Page 59 of Punishing Penelope
“Yes, hon, I know.”
‘Hon’ still makes me smile. We’ve come a long way from the less loving words we called each other a mere few months back.
“I’ll order something to eat. I’m too beat to cook.”
She looks up, looking less distracted, a frown on her face. “Rough day?”
I push aside a pile of papers and fall on the couch next to her. “Very.”
Penelope snuggles in next to me, and I wrap an arm around her, pulling her even closer.
“Did you catch the bad guy?”
“Yup.”
“Good.”
“Apparently, my work isn’t quite over.”
“What? Why?”
“You’ve been a bad girl… a very bad girl.”
“Peter!” She stiffens.
Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pull her up and over my lap, her silky pajama-clad butt on display.
“No eating, undressed, no garter on for your man.” I tsk, then pull down her pants below her butt and smack her delicious tight ass. Penelope squeals and squirms, but she also laughs. I love how she loves our games. “And you know what I do to bad girls.”
Our eyes meet, and she has that look of mischief I can never resist. She gasps when I stand and throw her over my shoulder. Dinner will have to wait. I have a woman to punish, fuck, make love to, honor, and care for—for the rest of our lives.
Penelope
After a round of thorough spanks, rough fucking, sweet lovemaking, and heavenly cuddling, Peter prepares a bath for me, then orders a round of takeout. I love how he cares for me, how I always seem to be at the forefront of his mind. He surely is in mine.
As often as we can get away, we make up for lost time, building new memories. It could be something simple like new restaurants, concerts, traveling, surfing or something more demanding like mountain climbing or parachuting.
This is our life together, and there is finally real life. My little sister will always be with me. I can’t change the past, which is what I tried to do for all those years, and I can’t keep pulling my energy from anger. I can change the future, and I think Savannah would have wanted me to be happy.
One afternoon, I get the phone call of all phone calls, plunging me back to our dark past, with all the drama and the pain we lived through.
“Penelope?” The terse whisper sends goosebumps racing down my arms.
Sandra Hooper’s desperation comes through loud and clear, even in that one word.
Hooper because, yeah, they got hitched. No, I didn’t attend. I couldn’t be so hypocritical to celebrate the union of two people so toxic together.
We had a polite exchange recently when I contacted her for Gio’s fundraiser gala, but before that, we didn’t talk for years. We all fell apart. I know why I froze, why I couldn’t be around any of them anymore, with the pain and the flashbacks, and with how all of their faces reminded me acutely of Savannah’s death. I don’t know why the rest of the gang split. Maybe they were as shaken? Or maybe it was just life and bound to happen?
Lexi and I still send each other the occasional postcard. It’s our thing. We compete in finding the tackiest, most touristy pictures. Even better if the shape is weird.
Now, Sandra Hooper calls me, clearly desperate. It’s been so long since we were close, but I immediately twitch into action mode. Whatever she needs, I’m there for it.
“Sandra? What’s up?”
I’m already throwing a few things in a bag and stepping into my shoes. My instinct tells me I’ll be out the front door in moments.
“It’s Cole. He’s drunk. He’s throwing things around. The kids… I need help.”