15. Hawthorn
Every time Penelope walks away from me, it pisses me off a little more and eats away at my resolve to keep some distance between us. Last night, I shouldn’t have gone to her hotel. I shouldn’t have held her while she sobbed in my arms, and I definitely shouldn’t have admitted how hard it is for me to stay away from her.
The moment I left, I wanted to go back to her. I wanted to pull her into my lap and feed her dinner. Then I wanted to strip her naked, cover her with whipped cream, and lick her clean. But unless I’m all in, I need to stay the fuck away from her, even though that’s getting harder and harder to do.
Penelope is Izzy’s sister, and even though I don’t think my Princess is ever going to be who her sister wants her to be, they could have a relationship if Princess just stopped being such a prickly bitch. Both of the girls are a product of their fucked-up upbringing, but where Izzy came out swinging, Penelope seems to be crumbling.
Her parents have banned her from getting into the house. They’re clearly punishing her because they know she hasn’t got any of her things, and they’re deliberately stopping her from going home. It wouldn’t surprise me to find that her stuff was gone even if she could get onto her parents’ estate.
They’re supposed to be the adults, the caregivers, but those people have never thought of their daughters as anything but a commodity to be used for whatever purpose suits them best.
A part of me is kind of glad that Penelope’s family has done this to her because it’s forced her to see exactly who they are. She might not think it, but by cutting her off from everything from her old life, they’ve gifted her a fresh start. She’s no longer Penelope Rhodes, heiress, and now she has a chance to be exactly who she wants to be. Who she would have been before that godforsaken will came into her life and destroyed the sweet girl that I’m sure is still hidden beneath her hardened surface.
When I’m alone with her, the need to comfort her and to take care of her is almost blinding. But when I see her at school and she’s cold and harsh, it’s impossible to forget that she’s the same person who ruthlessly forced her sister to hide and denied her existence for years just so she didn’t have to limit her social life to allow enough time to study.
She was in most of my classes today, but apart from when our eyes met by accident, she pointedly avoided me, the same way she actively shied away from Izzy. I hate that she wouldn’t look at me when she knows it’s what I expected of her. I hate that she treats me like I’m simply her sister’s friend and not someone who knows how she sounds right before she orgasms.
I spent the last hour of school watching as she struggled to work through the math problems in class, and all I could think about is how it feels to have her beneath me, how sweet her lips taste when I kiss her, and how she gave herself over to me in a way no one has ever done before. She’s perfect in all the very worst ways, because her perfection blinds me to who she really is.
I’ve been berating myself for coming here again since I got into my car, but no matter how many times I told myself not to come, I’m still here, standing outside her hotel room with my fist poised to knock. Banging the door, I step back and wait, wondering if she’ll answer. Quicker than I expected, the door swings open, and a tired-looking Penelope appears in the doorway. Just like yesterday, she’s wrapped in the white cotton hotel robe, but the cord is tied tight, covering her from her neck to her knees.
My dick still twitches, because I’m pretty sure she’s naked beneath the toweling fabric, but no matter how much I want her, I don’t think that’s why I’m here. Something fundamental changed between us yesterday. It started in the darkroom when she gave herself to me so fucking prettily, and then built and built when I held her in my arms and felt her fall apart.
I crave her like I’ve never craved anything else before. But I don’t just want to fuck her, I want to own her and not for an hour or a night. I want to own her the way Gulliver owns Izzy, the way she owns him.
I’m still finding it hard to accept that I’m attracted to someone who could be so awful to their own flesh and blood, but the more I get to know about her, the more I’m wondering just how much her parents manipulated her. The moment she asked me to take her virginity, some weird, fucked-up part of me claimed her, and now I want to help her, to protect her, to take care of her, and no one, not even my family or Izzy, has ever made me feel this way.
After I ran away from her last night and all the weird emotions she makes me feel, I spent an hour Googling all these messed-up feelings I have for her. I’m either about to die from a brain tumor or I like her.
I like Penelope Rhodes. No. I like my Princess. I like the sweet, sad, lonely girl who gave me her body, not realizing that once it was mine, I might decide not to give it back.
I’m aware that I have control issues. I like things a certain way. But those things are all about me. The guys know about my quirks, but I’ve never felt compelled to push my oddities on them.
But I’m itching with the urge to take control of Penelope, not just her body, and not only while I’m fucking her. I want to take control of her completely in every way. I want to throw her over my shoulder and take her back to The Escape. I want to feed her, buy things for her, and be hers.
I sound like a fucking psycho even to myself, but it doesn’t stop me from stepping past her and into her room without waiting for her to invite me in.
“Please, come in,” she says sarcastically, but she doesn’t ask me to leave. I wouldn’t anyway, I couldn’t walk away if I tried. Now that I’ve admitted my feelings for her to myself, there’s no going back. Maybe if she hadn’t treated me like I was a stranger and walked away from me without looking back this morning, I might have taken the time to ease her into being mine, but it’s too late for that now.
Not looking at her, I cross the room to the small closet and throw open the door. It’s empty except for the dress she wore to the engagement party, the jeans and shirt she picked when I took her to the mall, and a GAA uniform. Pulling the drawers open, I find all but one empty, and except for a handful of underwear, she literally has nothing.
“Why haven’t you been shopping?” I demand.
She shrugs, and her robe falls open a little, exposing her shoulder.
“I asked you a question,” I growl, unreasonably angry at her, at her parents, and at myself for not considering that she hadn’t been home.
“I’ll get around to it,” she says, her tone becoming obstinate.
“Get dressed.”
“No,” she snaps, righting her robe and crossing her arms across her chest.
“Princess, I am not fucking around right now. Get dressed,” I say, fighting the urge to demand she do as she’s told.
“No. I’m tired, and I don’t want to go anywhere.”
Inhaling sharply, I lift one hand and rub at my temple, trying to stop myself from imploding at the fact that my woman has an empty closet and only two pairs of panties right now. “Penelope,” I hiss. “You can either get dressed and walk with me, or you can be a pain in the ass and I’ll carry you out of here in nothing but that robe. Right now, I don’t give a fuck which option you pick, but either way, you’re coming with me. You have one minute to make a decision.”
Rolling her eyes, she shakes her head dismissively. “Go away, Hawthorn. After you ran out of here like your ass was on fire last night, I thought we decided you weren’t going to act like you cared anymore. The sex might be great, but you’re my sister’s. We have our roles; you hate me, and I hate you. We need to stay away from each other. I want to stay away from all of you,” she says, sitting down on the edge of the bed and reaching for the TV remote.
“Time’s up,” I snap, fighting back a smirk. If she thinks she can send me away with a little attitude, she’s got no fucking clue how wrong she is.
“Goodbye, Hawthorn,” she says, wiggling her fingers at me in a “fuck you” wave.
Laughing softly beneath my breath, I close the distance between us in a single stride, grab her around the waist, and haul her off the bed, into the air, and over my shoulder.
“Put me down,” she screams, beating her fists against my back.
“I gave you a choice, Princess, it’s not my fault you picked the wrong option. You better hope it’s not busy in the lobby, because I’m pretty sure you can see your ass out the bottom of this robe.” Ignoring her protests and her tiny fists smacking against my back, I grab her cell and room key, open the door, and carry her out.
Shrieking, she writhes around trying to break free of my hold, but I just laugh and grip her a little tighter. “Behave,” I chide, my voice full of amusement.
“Where are you taking me? Put me down, Hawthorn, I hate you so much.”
“You don’t hate me, and I don’t hate you,” I say, then mutter, “That’s the fucking problem,” beneath my breath.
“Put me down, and I’ll go and get dressed,” she begs.
“It’s too late for you to backtrack and do as you’re told now. I asked you to do something, and you didn’t. I told you what would happen if you chose wrong, and I’m a man of my word. Haven’t I always done what I told you I would?”
“Hawthorn,” she cajoles, using her practiced seductive voice I’ve heard her use on guys before.
“Don’t try that bullshit with me, Penelope,” I hiss. “I’m not one of those spineless fuckers who stood by and watched while you flirted with every name on that fucking list. I don’t give a fuck about the money, I never did. I own you, Penelope. No money, no power, nothing, just you.”
“Shut up,” she hisses, her voice thick with emotion.
Stopping, I lower her to the floor, keeping my arm tightly wrapped around her. “Listen to me, Princess. When you first gave yourself to me, I took you knowing that you didn’t come with the extras. It didn’t matter then, and it doesn’t matter now, because I couldn’t give a fuck about that inheritance. But don’t treat me like I’m one of those fuckers, I’m nothing like them.”
Slamming my lips against hers, I kiss her with every ounce of frustration I’ve felt since she drove away from me the morning I made her mine. Filling her mouth with my tongue, I brand her lips with mine, claiming her right out in the open for everyone to see. When her body melts against me, I pull away, cupping her cheek and locking my gaze with hers. “I’m not a man you can play with, Princess, but I promise not to play with you either. All I expect is for you to be you, and we’ll figure the rest out as we go. Don’t ask me what the hell this is, because I have no idea, I just know that I’m done trying to pretend that it’s not happening.”
Her eyes widen and her lips part like she’s going to speak, but before she has a chance, I pick her up and throw her back over my shoulder again. This time she doesn’t fight me, and no one says a word as I carry her through the lobby in nothing but a hotel robe. I swear, the guy behind the reception desk even smirks as I pass.
“Where are we going?” she asks, the bitchiness gone from her voice when I lower her into the passenger seat in my car and fasten the seat belt around her.
“To get you some clothes,” I answer, rounding the hood and climbing into the driver’s seat. Pulling my cell from my pocket, I find the contact I need and hit dial, before lifting it to my ear. “Hey,” I say when the call connects. “I need a favor.” I listen for a moment. “I need a new wardrobe, size two. Okay, see you soon. Thanks, bye.”
“Who was that?” she demands the moment I lower the cell from my ear.
“A friend,” I say, pulling away from the hotel and into the evening traffic.
“Hawthorn,” she whines when I ignore her and focus on driving.
“Penelope,” I say back, smiling widely.
“Why do you say my name like you’re using it as an insult?” she asks.
“Because I prefer my Princess,” I tell her simply.
“I don’t understand.”
“When you’re acting like you think Penelope Rhodes ought to act, I call you Penelope. When you’re acting like the girl who gave me her virginity, the one I want to be around, the one I can’t keep away from, I call you Princess.”
I expect a bitchy response, but instead she stays quiet, not speaking until we pull into the parking lot at the marina.
“I thought we were getting clothes?” she asks.
“We are, after we eat,” I tell her, pulling into my usual space and killing the engine. By the time I climb out, she already has her door open, eyeing the gravel parking lot warily. “Come here,” I say, reaching into the car and lifting her out. Instead of tipping her over my shoulder, I hold her in my arms, closing the car, then carrying her up onto the deck of The Escape.
I reluctantly lower her to her feet the moment we’re on the deck, and she obediently follows me inside once I unlock the door. Turning on the lights, I bypass the living space and head straight into the kitchen. Crossing to the refrigerator, I pull out a beer for myself and start to grab the ingredients for dinner. “Do you want a beer?” I ask her.
“No, thank you,” she says quietly.
Straightening, I turn to look for her and find her standing cautiously in the doorway. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” she says, stepping inside, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.
“Why don’t you go take a shower while I cook dinner? Help yourself to a shirt, or whatever you want to wear from my closet.”
Tensing, I wait for her to argue, but instead she fidgets with the cord on her robe and bites at her lip uncomfortably. Sometimes when she’s so full of attitude and fire, I forget how fucking fragile and adrift she is right now.
Sighing, I cross to the doorway and curl my arm around her back, pulling her into me. “Princess, if you don’t want to shower, don’t. If you want to wear that robe for the rest of the night, then do it. Fuck, if you want to take it off and wander around my boat completely naked, I’m completely onboard with that too. I’m not telling you to go shower because of how you look, I just thought it might help you relax. I think you’re fucking stunning when you’re hot and sweaty beneath me. I think you’re beautiful, all mussed and sleepy. My dick has been rock-hard for you since the moment you opened that hotel door, because you don’t look like Penelope right now, you look like my Princess, and that is so fucking sexy I’m barely keeping my hands to myself,” I whisper against her lips, a moment before I kiss her, pressing my rock-hard dick against her stomach as I hold her tightly to me.
Her lips are soft and sweet against mine, tentative for a moment, until she starts to lose herself in the kiss. Sliding her hands up my chest and around my neck, she buries her fingers into my hair, pushing up onto her tiptoes so she can deepen the kiss, her tongue tangling with mine. Lifting her off the ground, I groan when her legs automatically wrap around my waist. “I want you,” I say, pausing our kiss long enough for the words to fall from my tongue.
“Yes,” she gasps, kissing me again, her fingers clinging to me.
Carrying her to the bedroom, I lower her to the mattress and peel the robe from her body, unwrapping her like she’s a gift. Instead of ordering her to do as I say, I position her body the way I want it, spreading her legs and opening her up so I can lay down between them. Parting her folds with my fingers, I lean down and gorge myself on her sweetness, licking and kissing until my face is soaked with her arousal and her hips are arched off the bed as I deny her the orgasm she so desperately needs.
“Hawthorn, please, please, please,” she begs wantonly.
“You taste so fucking good, Princess, do you need to come?”
“Yes. God, please, yes.”
Taking pity on her, I push two fingers into her empty pussy and flatten my tongue against her clit, lapping at the bundle of nerves until she comes around my fingers with a guttural moan.
Quickly stripping out of my clothes, I fist my cock, gritting my teeth and fighting the orgasm that’s threatening to unman me. Guiding the head to her entrance, I rub my cock through her folds, coating myself in her cream, before I push into her in a slow, steady glide. When I’ve fucked her before, it’s been fast and intense, but tonight I want to take it slow, to watch every expression as I drive her to the edge of madness and watch as she falls over the edge.
Her lips part and her breathing stutters the moment I bottom out inside of her. Holding myself still, I lean down and kiss her, sucking her tongue into my mouth as I push my hand between us and finger her clit with my thumb.
“Hawthorn,” she gasps.
“You feel too fucking good, Princess,” I praise. Pulling back, I slowly withdraw my dick, then push back inside of her, my pace so unhurried I can already see the frustration etched all over my Princess’s face.
“Harder,” she pants.
“No.”
Slow and steady, I learn her body, exploring her with my hands. I watch the way she hums with arousal the moment I toy with her nipples, the way she bites at her lip when my dick rolls over her G-spot, and how her eyes flash with hunger when I pinch her clit. My Princess enjoys a little pain with her pleasure, and I smile to myself at how fucking perfect she is for me.
“Fuck me, Hawthorn, please,” she begs.
I’m enjoying the leisurely pace, but my balls are drawn up tight, and I know we both need a little shock and awe. Sliding almost all the way out of her, I snap my hips, thrusting back into her with enough force that she slips up the bed.
“Oh fuck,” she moans.
Pulling back, I snap forward again, and Penelope mewls. The sound is like a red flag to a bull, and suddenly I’m desperate to feel her milk my dick. Curling my hands around her hips, I buck into her wildly, fucking her with brutal determination until she blinks and then screams my name.
In this moment, while she’s beneath me, with her eyes wild and her expression free of artifice, she’s all Princess, the girl that I don’t seem to be able to escape, the one I think I want to keep.
* * *
“Come take a shower with me,” I whisper against her neck, her naked, damp body pressed against mine.
Without opening her eyes, she shakes her head, too drunk on orgasms and relaxed to move.
Laughing lightly, I untangle myself from her, tapping her ass as I climb out of bed and head for the shower, hoping she’ll join me. I reach in and turn on the water, then immediately step under the stream, not bothering to wait for it to heat up. The cold water is a shock, but instead of being unpleasant, it settles my overheated body. My dick was inside of her five minutes ago, but I’m already hard and ready for more, and if I don’t calm down I know I’ll find myself back between her legs the moment I go back into the bedroom.
It feels wrong to wash her scent from my skin, but unlike the last two times we’ve fucked, I know I won’t be letting her run from me anymore. Princess is mine now, and I plan to be coated in the sweet scent of her and her screaming orgasms again soon. When I step out of the bathroom a few minutes later, my gaze automatically moves to the bed, and anger instantly consumes me when I find it empty.
“Princess,” I snarl, stomping into the galley and stopping short when I spot her drinking from a glass in the kitchen, wearing one of my shirts that hangs down to her knees.
“What’s the matter?” she asks, her eyes still soft, wide, and innocent.
Relief bursts from me. She’s still here, and she’s still my Princess, her cold Penelope mask nowhere in sight. “Nothing, come here,” I order, my voice gruff.
Padding on bare feet, she closes the distance between us, pausing a step away from me.
“All the way here,” I say, crooking a finger and beckoning her closer, a smile spreading across my lips.
Swallowing, she sways on her feet. “Hawthorn.”
“Princess, I know you want to know what this is, but I’ve got no fucking clue. I just know that I can’t leave you alone, and I don’t want to. So come here and kiss me, because I think you want me just as much as I want you. Maybe we don’t need to understand it. Maybe you just accept that you’re mine and I’m yours, and we just enjoy it instead.”
Her lips part, and she worries her bottom lip with her teeth while she processes what I just said. For a moment, I think she’s going to run, but instead she steps into my chest and wraps herself around me.
A knock at the window startles us both, and she tries to pull away as I hold her close. Looking up, I smile at the familiar face. “Hey, come on in,” I call.
Loosening my hold on Penelope, I turn her so her back is against my chest and she can look at our guest.
“Izzy,” Fitzy gasps, his face going pale.
“No,” I say as I feel my Princess go rigid in my arms. “No, Fitzy, this is Penelope.”