Page 55 of Punishing Penelope
I love listening to his labored breaths. He wants a show? Fine, I’ll give him one hell of a show.
Summoning my inner stripper, recalling the private pole dancing lessons I took a few years back when I was living in a backwater town in the Midwest with little else to do. I give the same treatment to the ruined blouse as I did to the jacket, then the bra. Spinning, I push against him and sink to a crouch while I undo my skirt buttons and zipper.
When his cock pushes between my breasts, I press tighter against him and sink down farther, then lick his shaft on the way up. Letting my skirt drop and bunch around my feet, I step out of it, remaining with my legs apart. I move in closer and take his lower lip between my teeth while I stroke down his chest until I find the hem of his t-shirt. Sniffing, I smell his scent of cinnamon and cedarwood, spicy, with an undertone that’s purely deliciously him, like he always used to smell. I drag the shirt off him, then swing it over my head and throw it into a far corner of the bedroom.
God, he’s hot. His eyes are a steely blue, and his squared jaw is clenched in a grim expression that sends thrilling tingles to my core. His chest is hairless, mouthwateringly defined, and his stomach ends in a perfect V that meets with his hips. I want to feel his weight on top of me, his demands, and have his full attention.
I miss some music, but there are always songs in my head, and right now, I move to the rhythm of Joe Cocker and his sensuous You Can Leave Your Hat On.
Peter teases his knuckles along the contour of my breast, making a shiver run down my spine and my nipples harden. He continues down my hip, then slides between my panties and my skin.
I shiver and grow hot, yearning for more, needing him between my legs. Now. Hand. Mouth. Cock. All he can give and more.
“Leave the garter.” His voice is thick, different, an edge of danger to it. Spicy and thrilling, like his scent, like his whole persona. “It’s sexy. You will always wear one… for me.”
I spin around, hook my thumbs in the sides of my panties, then bend over and slide them down my legs, giving him a full view of my offerings.
“Oh, you bad girl.” He slaps me, then strokes along my soaked slit, too light for my desperate pussy, then slaps me again. “Get on the bed. You’ve stalled this long enough.”
Turning back around, I raise my eyebrows. “Thought you wanted a show?”
“I want everything.” He grabs my throat and pushes me toward the bed. “Now.”
The jitters in my belly spike. Yes, please! I back up onto the bed and lie down, spreading my arms and legs.
“I’ll give you everything, Peter.”
He smiles as he straddles me and fastens the wrist cuffs.
“I know.”
His sardonic smile shoots a bolt of arousal through me, hitting between my legs, heavy, heady, and primal. I gasp and buck up. He leans in and catches my lower lip between his teeth, biting down on the verge of being too hard. Kissing me forcefully, his hand finds my pussy and strokes my slit, teasing my clit, making me buck again and clench air.
“I want you,” I whisper, holding his gaze as he frees my mouth.
“I know.”
“Do you want me?”
“I do.”
I wiggle my hips, rubbing against the underside of his balls through his jeans.
“How bad?”
“More than I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything in my life. I’ve breathed you, drunk you, eaten you, kept you forever… here.” He sits up and presses his fist to his heart. “It was always you, Penelope. Always.”
My chest feels like it bursts open, and I give in… fully. If there was any resistance left, it’s gone.
He holds my gaze a few moments longer, and I’m sure he sees my heart on my sleeve—for him. His eyes never leaving mine, he wraps the cuffs around my ankles and closes them, then yanks a little. He picks something up from the bed, causing my pulse to spike. I don’t know exactly what he’ll do, even though I have a general idea, and that insecurity feels like the breath of fresh air after being locked inside way too long. I need this. I’ve always been in control. Every aspect of my life, every moment has been carefully planned so I wouldn’t break down.
He frees me of my own demands.
“I love how you glow. You don’t even know what I’m planning, yet you still look like you can’t get enough.” He raises his hand and drags the smooth ends of a flogger up my leg, then brushes them over my pussy. Kneeling between my legs, he continues up to stroke across my breasts.
“Get on with it.” My voice is raspy, different.
He tsks. “Not your decision.” Flicking his wrist, the soft leather isn’t so soft anymore when it lands on my nipples.