29. Sydney
twenty-nine
sydney
Penn joins me for my run. I’m not sure how he knows exactly when I leave my house, but he joins me a street over dressed in warm running gear. He seems to be in a mood, elbowing me and cajoling me into going faster and faster.
Because I’m a glutton for punishment, I let him.
Soon enough, we’re sprinting down a path through the woods. There’s snow on either side of it, and the lake is up ahead. It’s all frozen over now, and everything looks a little different than the summer. But it isn’t the same path Carter and I came down from the house party. I’m pretty sure we’re at least two miles from there.
Penn catches my hand before we break free of the woods, and he uses my momentum to swing me around. He backs me against a tree, quick as a whip.
When his lips touch mine, I fucking melt. I let him come to me, let him devour me, until he tugs down my leggings and picks me up. My thighs straddle his hips, but my leggings keep me from wrapping my legs fully around him.
His kiss deepens. He nips at my lip, opening the cut Carter left.
I’m going out of my mind.
He slides a finger inside me. My hips buck at the sensation, but my head is a mess. I just keep kissing him so I don’t have to figure out what to ask for.
I do dirty things with Carter.
I make eyes at Oliver.
I’m public with Penn. Public in a way that doesn’t even cause problems anymore. People seem to have gotten used to the fact that he claimed me. No one gives me shit for it. He reels me in and kisses me when he sees me. He tries to get me to sneak away from class to fuck.
After the first time he threw cash at me and left, he hasn’t repeated that. But I do find my little stockpile growing, and I can’t figure out when. Or who.
Or why, since I haven’t fucked him in what feels like a while. Since before Oliver’s twisted loyalty test.
I’m going crazy, and the run was supposed to clear my head. Instead, I just… I’m all twisted up inside, and I’m kissing Penn while he finger-fucks me, and it’s like gravity has spun one-eighty on me.
I pull away and drop my head back against the tree.
“I have a confession,” I say in a low voice. “And this is the most inopportune time to bring it up.”
“Wait.” He removes his finger and replaces it with something… well, larger. Stiffer.
I groan when he pushes inside me.
“Okay, now it’s the most inopportune time.”
His eyes gleam, mischief written all over his face. He has some scruff on his cheeks now. His hair is hidden by a black beanie, and the tip of his nose is red with cold.
“Carter and I…”
“Have sex.” He nods. “Yeah, figured that one out.”
“And Oliver?—”
“Is a bag of dicks,” he finishes.
I narrow my eyes. He’s not wrong , exactly. But then I remember something else. Something that slipped my mind because of how I woke up—which was sore between my legs and so turned on I could barely catch my breath.
“You took the note from my windowsill.”
He waits.
It’s not a denial.
“Which means you…”
He chooses then to move his hips. His dick slides deeper into me, and I grit my teeth against a wave of pleasure. Unlike my initial wake-up, I didn’t get myself off this morning. I forced myself out of bed and into the shower.
I cleaned the cuts on my ass.
I washed the strange discharge from between my legs.
I pretended I didn’t know exactly what was happening.
“Say it,” he breathes.
He fucks me harder, wrapping his hand around my throat. Not hard. Not squeezing. But his finger and thumb on my chin make sure I can’t turn away from him. My body jolts and reacts to every little move.
“You sneak into my apartment when I sleep,” I gasp.
“It’s not my fault you’re already asleep.”
“You fuck me.”
He smiles. “It’s not my fault you don’t wake up for it.”
I’m not crazy.
“I’ve been going out of my mind,” I confess.
“Good.” He leans in. Instead of kissing me, he bites my lower lip and tugs. “I like you out of your mind. I like the idea of you unraveling. Like when you come on my cock, but more . All the time.”
I shudder and try to process what he’s saying.
That he wants me to break?
That he?—
“Carter has a key,” he says softly. “But he doesn’t like to climb on top of you while you sleep and fuck you like I do. He says he marked you, and I want to know where it is.”
“Stop.” I grip his shoulder, but he doesn’t. “Stop moving, just—I need to think.”
“I need to see this mark,” he growls.
“No, you don’t.”
He pulls out and drops my legs. In an instant, my hands are on the tree and my face is nearly pressed to it, too. His hands cup my ass cheeks, and the sudden rip of the bandage shatters me.
I close my eyes.
He whistles under his breath.
“Penn?” I glance behind me. “I?—”
His gaze crashes into mine, and it’s a whole new level of terrifying.
“Hold on to that tree, princess. I’m going to turn your ass black and blue before you get to come on my cock.”
He seems to be waiting for something. A rush of adrenaline hits me, and I nod. I don’t want it, but some dark part of me is intrigued.
He nods back.
I grip the tree, my nails digging into the bark. He rubs my ass cheek, the one with Carter’s name, and then loses contact.
His palm connects in a sharp smack . Shock chills my skin, but the pain blooms in its wake is hot. His other hand braces my hip, and he spanks me again.
I keep mental count.
Two.
Three.
Four .
When he switches cheeks, I cry out. I close my eyes and lean into the pain, bracing my forehead on my arm. My legs are trembling, but every touch seems to heighten my arousal.
Six, seven, eight .
His fingers move down and thrust into my pussy, twisting and scissoring inside me. I bite my lip and draw blood again. He brings me right to the edge so fucking easily, it’s like he read the manual on my body.
When he withdraws, I’m hollow.
Nine.
I cry out. It’s harder than the others, directly over the cuts. And, strangely, I’m right on the fucking cusp of something insane.
Coming from pain instead of?—
Ten —
My mouth opens, a silent scream, and he thrusts inside me so hard, I almost hit my face on the tree. My orgasm smashes through me, every part of me on fire. He keeps fucking me, his hips slapping my sore ass with every move. The friction of it is delicious, deserved agony.
By the time I come down, he’s got his arms around my waist. He’s more holding me up than my legs, and I blink. I will my brain to work again, but all that’s there is fuzz.
He fucked my brain out. His pace is frantic. Waves of residual pleasure linger between my legs, and I push back against him weakly.
His teeth bury in my shoulder, right through my jacket and sports bra. He bites hard , and I whimper under him. He’s holding me in place with arms and teeth and cock, and it just feels right .
He stills, his groan vibrating through his chest and teeth, where he’s still locked on my shoulder. It’s animalistic in nature.
And when he slowly releases me, first his teeth and then his bear-hug, and then his cock slipping free, I sink to my knees in the snow.
He kneels behind me, hugging me from behind. His hands wander my front, one sliding into my jacket and cupping my breast. His other goes to my throat. I touch his wrist and arm, leaning back against him.
With him, there’s no trauma of being choked. I don’t get the panic that rises like nausea. Just this weird trust between us.
“You wear my necklace when he fucks you,” he says in my ear. “If you ever take it off, I’m going to solder it on.”
My head falls back on his shoulder. “That’s fine,” I sigh. “Better to be sure the clasp won’t break.”
Pause .
His lips touch my cheek. “You’re fucking insane, princess. I think I might love it.”
You know what’s not fun?
Finishing a run with cum between my legs and a sore, bruised ass. Penn smirks the whole way back, running so close our arms occasionally brush. Never mind that the path back isn’t really built for two. He seems content to avoid the branches and foliage and snow on the edges of the trail.
But even when we get to the road, and there’s space to separate, he sticks close.
At the top of my street, I slow to a walk.
“How did you know Carter sneaks in?”
I had to replay our conversation or else my mind would be turned to mush by the pain and tingling pleasure between my legs. I had to focus on something , and I want to know how he knows.
“Because I fucked you while you slept last night.” Now that we’re walking, he snags my hand and threads our fingers together. “And when I came out, the psycho was standing in your living room waiting for me.”
My mouth drops open.
Penn’s gaze slides to mine. “I told him I wouldn’t tell you, but since you now know I have a somnophilia kink, you may as well know he rented an apartment across from your brownstone to spy.”
I stop moving. “What?”
“Carter Masters.” His brows furrow. “What part is confusing?”
“The apartment.”
“Oh.” He resumes walking, pulling me along. “I’ll show you. I don’t think he’s there right now.”
“Why?”
“Because I watched him leave for class.”
I don’t have one stalker—I have two.
“When I feel like someone’s watching me, is that you or him?”
He lifts one shoulder. “Probably him. I know where you’re going to be, I don’t usually follow you. You have two classes on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. One with your friend and one with me. You have three classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Your first class is the only one where you fly solo.”
I stop again.
“How…?”
“I pay attention, princess. First it was to fuck with you. There were opportunities to exploit. Andi being in one of your classes was something Ollie was particularly fascinated by. I think he was going to get his hands on your writing, but then she transferred out. Something about the professor being prejudiced against her.”
I roll my eyes.
“But there’s that cute little notebook in your desk…”
I narrow my eyes. “That’s private.”
He meets my gaze. “Is it?”
“Of course it is!”
“They’re pretty good. The poems. I like the one about you being swallowed by the sun.”
I gape at him, my face slowly getting hotter and hotter. Being swallowed by the sun right now would be less painful than listening to this conversation.
He shrugs. “The drawings are good, too. Dark. You’ve got some demons. Carter’s well aware of that, too, obviously.”
I scowl.
He tugs me along again.
We reach the front steps of the brownstone, and he points to another across the street. “I’d guess one of the higher ones. Third or fourth floor at most.”
“And you’re not going to retaliate?”
He appraises me. “Are you going to pick me?”
“What?”
“If I just wait it out, you’ll get sick of him,” he reasons.
My mouth opens and closes. He smirks and taps my nose. He doesn’t come up with me, but he stays there until I get inside.
Only then do I blow out a long, slow breath.
Because what if I don’t want to choose?
What if I can’t?