10. MALEFICENT
10
MALEFICENT
JACK
J ack couldn’t figure Penny out. What woman stopped a man in the middle of giving her a fucking orgasm? Granted, it had been a bold move, unexpected to him too. Taking his first taste of Penny’s sweet pussy wasn’t exactly what Jack had planned to do in between unpacking and playing his first round of cards. It definitely wasn’t something he’d thought would happen so soon after that weird conversation in the car when she’d announced they weren’t having any kind of sex on this trip or ever.
Sure, he’d known she was lying, more to herself than to him, when she’d said she only wanted his friendship. Every time Penny looked at him, the desire for more was written all over her face, in her body language. It was clear she hadn’t allowed herself sexual pleasure with a man in a long time, and he’d wanted to be the one to show her she needed it. Needed him.
So far, he was 0 for 2 on the scoreboard. He’d managed to get his hands on her twice, and both times, she’d thrown up the stop sign. Now his cock was still raging hard, and unfulfilled. Her intoxicating nectar was still on his tongue, and he had to somehow forget about that and chat up the stiffs for a few quid.
As he escorted her down the stairs and into the Great Hall, where several couches and settees were assembled, the looks of curiosity and outright lust that were leveled at her by other men were growing obvious. Problem number two. It was as though they could smell the arousal on her and were responding to the silent call of her pheromones.
Penny took a break from being angry with him to appreciate their surroundings. “I love every single thing about this castle. I can’t get over how beautiful it is,” she whispered so only he could hear.
“Neither can I,” he said gruffly, his eyes drawn to her upturned face.
If Penny noticed the stares, from him or anyone else, she didn’t mention it. She was too busy looking around at the sparkling chandeliers, baubles, and artwork throughout the room. Every table was decorated with symbols and foods of the harvest. The other guests in their finery and masks already had goblets in their hands as they stood in groups chatting or lounging on the couches.
“Where’s the dancing going to be? Think this is the ballroom?” Penny asked skeptically, looking at the couches as they passed through. Even if the cushiony pieces were pushed out of the way, there was still a large, flat, circular platform smack in the middle, and it didn’t look like it could be easily moved.
“Can’t say,” Jack replied curtly. He wasn’t going to go back to playing Nice Guy with her quite that fast.
“Mr. Valentine!”
They turned at the friendly voice. It was Simon FitzGerald dressed like a medieval lord, coming over to clap Jack on the back. Two older men followed, giving Penny a once-over and then turning back to him. Jack had met them before at fundraisers; neither had ever offered his foundation a cent, but they sure loved talking about his career wins and bragging that they’d “done a little boxing” in their day.
When the trio of men reached him and Penny, they immediately launched into a conversation about the current MMA champ’s retirement and who would take over the title next. Clarissa appeared, too, weaving through the guests and chatting. She was now in a Maleficent costume.
Jack and Penny exchanged a pointed glance. He’d read up on Sleeping Beauty and her story that week. Was it a coincidence that Clarissa would choose the costume of Briar Rose’s and Prince Philip’s sworn enemy?
“Is there a glass coffee table?” Penny whispered before Clarissa reached them.
“Didn’t notice one. Why?”
“Because there’s usually a scene in a movie where the catfight over the hot guy devolves into a physical tussle, and one of the women gets punched or kicked off the top-level balcony. There’s always a glass coffee table right underneath, and the loser of the fight crashes into it and dies. Just wondering which room has the table,” Penny explained, looking around.
Despite still being irritated and preoccupied by Penny’s stubbornness, Jack held in the sudden urge to laugh at the ridiculous image.
“Hm. So you think I’m hot? Wouldn’t have guessed that.” Penny twisted her lips. All it did was force his attention back to her mouth. “Anyway, if there is a fight over me, my money’s on you, angel.”
“Yeah, right. Angel. Now that we’re happily married and all, I need to come up with a name for you. You know, to make it look good. How about Rocky?” she asked, still keeping a wary eye on Clarissa.
“Do not blaspheme his name.”
“Okay, sorry. How about Drago? You give off more of that vibe, anyway. Tall. Freakishly strong and monosyllabic.”
“Monosyllabic?” he spluttered. The other men were glancing at them, and he fixed his face to maintain his usual demeanor.
“Stop mean mugging, Van Damme. I might be here to piss off your girlfriend but don’t forget you’re here to get that money, so try to look approachable. If that’s possible.”
That said, Jack looked on with surprise as Penny inserted herself into the men’s conversation. It would have made him jealous, her giving them her attention, if she hadn’t pulled him along with her to draw him into their circle. The skills she must have used to gain access to concert halls and rural homesteads alike were on display as she asked questions and listened attentively to their answers. She’d used that tactic on him, too, he realized, always deflecting attention from herself to focus on the other person.
It hadn’t dawned on him until that moment that that’s how she kept him at arm’s length. She gave just enough information but hid her inner thoughts and feelings.
Like him. Exactly like him.
Somehow, Penny’s eyes managed to stay open after fifteen minutes of a discussion about the future of shipping in the warming Arctic. One of the men seemed impressed to discover her father was a New York judge; he was a barrister who’d come from London specifically for this Samhain gathering.
“You do know about Samhain? It’s not your average commercialized Halloween,” the man said imperiously, dressed like Jafar from Aladdin. He looked fucking silly. “The roots go back thousands of years. And no one celebrates the feast like our host. And hostess.” Jafar nodded at Clarissa, who’d finally joined them.
Clarissa posed and linked her arm through Penny’s, gazing up at Jack with a seductive smirk on her black-painted lips.
“Penelope Valentine. Aren’t you a rose. I’ll bet our Jack took one look at you and plucked you right off the vine.” Clarissa’s eyes ran up and down Penny’s body with an audible purr.
“Something like that,” Jack responded coolly. “When a man knows he’s found the one, he doesn’t hesitate.”
He enjoyed the narrowing of Clarissa’s tilted green eyes even as Penny shot him a warning look.
“How did you meet?” Clarissa continued.
“I saw Penny performing on stage. She was so talented and beautiful. I thought, ‘That’s her. She’s the one.’ And when we met up for our first coffee date she was funny, smart, and kind. I knew I’d been right. One week later, I put a ring on her finger and told her she was mine.”
Penny’s eyes on him had softened. He even thought he detected a hint of moisture in their dark depths. Maybe it was a trick of the shimmering chandelier light or the glow of the hundreds of fragrant candles around the room. She turned her gaze from him and laughed lightly.
“Yes. That’s how it happened,” Penny affirmed.
“And what about you, princess? When did you fall for our hulking beast of a man?” Clarissa asked next, practically licking her lips as she stared down at the front of Jack’s trousers.
Jack frowned at her remark and her obvious flirtation, but Penny shrugged sweetly as if unconcerned at Clarissa’s boldness.
“The first time he pounded me into the mattress. It was glorious .”
Clarissa’s mouth dropped open, and then she spluttered a laugh while the men regarded Penny with increased interest. Jack’s entire body burned; he did indeed want to do exactly that to her.
“I’m kidding, of course. It was when…” Penny paused, not looking at him. “I heard music in my head when I thought about him. I hear it playing right now.”
Clarissa fell silent while the men exclaimed over her words. They could all have been phantoms, as far as Jack was concerned. Penny was the only person in the room with him. The only person in the world. He wanted to reach for her and hold her, spill his full heart out at her feet.
But she’d only been telling a story, he reasoned, to stop himself from grabbing her and taking her back upstairs. A damn good story that he wished with all his heart were true.
“You make a wonderful couple. So very sexy . Well done, Valentine. And how lucky we are that you’ve joined us. Share in our feasting on this special night.” Simon held Penny’s gaze a bit too long while his companions stared openly at Jack’s frame.
“Yes. The festival of Samhain. When the veil between the worlds opens, who knows what may come through?” Clarissa said, running her hand down Penny’s arm while looking into his eyes.
Now he was uncomfortable. Penny raised her eyebrows at him but didn’t remark on the odd comments or the touching.
Their hostess looked to their left. “Oh good, they’re bringing out the mead. We’ll have just a taste to whet our appetites before we light the fire.”
Clarissa raised her long, pale arm, the black sleeve sliding down to reveal the snake tattoos winding around her wrists, then disappearing into the fabric. She gestured to one of the masked servers, who brought over a golden tray with several pewter goblets. She gave one each to Jack and Penny.
“Have you had mead before, Penelope?” Simon asked, taking his own first sip.
“A few times, on castle tours.”
“Ugh, that stuff for tourists is atrocious,” Clarissa scoffed, making a face. “This is the real deal, fermented and prepared according to the old ways. Try it.”
Penny raised the cup to her face and smelled the liquid inside. She paused. “Well. Sláinte !” Then she took a cautious sip, then another. “Hm. Doesn’t seem poisoned.”
The others laughed hard at her “joke,” but Jack didn’t. He wasn’t so sure anymore that she’d been wrong about this risky gamble he’d lured her into.
Once they’d both had several swallows of the strong honey-based drink, spiced with cinnamon and some new earthy flavor Jack didn’t recognize, Clarissa said, “Let me show you around.”
She took them through a series of drawing rooms and galleries, hung with the typical tapestries and paintings. Typical, except on closer inspection, many of the scenes were of naked people frolicking and fucking.
Clarissa’s voice droned on, describing the history of the castle and how the FitzGerald family had been installed as landlords at the bidding of Queen Elizabeth Tudor herself in the 16 th century. After his arrival from England, the original FitzGerald had reportedly married a descendant of a Celtic high priest who’d held onto their traditions in secret. Their bloodline had followed those traditions ever since.
“Bollocks,” Jack murmured to Penny when Clarissa had been distracted by a servant. Between the strong mead and the incessant, repetitive beats of the erotic neo-Celtic music playing, his head was starting to feel off. “Prancing around with little braids in her hair and blue paint four times a year doesn’t make her a fucking Druid.”
“You need to start acting nice…nicer,” Penny responded. Her words were starting to slur. Her eyes held that shine again, but this time, Jack was sure it was from the sweet drink in her hand rather than his sweet words. “Better get that money.” Then she giggled.
Uh-oh.
He’d seen her drink wine before, but she hadn’t gotten tipsy. Jack tried taking the goblet from her, but she turned so he couldn’t reach it.
“Take it easy, angel. That stuff is strong.”
“You don’t tell me what to do. You’re just a fake husband, not my real one. Even the real one never told me what to do.” Penny stumbled away, and Clarissa caught her arm again. Quietly seething, Jack followed.
Fake husband? He’d see about that.
“Time to go outside,” Clarissa announced, clapping her hands with her long, black-manicured nails. When the guests looked at each other with uncertainty, she sighed. “Yes, I know it’s chilly out there. But if our ancestors could bear it, so shall we.”
The servants were rousing the guests, some of whom had been lying on the couches. A few had been wearing capes with their costumes, and Jack could swear he saw them swiftly adjust those robes over naked bodies and erect cocks. A couple was openly kissing and fucking on one of the chairs, the woman rising and falling with her yellow dressed hiked up her waist.
Penny grasped his arm and tip-toed to whisper in his ear, “Told you everybody and their mama was gonna come dressed like Beauty and the Beast.”
He should have been shocked at what was happening, but he wasn’t. Not anymore. What he felt was a return of the deep hunger that had gone unfulfilled time and time again since the day Penny had casually sauntered into his life and turned him inside out. And with the simmering desire came the stiffening of his cock, to his frustration. Most likely, he’d only get relief if he rubbed one out by himself again later that night after she went to sleep.
With a laugh like the tinkle of chimes, Clarissa called to the woman, “That’s not what we’re having for appetizers, Rebecca.” The woman got up and giggled as she adjusted her dress with hardly an ounce of embarrassment. Clarissa rolled her eyes and smirked as she strutted through the room. “Some people. Can’t take them anywhere. The dining hall is this way.”
“Told you,” Penny whispered again. Then she laughed.