sweat and saliva from her face. She knew she must look like a first-class whore, and the thought aroused her. Duke was old enough to be her father, if not her grandfather, and she’d be lying if she said that physical attraction was her
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley