Chapter 16 #2
With all our clothes except for Penelope’s shirt still on, I step under the spray with her in my arms. The space is too narrow for much else, and I abhor the thought of putting space between us, but when she wiggles for freedom, I let her slide down my front.
She tugs the bottom hem of my shirt up until I take over and peel the wet fabric over my head.
She takes advantage of my preoccupation and wraps her arms around me. The soaked fabric of her bra does little to dampen the sensation of her breasts flattening against me. I bite back a moan as she slips her thumbs into the waistband of my pants.
I bang my elbow against the wall, but my shirt refuses to get off my arms.
“Wait, Penelope, I—”
She wiggles my pants down my legs, leaving my underwear clinging to my hips, and drops to her knees as she works them to my ankles.
I free my arms with a vicious yank and snarl when she grabs my cock through my boxer briefs.
Every inch of me shakes with the force of my desire as she wraps both hands around my shaft. Zings of electricity shoot up my spine.
I cup her upper arms to push her away, but she stops me by aiming vulnerable eyes at mine. I marvel at the gold, green, and brown flecks.
“I want to make you come,” she says.
A shiver wracks me from my head to my toes.
“It won’t be hard,” I groan.
She smirks and glances down at my cock before lifting her gaze back to mine and worrying her lip ring.
“You’re hard enough right now,” she quips.
“That’s not what I meant, pipsqueak,” I growl.
Her smirk widens.
“You’re making me want to see how many times it takes to make you go soft,” she whispers.
I curl my toes into the floor and fight back my release by tensing my abs.
“That’s not what I meant either,” I snarl.
“Am I hurting you?” she whispers.
“Only in the best way,” I manage through gritted teeth.
“I… I don’t want to dampen the mood, but…” she shuffles closer as though needing comfort, so I slide one hand to her nape and the other to her back and draw gentle designs on her skin. “The reason I said no to tasting you everywhere is because… Michael tried to make me give him head. I bit him.”
I pause my petting as I process her words.
I’ll kill him.
Avenging my sweet pea will have to come later. Loving and cherishing her comes first.
“Did he bleed?” I snarl.
“Everywhere,” she shudders.
I can’t even find solace in the fact she hurt him, not with the haunted look in her eyes.
I pull her flush against me and wrap my arms around her.
“I’ll never ask you to—”
“I know. I want to. Eventually. Not tonight. But maybe if I… I want to make you come, just not with my mouth,” she says.
“Fucking hell, sweet pea, you might make me come with your words alone. You’re too fucking sexy, pipsqueak,” I growl.
Her tremulous smile embeds itself into my soul. She squeezes my cock. I hiss and tighten my arms around her.
“Let me go. I want to watch,” she demands.
Muttering eager expletives under my breath, I release her and prop my elbows on opposite walls, the shower so narrow I reach with ease. She inches backward and to the side until the shower hits my chest and rains down my front.
With diabolical curiosity, she strokes me through the drenched fabric. I hang my head and watch through my lashes as she wrecks me from the inside out. My triceps burn and lust scorches my veins, but I clench my hands into fists and breathe.
She reaches into my waistband and takes me in her hand. My fuck, fuck, fuck echoes off the walls. She rubs her thumb over my tip. I jerk and hiss. Her hungry eyes search my face as she repeats the motion.
My balls draw up and pressure builds at the base of my spine.
“I’m so close,” I shudder.
She reaches her other hand into my underwear and cups my balls. The soft, gentle grip nearly unravels me. Her eyes remain glued to my face as she strokes me from tip to base. I shout and tilt my hips away, desperate for release but willing to suffer just to keep her hands on me as long as possible.
With experimental pressure, she kneads my balls and slowly pumps her fist up and down my shaft. Fissures of pleasure travel up my spine. A low, guttural groan reverberates through the tiny space.
She drops her gaze to my cock and twists her wrist as she strokes me.
I erupt. White-hot wonder bursts from my balls, sears the inside of my shaft, and jettisons from my tip. My seed spurts onto my stomach and covers her hands.
The downpour washes it away. I heave and consider turning off the water, but reaching for the handle will disrupt my balance and end my careful hold on my body. If I move right now, I’ll reach for her instead.
Her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes superimpose themselves into my frontal lobe.
Speaking of parts of the brain, she needs to rest.
My little sweet pea has other plans. She pushes me backward with her grip on my cock and balls until the water lands on her shoulders.
I growl, the movement awkward with my pants shackling my ankles, but she stills my breath with a diabolical squeeze of my mushroom head.
“Stop, pipsqueak. It’s too soon,” I groan.
“No it’s not. Again. Mine,” she breathes.
I’m a goner. My cock becomes silky flesh stretched over granite in her grip. As she strokes, teases, and lightly runs her nails over me, I find a higher plane of existence. Euphoric agony invades every cell of my body as she takes what she wants from me.
I cover her hands with a second pearly white release. Without the spray to wash it away, she smears it over my cock and plays with the drops on my stomach until it turns tacky.
When she lifts smug eyes up to mine, I growl and pull her lips to mine. I devour her mouth, pouring my awe and devotion into the kiss.
By the time I lift my lips from hers, my cock rallies and pulses in her grip, but I pull her hands away and shuffle us under the spray. After washing her hands, I kiss her knuckles and pivot to clean myself away from her curious gaze, but she huffs and hooks a finger behind my waistband.
“Don’t you dare offer to clean me, pipsqueak. I’m already hard again, but I’ll probably pass out if I come, and you’ve already hit your head enough times today,” I growl.
She sighs, pouts, and releases my waistband.
As I wash myself as best I can inside my boxer briefs, she leans against the tiled wall and smiles.
I place the bar of soap back in its cubby and rinse.
She grimaces and rubs along the bottom hem of her bra. I growl and hook my fingers under the fabric.
“Lift your arms, sweet pea.”
She squeaks as I pull her bra up and off her arms. Need pounds through me as her breasts bounce free. The curved bars pierced through her nipples are pure perfection.
I hastily step away and press my back against the shower wall. My cock juts out so eager and proud it pulls the soaked fabric of my boxer briefs away from my stomach.
Again.
“Goddamn it, I’m going to come again. You’re so fucking sexy, sweet pea,” I groan.
She absently adjusts her belly button ring.
I drop to my knees, my lower legs taking up half the shower space, and curl my fingers around her hips. Her breasts wobble with her rapid breathing.
“You’re perfect, Penelope,” I whisper.
She chews on her lip ring and shakes her head.
“Yes, you are. Let me show you.”
I pull her closer, span my hands over her back to hold her right where I want her, and nuzzle her cleavage. She shudders when I flick my tongue over the jewel on her sternum.
“May I?” I beg.
She spears her fingers into my hair and pulls my head back to study my face.
“My scars don’t disgust you?”
“No, Penelope. I hate that you suffered so much, but your scars are part of you. They’re proof of your resilience. I wish I could take them away from you, and I hate myself for not rescuing you, but they could never disgust me. You’re beautiful, sweet pea.”
Tears glisten in her eyes.
I land a gentle kiss on her chin. The bruise looks so much worse from this angle. I can’t see it from my normal height.
After trailing my lips down the front of her throat, I explore her collarbone and the upper swell of her breasts with my tongue. She gasps as I fill my hands with her abundant mounds.
With every stroke of my tongue and brush of my lips, I worship and adore her. I trace every scar and nuzzle her glorious curves, displaying my love and devotion without words.
Every part of her is perfect. Her heavy breasts, the soft roundness of her belly, how her ass fills my hands; I take my time exploring her as I murmur praises and memorize every scar on her body.
Despite her peaked nipples and flushed chest, I leave her panties clinging to her sex as I remove her sweatpants.
With the water now too cool for her, she shivers and goosebumps pepper her flesh, so I reach behind her and turn off the shower. She pulls my hair, but I growl, push her against the wall, and pin her knee to her chest.
The impressions of her clit and labia piercings in the scrap of black lace prove too tempting.
I cover her sex with my mouth. She squeals and yanks my hair. I growl and devour her like a starving man. When the lace proves too restricting, I hook my finger into the edge and pull it aside.
I groan and dive in.
Her taste explodes on my tongue. Fireworks burst in my head. I lick, suck, swirl, and eat her out until she calls my name.
I dip my tongue under her clit piercing, licking her sensitive bundle of nerves directly, and enjoy her keening as her pussy clenches and her release coats my chin.
When she sobs and closes her fists in my hair, guilt spears through me.
I clean her as best I can, strip off her panties, towel dry her from top to bottom, smear the lotion from above her sink all over her body, dress her in what must be her favorite pajamas, if the faded design is anything to go by, and settle her on the beanbag before peeking into the hall.
She murmurs my name. I assure her I’m not leaving, grab the bag I stashed under the kitchen table the first day I was here, and shut and lock her door when I return.
After changing into dry sweatpants, I lift her into my lap so the back of her head rests against my sternum, and wiggle down into her bean bag.
“I have something I want to show you before you go to sleep,” I murmur into her hair.
“Okay,” she sighs.
“It’s a gift. Technically I gave it to you on Friday, I just haven’t been able to show you yet,” I say.
She stiffens with curiosity.
“Okay,” she says skeptically.
I lean far enough to grab my phone, resettle her on top of me with her ass firmly in my lap, and pull up the office security feed from Friday.
Her sharp inhale shifts her entire body. I ignore the incessant throbbing of my cock.
I watch from above her head as police arrest Julie Kim, the secretary for the executive floor.
Penelope scoffs as they drag her through the busy lobby, enjoying the way everyone turns to stare as my former employee struggles and argues.
“She’ll never land a job that pays more than minimum wage in New York City ever again,” I announce.
Penelope’s shoulders shake. Concern flows through me. She covers her face with her hands.
“Thank you,” she says behind her shield.
Worry worms through me. She said Julie was not an active participant in her bullying throughout high school, but she seemed eager for revenge once I confirmed Julie locked her in the server room.
Afraid I made her cry, I grab both her hands in one of mine and pull them away from her face.
No tears stream down her cheeks. She snickers, chokes, then loses the battle with her emotions.
Laughter bursts from her chest and wracks her entire body.
She rolls around and wraps her arms and legs around me.
“Thank you, Sebastian. I love it. It’s the best gift anyone has ever given me.”
Still chortling, she quickly falls asleep on top of me.
I smile and run my fingers through her damp hair. Less than a few breaths later, I follow her into slumber.
Peace flows through me. I have Penelope right where she belongs: in my arms and lodged so deep in my heart there is no extracting her.
Except, as I drift into sleep, I recall a truth that’ll hurt her to her very marrow.
Her brother intends to marry her high school bully.
Dread pulses through me.