Page 49 of Punishing Penelope
Except in his bed. Again with the tingling, just thinking about it.
We both want this, and halfway can be just as good as any other way. Maybe it’s the only way?
He rests his forehead against mine as our chests heave with ragged breaths.
“Call in sick,” I say.
“That’s not happening.”
“Will I see you again?”
“That is happening.”
My heart jolts with pure, unadulterated joy.
“Good.”
He kisses my forehead, glances at his watch, then leaves, taking my heart with him.
Touching my lips, a trickle of happiness and a need for more seep through me. I realize that was our first kiss in eight years. Back at his place, he didn’t kiss me. He’d really meant to punish me and nothing else when we got there.
Why is that thought so enticing?
Why do I want to do it again? The pain, the strain, all the emotions, then the care afterward—my utter and complete relaxation. It was as if the world and all its troubles disappeared for a little while.
But I want the kisses too.
During. After. Before.
Smiling, I lock the door. I won’t call in sick, either, but I’ll work from home. I’m exhausted but filled with energy. I have a secret folder, illegally obtained, to work through, an article to keep writing, and a fundraiser to plan.
Peter
Perhaps I feel like a little less of a daredevil today. For the first time, I have a reason to want to get home in one piece.
The Giordanna Miller case keeps gnawing on my mind. Despite my initial skepticism, I actually agree with everything Penelope said. There’s something fishy going on, and I already know I’ll help her. I won’t sully my badge, and I’ll never put my partners at risk, but if something smells rotten and I slip her a tip, my conscience will be clean as fucking snow. I will still serve and protect. Perhaps more than ever.
I thought she was the enemy, but I realized there are different ways to serve, and we both learned a lot tonight.
I learned I won’t live without Penelope Wilder another day of my life. I want everything that is her—her adventurous soul, her bright mind, her joy, her sorrows, her long legs around my hips as I pump her pussy and ass, her tears as I claim her throat again.
I didn’t even fuck her.
I hadn’t planned to touch her sexually.
We were doomed from the start when I took her home last night, and I can’t wait to get her to myself again.
Tonight.
About eight hours from now.
They’ll feel like an eternity.
When the radio crackles, me and my partner perk up.
Active shooter by a gas station, not two blocks from a high school. Officer under fire.
My exhaustion disappears, and we take off. The hours will pass pretty quickly after all.