Duke Depp Naked Novels & Stories

Duke Andrew couldn't fulfill his promise to Ariana, or protect the Sigmund Kingdom as the Duke of Alison anymore. “Your … Grace ….” When Duke Andrew heard James' voice, the light returned to those dull eyes as he tried to look up, though his body was no longer moving. Not far from his body, James was trying to crawl toward him. Every time the man advanced, a stream of blood shot out of one of his missing arms. James crawled at a very slow pace until he finally arrived in front of the Duke. “Please forgive me … Because I can't protect you or help you to keep your promise with Lady Aria.”

Someplace they could hold her until the proper authorities arrived to deal with a murderer. “Darlin’, look at me.” With a reluctant groan, Caitlyn opened her eyes as best she could, then gasped in horror. Duke stood above her, now shirtless, unfastening the waist of his pants. Across his beautifully sculpted chest, a huge black bruise bloomed, doubtless the residual of the bullet he’d taken when Richards had fired at close range into his Kevlar vest. Bolting upright, she pulled her knees under her and crawled to the side of the bed nearest him. “Let me see,” she ordered, resting her hands gently on his shoulders as he bent at the waist, undressing the rest of the way. “Duke, let me—.”

She’s naked. Completely fucking naked.

“Yes. It is indeed. The naked man you met beside the lake last week” “You’re…you’re the Duke?” “Cedric Blackwood, Seventh Duke of Springbrook.” He gazed at her vivid, passionate face. “But from the look on your face, I suppose you’re probably wanting to call me “that asshole”.” “That’s why you were swimming,” she said, ignoring him. “You weren’t trespassing.” “No.” He shook his head slowly. “I was out for a run and decided to cool off in the lake. My lake.”

I’m already under the shower, the hot water flowing down my shoulders. He looks at me. He sees me naked. But nothing. No reaction. Not a beat of desire. He comes in anyway. He helps me lather my body, caressing me gently. But he doesn’t even get hard. His movements are empty. His gaze is elsewhere. I turn slowly, my expression hard. — You don’t want me anymore, I whisper. Even that, you can’t give me? He lowers his eyes. Ashamed. Lost. — I’m sorry.

Duke Alaric. Tall. Broad. Brooding like it paid his bills. He wore black. Of course he did. A cloak thrown over one shoulder, embroidered with his crest. Boots that looked expensive enough to pay off a small noble’s debt. And that face? Disrespectfully beautiful and handsome. Like Henry Cavill or maybe a little of Gong Yoo. Jawline sharp enough to make a nun rethink vows. Hair tousled like he just fought a war or maybe a pillow. Eyes?

A voice said, jolting me out of my thoughts and I twirled around to find Duke gazing down at me with amused eyes. "Huh?" I asked, not knowing what to say. To say I was lacking what to reply to him would be a very big lie from me, I was rather struck by how handsome he looked. He was putting on a beige color shirt that rolled up to his elbows, his eyebrows were shaved as if he was a girl. His black long pants looked extremely good on him and judging from the look of it, it must be worth millions. His shirt had two buttons undone and muscles flexed under his shirt. He looked like some Greek god and at that moment I knew I couldn't be more proud of him. "Done ogling me?" He said, his lips twitc

Duke takes the mostly empty plate from Cori's good hand and nods at the food. "I don't need your help," she whisper shouts. Dressed in a pale green, flowery dress that accents her long legs and gorgeous skin, biker dude is no match for her. Duke's jeans, black T-shirt, large hunting knife on his left hip, and the gun on his right only add to the dangerous vibes he gives off. They don't affect Cori in the slightest. She prefers the sophisticated type and her nose turns up at his choice of attire. Duke would probably clean up nicely in a suit. It would need to be custom-made because no suit off the rack would fit him. However, I don't see him putting one on, and even dressed to the nines, I do

Only if he knew I came to end him. The sound of running water stopped, and moments later, Deuce emerged from the bathroom. He’d showered and was now dressed in black slacks and a crisp white shirt, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. Whiskey, probably. He always drank whiskey after sex. I forced myself to sit up, ignoring the protest of my abused muscles. I needed to appear normal, needed to play the role of the satisfied lover. Deuce’s dark eyes tracked my movement as he settled into the leather armchair near the window, one leg crossed over the other in a pose of casual dominance. Even relaxed, he radiated power, the kind that made other wolves drop their eyes and bare their throats in su