Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
PENELOPE
The second the four of us girls stood to leave One Night Stan’s, the Steele brothers were already halfway across the bar—like they had some kind of sonar for when their women were ready to go.
The weirder part was that Declan had followed suit.
He didn’t say anything as the others took off, and he walked me toward the apartment, his big frame moving beside mine like a silent shadow. To anyone else, it probably looked like he was only being polite—just making sure I got home safe. But we both knew what was really going on.
I was walking down the street without panties. Because said panties were tucked away in Declan Steele’s pocket.
Every step I took made me hyperaware of the damp ache between my thighs, the soft whisper of the breeze teasing my bare skin, and the lingering ghost of his voice telling me I was a good girl.
God, why did I like that so much?
I was a grown woman. A grown, accomplished woman. I didn’t need a man to call me a good girl like I was a dog.
But I couldn’t reason my way out of this—my body’s consistent reaction to his praise was proof enough of that.
At the top of the stairs inside the building, I fumbled with the key, feeling Declan’s presence along my back, searing and unmistakable. The second we stepped into the apartment and the door clicked shut behind us, I turned to face him.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t smirk. Just set his keys on the table, dropped his wallet next to them, and toed off his boots, all while his gaze stayed locked on mine.
And me? All I could do was swallow hard and try to remember how to breathe.
“Show me,” he finally said, breaking the silence.
“Show you…what?”
He dragged his gaze down my body—slow and unhurried—lingering on my bare legs, the hem of my dress, the space where my underwear should’ve been. “Sit on the couch, spread your legs, and show me how wet your pussy is after parading around in public without any panties.”
My pulse spiked so hard I swore the air thinned, but I wasn’t ready to give in just yet. I steeled my spine and forced my voice to come out firm. “Do you think you deserve that after what you said to your brothers?”
“No,” he said, shocking me with his honesty. “But I do think I deserve it because your wet panties are in my pocket right now, and I’m the one who made them wet in the first place.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re awfully cocky for a man whose only achievement tonight is basic textile theft.”
He shrugged, utterly unbothered. “You gave them to me.”
“Under duress.”
“Under orders,” he clarified. “And you liked it.”
“I tolerated it. There’s a difference.”
A glint shone in his eyes, and my stomach flipped at the sight. “Yeah? Why don’t you sit down and show me what tolerance looks like soaking your thighs.”
I held his stare for a long, charged second, my chin tipped up in stubborn defiance. Every instinct in me screamed not to give him the satisfaction of my acquiescence. But my body betrayed me, my pussy pulsing and my clit thrumming over his words alone.
I couldn’t help it—I was desperate to see what he had in store for me.
If I had to guess, we were headed straight toward number twelve on the list—mutual masturbation.
And after several days of working our way through some of the tamer items while Declan remained clothed from the waist down, I was more than ready to finally see him in all his glory.
With a huff that was meant to be dismissive but came out breathless instead, I walked to the couch on trembling legs. I didn’t look at him as I sat, but I could still feel his attention on me like a physical presence, heavy and unblinking.
I perched on the edge of the cushion, knees pressed together, posture prim out of sheer muscle memory, and smoothed my dress down as if I were attending a town meeting instead of…this.
He settled into the armchair across from me, his legs wide, posture totally relaxed. “You always sit like a saint when you’re about to finger your pussy?”
I swallowed hard, pulse roaring in my ears at the confirmation my suspicion was right. And then slowly, deliberately, I sank back into the couch and let my knees part. Just enough that the cool air kissed skin that was already far too heated.
My fingers trembled as I slid them up my thighs, dragging the hem of my dress along with them until it pooled at my waist, baring everything to him.
“There,” I said. “Happy?”
The silence that followed was thick. Electric. And when I finally looked at him, his gaze was locked directly between my thighs.
He ran a hand over his mouth and murmured a low, guttural, “Fuck.”
The single word shot a bolt of power through me, making me feel sexy in a way I never had before. But when the silence only continued, I squirmed under his stare, unused to the attention. Unsettled by it.
“Stop staring.”
“Why would I? You’re spread out on the couch for me to enjoy.”
I huffed, crossing one ankle over the other in a pathetic attempt at modesty, even though I knew it was way too late for that.
“Uncross.” His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the command in it. “You wanted this. Now let me see.”
“This was supposed to be mutual.”
Something dark and satisfied flickered in his eyes. “It will be. But first, we’re going to play.”
I stared at him, heart pounding so hard, I worried it was going to break straight out of my chest.
“Play,” I repeated, even though I knew damn well what he meant.
Declan didn’t clarify. He didn’t have to. He just sat there, sprawled in the armchair like it was a throne, his legs wide, one arm slung casually over the side, his eyes locked on me like I was the best thing he’d ever seen.
“Take off your dress,” he said, his voice calm and steady.
I didn’t move.
“You gonna make me ask again, rebel?”
“You didn’t ask in the first place.”
He didn’t say anything, just lifted one infuriating brow. I should’ve refused. Should’ve strode straight to my room without a word. Should’ve, at the very least, held on to some of the high ground I had while still clothed and scowling at him.
But I didn’t. I crumpled like a wet paper bag, every ounce of the posturing leaching out of me. Because the way he was looking at me? Like he wanted to burn away every stitch of clothing I wore that kept his gaze from my bare skin? That was addictive in a way I couldn’t turn away from.
I stood on shaky legs, pulse pounding, and shrugged out of my cardigan, allowing it to slip down my arms and fall to the floor. He tracked every movement, and my skin prickled at the attention, as if he were grazing my flesh with his fingertips.
Then came my dress. I caught the hem and slowly pulled it up, revealing my body inch by inch—my too-fluffy thighs, my soft stomach, my bra that was more utilitarian than sexy because they didn’t make a lot of four-hookers that were pretty.
I tossed it to the side and stood in front of him almost naked, my bra the only thing remaining.
“That too.” His attention was riveted on me, like I might disappear if he even blinked.
Inhaling deeply, I reached back and unhooked my bra before allowing it to slip down my arms and land on the floor. And then there I stood, completely, utterly naked. While he was still fully clothed.
Fully clothed and tracing his gaze over every inch of me.
“Fuck.” It was nothing more than a breath…a whispered oath. “Look at you. Soft everywhere I wanna sink my teeth.”
I fidgeted, trying to place my hands where they’d conceal the most of me, but that was a losing battle. “Some would say too soft.”
His gaze shot to mine, his face a mask of irritation. “Good thing those assholes aren’t here.”
He gave me another once-over, his attention feeling like an actual caress as he slowly licked a path along his lower lip. “All I see are tits I wanna fuck, thighs I wanna bury my face between, and hips I wanna dig my fingers into while I’m fucking you.”
My stomach flipped at his words, my heart stuttering inside my chest. He could’ve made me feel judged in this moment…completely exposed as every insecurity I had was presented under a spotlight and pinned there for him to see.
Instead, I felt beautiful. Coveted. Like every curve he dragged his gaze over was something he wanted to savor.
I expected him to undress too. To level the playing field. But instead, he stayed right where he was, letting the weight of his stare crawl over my bare skin until I felt scorched by it.
“Lie back on the couch. Legs spread. I want to see how wet that pretty little cunt is for me.”
So wet I could feel it on the inside of my thighs. I was a complete mess right now. I’d never experienced anything like this before—that was the whole point of my Fucket List. But tonight had amped things even higher.
I didn’t know what about this evening was doing it for me—if it was the public play, the power dynamics, the way he’d directed every step from that first text to now, or the deliberate imbalance of standing naked while he stayed fully clothed—but there was no denying it.
Whatever it was definitely worked for me.
I hesitated for half a second—just long enough to prove to myself I still could—and then I did exactly as he’d instructed. I reclined on the couch, my back against the throw pillows, and parted my thighs for him to see every drenched inch of me.
“I can’t believe you’re still dressed,” I muttered, not trusting myself to look at him yet.
“I’m too busy enjoying the view.”
The injustice of that landed hard, but it didn’t stop the thrill that shot through me. I was totally and completely on display for him. I was at his mercy to enjoy however he saw fit. And somehow, that didn’t make me feel small.
It made me feel powerful.
Like, maybe, I could make him lose control without even touching him.
“Now…” Declan’s voice was dark and rough, threaded with something I couldn’t quite name. “Touch yourself.”