11. Hawthorn
Icatch Penelope’s eye as she brushes past me, but she looks away, like I’m nothing, like she isn’t still beneath my control, and like we didn’t share something fucking incredible only days ago. Anger bubbles up my throat so hot I can feel it burning, and I have to fight the urge not to reach for her and drag her back to me, demand she apologize to her sister, demand she be the girl she was with me, not the harpy we all expect of her.
But I let her go. I’m too angry to deal with her right now, so I let her walk away and instead turn my attention to Izzy. “Are you okay?” I ask, watching as Gulliver pulls her into him, wrapping his arms around her tightly.
“I’m fine,” she sighs sadly. “I guess I shouldn’t have expected her to have changed because of this. I just sort of hoped she would,” she admits quietly.
“She’s a bitch,” Gulliver hisses angrily.
“Maybe the reality of what’s happened has hit her now that she’s back at school,” Kip says, but it’s pretty obvious he doesn’t believe what he’s saying.
“Let’s go and get some lunch, they have the gnocchi you love today,” Gulliver coaxes, kissing her sweetly before he unfurls himself from around her, takes her hand, and leads her toward the lunchroom while the rest of us follow.
It takes every ounce of my self-control, but I don’t look for Penelope as we enter the cafeteria as a group. I’m pissed at her, and if I see her, I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold my tongue and not make a scene, so instead I focus on my friends. We sit at the table we always sit at, and Kip places all of our food orders while we shoot the shit and wait for them to be delivered.
Izzy slips her blazer off and hangs it on the back of her chair, then leans into Gulliver, resting her head on his shoulder. Trying not to intrude on their intimate moment, I look away, and my eyes land on the small inside pocket in Izzy’s blazer and the glimpse of an old key that’s sitting inside it. Before I can second-guess what I’m doing, I reach forward and pull the key free, concealing it in my hands.
To be honest, until now, I’d forgotten about the room and the key. The very first time Gulliver saw Izzy, she was sneaking out of the old, unused darkroom. At the time, he’d thought she was Penelope, and that’s what started all of this and ultimately led to Izzy’s identity being revealed. Izzy eventually admitted that she’d found the room and the key years ago and had been using it as a place to hide from her sister and everyone else, when none of us had any idea she even existed.
The day Gulliver publicly proposed to Izzy in front of half of the school, I’d stood guard outside the darkroom while he’d blackmailed her into going along with his plan. Back then, we’d all thought Izzy was as evil as the rest of her family. I don’t think any of us ever considered that an engagement that started as a messed-up joke would result in them actually falling in love.
Truthfully, I haven’t really thought about the darkroom since that day, and I don’t think Izzy’s been inside since. Gulliver forced her to stop hiding when he slid his ring on her finger, and after her violent confrontation with her parents, we’ve made it our mission to make sure everyone at Green Acres Academy knows exactly who she is.
Discreetly slipping the key into my pants pocket, I pull my cell out and type a message before I can stop myself.
Me
We need to talk. Meet me by the lockers in two minutes.
Expecting her to ignore me, I lift my head and scan the room for her, finding her at her usual table, only instead of being surrounded by minions like she’s always been in the past, she’s alone.
I watch her read the text, then turn to look at me, her expression shuttered and cold. Holding my breath, I wait for her to ignore me, but instead she slides her cell back into her bag, abandons her untouched food, then pushes away from the table and leaves.
“I forgot something in my car, I need to go grab it,” I tell everyone at the table, pushing out of my chair and striding across the room without looking back. Just like I told her to be, Princess is waiting by the lockers, her posture relaxed and confident like she hasn’t got a care in the world.
When I reach her side, I glance down at her, locking my gaze with hers. Hardening my eyes, I let her see my displeasure, and she visibly swallows, a slight tremor vibrating through her. “Let’s go,” I order, turning and walking past her.
The moment I hear her start to follow me, a grin curls at the corners of my lips, and an addicting sense of power rushes through me at her willingness to still do as I say. It only takes a couple of minutes to reach the door to the darkroom, and I take the key from my pocket, checking that no one is watching as I unlock the door and gesture for Penelope to go inside.
Following her in, I close and lock the door behind me, only then realizing that I have no idea why I’m here, why I told her I needed to talk to her, or why I wanted her alone in this room with me.
“What do you want, Hawthorn?” she snaps after what feels like an eternally long silence.
“You upset your sister.”
“Are you serious? You brought me to this dusty, empty room so you could tell me off for upsetting my sister?” she hisses, annoyance pouring from her in waves, although I can see what I think might be hurt flashing in her eyes.
“You’re being a bitch, Princess,” I snarl, taking a step closer to her. I’m stalling, because I know why I brought her here. It’s because I want to be near her, I want to touch her. I want her under my control.
“So, I’m told,” she says sardonically, crossing her arms over her chest and popping her hip, her lips pursed together.
“I told you to come to the boat, and you ignored me,” I say, closing the distance between us with another step.
Her breath hitches, and her shoulders tense. For a moment, I wonder if she’s scared. But she shouldn’t be. I’ve never hurt her, never done anything she didn’t want or enjoy.
“I’d never hurt you, not unless you asked me too,” I growl, pausing only inches away from her, close enough that she has to tip her head back to look at me.
Inhaling shakily, she runs her tongue over her lips, coating them in a shiny wetness that makes me want to lean down and kiss her. I hadn’t planned to kiss her the other day. Sex can be impersonal, but kissing is intimate, it’s a connection. But I couldn’t resist, I’d needed to taste her then, and I want to do it again now.
“Why are you doing this?” she whispers.
“What am I doing?” I ask, smiling as I reach out and run the back of my knuckles over the apple of her cheek.
Swallowing, she turns her face, enough to avoid looking at me but not far enough to move away from my touch. “It was just sex to break the will, that’s all,” she lies.
“It was so much more than just sex. Did you forget how loudly you screamed my name when I made you come over and over?” I ask, stroking my knuckle down her cheek until I can grip her chin between my thumb and forefinger, turning her to look at me again.
“Hawthorn.”
“Do you remember how it felt to have my tongue, my fingers, and my cock inside you?” I purr seductively, tilting her chin up.
“I…”
“You gave me control. You gave me you, to use as I pleased.” Leaning into her, I pause when our lips are almost touching. “And you loved it, Princess. You loved being mine. You loved every fucking moment.”
I sense rather than see her lips part, but she doesn’t speak. She’s not Penelope Rhodes right now. She’s not caustic and antagonistic, she’s soft and pliant, she’s my Princess. Mine.
“I’ll give you one chance to leave, Princess. If you go now, I won’t stop you, and this will be done. But if you stay, I’m going to touch you. I’m going to take over your body just like I did the other morning. Pick, make a decision right now, you have twenty seconds,” I say, dropping my hold on her and taking a step back, leaving her path to the door clear.
Silently, I count down, keeping my gaze locked with hers, while I wait for a sign that she’s going to leave. I told her she could go, but I’m honestly not sure I could actually let her walk away from me if she tried to. When she shuffles on the spot, crossing and uncrossing her arms, I tense, bracing for her rejection, but as the seconds drift past, she doesn’t leave.
After what feels like a lifetime, I move toward her again. “Time’s up, Princess. If you’re staying, then turn around, bend over, and hold on to the arm of the couch.”
Even though she’s still here, I hold my breath waiting for her to bolt for the door. It’s one thing for her to have the bravado to stay when I’m taunting her with the orgasms I gave her the last time we were together, but it’s another to actually cede control to me again. This time, there’s no will for her to use as an excuse or to distance herself from her feelings. If she stays now, it’ll simply be because she wants to, because she needs to let me dominate her until she’s lost in the pleasure I can give her.
Her eyes are blown wide and filled with panic, but I don’t go to her or soothe her. A part of me wants to, but that’s not what she needs. I can’t give her an excuse to justify wanting this, she needs to admit it to herself and accept it. I won’t allow her to pretend I coerced her into this. She needs to make this decision, and I need to stay here, not touching her until she does.
It feels like it takes an eternity while she wavers on the spot, biting her lip as she struggles with her decision. Finally, her arms fall to her sides, and she slowly turns away from me, takes the few steps across the room to the couch, then bends over.
My dick hardens as the hem of her skirt lifts with her movement. I hadn’t noticed earlier, but instead of the long socks she usually wears, today she’s in ankle socks, leaving miles of creamy thighs on display for me. Reaching down, I squeeze my dick through the fabric of my slacks.
“Perfect,” I whisper.
For a minute, I just stare at her, imagining all the filthy things I could do to her in this position. Closing the distance between us in two steps, I run my fingertips up the back of her thigh, lifting her skirt and exposing her perfect ass and white lace panties.
“I’ll admit that I never really saw any appeal to this uniform until now. But seeing you bent over like this is giving me a whole new appreciation for plaid skirts and socks,” I growl, flipping her skirt completely up, exposing her ass and fabric-wrapped pussy to my hungry gaze. “You look like a filthy little school girl waiting to get punished. I’ve never been into roleplay, but I think I’d enjoy teaching you a lesson,” I taunt, stepping between her legs and forcing her to shuffle her feet further apart.
“Hawthorn,” she whines.
“Have you been a naughty girl?” I drawl.
“Hawthorn.”
Chuckling softly at her impatience, I slide my fingers under the fabric of her panties, palming her ass and squeezing firmly. “I asked you a question, Miss Rhodes. Have you been a naughty girl?”
“No,” she spits, starting to rise from her submissive pose, bent over and on display for me.
“I didn’t say you could move,” I growl, pushing her back into position.
Keeping one hand on her spine, I flip her skirt back up, then reach down and cup her pussy with my hand, feeling the heat and dampness of her panties against my fingers. “I think you’ve been a very naughty girl, Princess. I think since the moment you ran from me with nothing but a fuck you, you’ve been very, very bad. You’ve ignored me, you’ve ignored your sister, and I’d lay money on the fact that you’ve been a bitch to every single person who’s tried to speak to you today.”
“Are you going to fuck me, or am I just here so you can lecture me?” she hisses angrily.
Sighing, I pull my hand away, then deliver a quick, hard slap to her wet, needy cunt.
Her shocked shriek makes me smile. “Who’s in control, Penelope?” I snarl.
“You hit me,” she gasps.
“I spanked your pussy, and if you don’t want me to do it again, I suggest you answer my question. Who is in control right now, Penelope?”
“You are,” she pants.
“Who gets to decide if and when this wet little pussy gets fucked?” I ask, cupping her again and smiling at the fresh wetness soaking the fabric. She can try to pretend that she’s pissed or frustrated, and she might well be. But she’s turned on too.
“You decide,” she says, on a moan.
“Look how needy you are,” I coo. “Once wasn’t enough, was it, Princess? You need more, don’t you? You need me to peel off these soaked panties and fuck you rough and hard, don’t you?”
Her reply is a muffled moan that makes my balls ache.
“These pretty little panties are soaked. Is this all for me? Is your cunt all creamy and wet for me?” I ask.
“Yes,” she rasps, the word sounding like it was torn from her throat.
Pushing her panties to the side, I thrust one finger deep into her hot, wet cunt. “So, fucking tight,” I growl, pumping my finger in and out, until the sound of her arousal fills the air. Adding a second finger, I fuck her slowly, scissoring and stretching her as she pushes back against me.
“Oh god,” she sighs breathlessly.
“I want you to come on my fingers, Princess, fuck my hand until you make yourself scream,” I demand, pushing my fingers into her as she grinds her ass back to meet me. She’s so wet, the sound of her arousal fills the small room, and wetness coats my hand. Sliding my free hand around her stomach, I find her clit, rubbing it in tight, fast circles. “Fuck, your cunt is so tight and wet. Come for me, Princess, come all over my hand.”
Soft gasps change into desperate moans as she bounces her ass back onto my hand, and my dick hardens until it feels like I’m seconds away from coming in my pants like a fucking preteen. When I feel her cunt start to clamp down on my fingers, I contemplate pulling out my dick and slamming into her so I can feel her orgasm ripple over my cock, but before I can, she comes on a scream, her fingers clawing at the couch as her legs give out, and I have to tighten my arms around her to keep her upright.
Her cunt is still fluttering around my fingers when I slide them out of her. Roughly dragging her panties down, I push the wet fabric into my pocket, then hold her puffy pussy lips apart so I can stare down at her soaked cunt.
“This cunt is mine, isn’t it, Princess? Tell me you want me to slam my cock into you,” I demand, leaning over her and sinking my teeth into the nape of her neck.
“Yes, god, yes, Hawthorn, please,” she begs, her hips still grinding, her pussy empty but desperate to be filled.
“Bend right over the arm, ass in the air,” I order, unbuttoning my pants while she eagerly complies. Running my fingers through her folds, I coat my cock in her arousal, then guide the head to her entrance. Curling my fingers around the back of her neck, I slam my hips forward and fill her with my dick in a single brutal thrust.
The sound of her muffled scream goes straight to my dick, and I pull out until only the head is inside of her, then slam back into her. Losing myself in her, I roll my hips, filling her deep with every thrust as I fuck her hard from behind, while she moans and gasps and clamps down on my dick like she thinks I’m going to stop. As if I could stop. I’m a slave to her in this moment, and she might think I’m in control, but there’s nothing further from the truth. This is her show, and I’m just here for the ride.
Unable to reach her clit from this position, I slap her ass hard, loving the sharp hiss she makes that sounds more like a moan by the time the sound fades away. “Play with your clit, Princess, I want you to come on my cock before I fill you with my cum,” I demand, using my hold on her hips to pull her on and off my dick, fucking her hard and fast.
Her arm moves, and I feel the moment she finds her clit and starts to rub it. “Oh god,” she moans.
“Fuck, your cunt was made for my dick. You’re so tight, so fucking perfect. I wish we were filming this too so you could see what I can. So you could watch my cock filling you up, stretching you.” As I speak, her pussy clamps down on me until she’s crying out, her muscles fluttering, milking my dick, and making it impossible for me not to follow her over the edge. Tightening my grip on her hips, I push her forward, then slam her back onto my cock, burying myself deep inside of her before I come with a grunt. Hot release surges through me, and I feel myself using her to jerk all of the cum from my cock, holding myself inside of her until the very last aftershock has subsided.
When I’m spent, I exhale, loosening my hold on her but not letting her go or pulling out. Instead, I exhale, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the center of her back as I let her feel my weight, reminding her that even though we’ve both come, this isn’t over.
I’m not sure how much time passes, but eventually our breathing settles, and she starts to sag into the arm of the couch, her muscles going liquid. Reluctantly, I pull my dick free, watching as my cum drips from her slit, and a fucked-up sense of pride fills me as I stare at her well-used cunt covered in my cum.
Clenching my jaw, I push my dick back into my boxers and rebutton my slacks. Reluctantly stepping backward, I give her enough room to move, even though it’s the last thing I want to do. If I had a choice, I’d keep her just like she is, spread wide, dripping with my cum, and waiting for round two.
My cell rings, and the shrill sound shatters the bubble of seclusion we’ve shared since I locked the door behind us. Rejecting the call without even glancing at the screen, my eyes stay fixed between her legs at the beads of white cum that I can see slowly slipping out of her wet, swollen cunt.
“Are you okay?” I ask, moving to the side and offering her a hand.
“I’m fine,” she whispers, her voice rough as she braces her hands against the couch and slowly pushes herself upright. Her legs tremble as she pushes her weight onto them, so I curl my arm around her waist and steady her. “I’m fine,” she says again, pushing at my hand in an effort to get me to release her.
“Princess,” I warn, sliding my hand from her waist and moving to stand in front of her.
“I need my panties. Do you know where they are?” she asks, a hint of panic lacing her tone as she pointedly avoids looking at me by scanning the floor.
“They’re in my pocket,” I confess, unashamedly.
Her head snaps up, and she looks at me with a mixture of annoyance and heat. Shoving her hand out, she wiggles it at me expectantly. “Can I have them?”
“No.”
“What?” she gasps. “Give me my panties.”
“No,” I say, my lips twitching into a smirk at her shocked expression. I don’t know why she’s surprised, I stole her panties the first time I fucked her too.
“Hawthorn, give them to me,” she says with a little more huff, like she’s seconds away from stamping her foot like a petulant child.
“No, I’m keeping them,” I tell her, pulling them from my pocket and lifting them to my nose. “I can smell how much you want me on them, fucking delicious,” I taunt.
“I can’t spend the rest of the day with no panties on, I’m wearing a skirt,” she cries, a hint of that all-too-familiar bitchiness in her voice.
I don’t like it. I want my Princess, not the uppity bitch who thinks she’s better than everyone else. Until the other day, I had no idea that the softer, sweeter Penelope existed, but now that I do, I won’t tolerate her acting like I’m her subordinate.
Closing the distance between us, I catch her chin between my finger and thumb and squeeze until I’m satisfied all of her attention is on me. “These panties belong to me. I’m keeping them, and you can spend the rest of the day naked beneath this teasing, fucking skirt. Call it punishment for ignoring me last night and being a bitch to your sister.”
“So, us having sex was you punishing me?” she asks incredulously.
“Did it feel like I was punishing you?” I drawl, relaxing my grip on her and stroking my thumb over her skin.
“N- no,” she stutters.
“Me fucking you and owning you is never a punishment. You bending over the couch and putting yourself on display for me was you apologizing for running out on me after thanking me for the help,” I drawl. “Your punishment is spending the rest of the day bare, with my cum drying on your cunt, smelling like sex, and not being allowed to come again until I let you. Every time you move, every time you breathe in, you’ll be reminded of how it felt when I was pounding into your soaked cunt. The rest of the day will be a constant fucking tease, and by the time school is over, I bet you’ll be sitting in a fucking puddle and begging me to make you come.”
Her gasp is the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. I wait for her to speak, to tell me to go fuck myself, or to insist that her body is her own and I can’t tell her not to touch herself. But instead, her eyes stay wide, her lips parted, but no words break free.
Leaning down, I press a row of kisses along her jaw. “Later, when you get back to your hotel, when your cunt is a sopping desperate mess, you can either make a video of you playing with yourself and send it to me, or you can send me your room number and the address of the hotel you’re staying at, and I’ll come over and finger fuck you till you scream out my name.”
Lifting her chin, I run my thumb over her full lower lip, pulling it down until she gently parts her lips. Dipping my thumb into her mouth, I rub the tip against her tongue, then slide it in further, pressing down on her tongue until she complies with my unspoken command and closes her lips around it and sucks.
“Maybe if you show me how well you can follow my orders, I’ll put you on your knees and feed you my dick,” I rasp, pushing my thumb in a little deeper, then dragging it out of her mouth.
Her lips pop when I pull my thumb free, but she doesn’t move, her gaze locked with mine as she waits for me to do or say something. Right now, my Princess is hanging on my every word, and the feeling is heady and addicting.
Exhaling a shaky breath, I take a step back, hating every inch of space I put between us. Without saying another word, I turn away from her, unlock the door, and pull the key free. Opening it an inch, I check if the corridor is empty, then push the door open and gesture for her to step out. Closing and locking the door behind us, I slip the key into my pocket, hating that even though she’s only a few steps away, it feels like miles.
Her back is to me, and I can see the wall she’s putting up between us just from her body language.
“Stop,” I growl, when her foot lifts like she intends to walk away.
Her foot falls back to the floor, but she doesn’t turn to face me, and her tiny act of rebellion makes a smile spread across my lips. I love being in control of her. I love owning her body and pleasure. But now that I know just how broken my Princess is, I’m proud of every moment she proves just how strong she is. She might enjoy being compliant, but that doesn’t make her weak. When she allows me to be in charge of her and her body, she’s giving me that privilege, not just letting me take it.
Moving behind her, I press my body into hers, not wrapping my arm around her waist even though I want to. “Talk to you later, Princess,” I whisper, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss against the nape of her neck.