25. Hawthorn
She’s so confused that I have to fight the urge to scoop her into my arms and hug away all of her doubts and self-loathing. But she has to figure some stuff out for herself, even if I wish I could take away all of her pain.
Everything that’s happened this morning has only strengthened my resolve to help the girls get revenge on their parents. I don’t know the full extent of everything they’ve done to Princess, but I know whatever it was, it was bad—maybe even worse than everything they did to Izzy—and they need to pay a penance for that. Gulliver, Davis, Kip, and I are the heirs to some of the most influential families in America, and between us, I’m sure we can hurt the Rhodeses, we just need to figure out what we can do to inflict the most damage.
“In the shower, Princess,” I say, pushing my hand under the stream to check if it’s warm.
“If we get in the shower, are you going to fuck me?” she asks, the bravado in her voice doing nothing to hide how uncomfortable she is asking for anything sexual.
“No,” I say with a chuckle.
“Then I’ll shower on my own,” she snips, hoisting herself onto the counter and glaring at me indignantly.
Laughing, I step under the stream of water and tip my head back, letting it wash away the remnants of the sticky juice from my chest. I can feel her eyes on me, and when I look at her, I find her gaze focused on my hard dick jutting out from between my legs.
“Why are you hard?” she asks, her cheeks turning pink.
“Because you’re naked,” I answer simply.
“And that’s all it takes?”
Her question is so na?ve and adorable that I want to smile, but there’s something about her innocence that’s incredibly sexy. She’s such an odd mix of jaded and guileless, she’s capable of so much bad, but the more I get to know her, the more I question if everything she did was simply because she was so desperate for her parents’ love and support.
“With you, yeah, that’s all it takes,” I confess, watching her expression carefully.
“So if another girl was naked in here…” She trails off.
“I’m not some kid just figuring out what my dick is for, Princess. It takes more than a pair of tits to get me this hard.”
Her lips form an “O’” and she nods slowly.
Grinning at her pink cheeks, I squeeze some shower gel into my hands and slowly wash my chest, abs, and then my dick, taking hold of my length and gripping it tightly as I slide my fist up and down while her greedy eyes watch me.
Her lips part, but the noise of the shower prevents me from hearing the gasp I’m sure she makes. Smirking, I release my dick and quickly wash the rest of my body and hair before stepping out of the shower. Dripping with water, I close the distance between us, pushing between her legs and lifting her from the counter. Roughly grabbing her hair, I drag her head back and kiss her, fighting the urge to slam my cock into her wet cunt.
I’ve never wanted a girl the way I want my Princess. She’s a compulsion, a need, and denying myself now that she’s mine feels wrong on so many levels.
I want to claim her, to stamp my brand on her so the entire world knows she’s mine. But until she believes that I’m hers and that what we’re starting is about so much more than our physical connection, I’m going to withhold sex from both of us.
Sighing, I carry her to the shower and lower her to her feet. Reluctantly releasing her, I take a step back, ignoring the confusion and hurt in her eyes.
“Get clean, we need to get to the hotel and get your stuff because project revenge starts in an hour.”
The lust drains from her face at the mention of anything to do with her parents, and I instantly regret bringing it up. A coldness shutters over her eyes, and I visibly watch her batten down her mental barriers. I want to order her to lower them again, to let me in, to let me see her real, raw and messed up. But I won’t. It wouldn’t be fair for me to use my control over her in that way. Maybe someday she’ll trust me enough to show me herself, maybe not, but either way, it has to be her choice.
Grabbing a towel, I slowly dry myself while she showers. I don’t try to hide that I’m watching her, but unlike me, she doesn’t put on a show. Her movements are mechanical, disconnected, and I question if withholding the physical side of our relationship might be a mistake. I don’t know for sure, but I’d lay money on the fact that Penelope has never been freely given affection. Her parents bartered attention with compliance, and I don’t want her to feel like I’m punishing her by not having sex with her.
Dropping my towel, I open the shower door and step into the stall with her, wrapping my arms around her and hugging her tightly. I feel the hitch in her breath a second before she melts into me, lifting her arms and clinging to me. Leaning back, I cup her cheek and press a hard kiss against her lips, telling her without words that I still want her, that I still need her, that I’m still here and I’m not leaving.
When I eventually pull back, her eyes are glassy, but some of the sadness has faded from them. Without saying a word, I step out of the shower, leaving her to wash her hair while I dry myself all over again.
Wrapping the towel around my waist, I hoist myself up onto the counter and watch while she runs conditioner through her hair. It’s impossible not to notice that there’s not an ounce of body fat on her anyway, her hips are slim, her breasts are small and pert. She’s beautiful, but for the first time I see the fragility in her body. Her hips and collarbones are protruding, and I can clearly make out the outline of each vertebra running down her spine. Maybe after this morning and the food revelations, I’m looking for it, but either way, a sudden urge to protect her and care for her washes over me.
Silently, I vow to help her, even if she leaves me, even if she can’t ever believe in us the way I desperately want her to. I’ll help her anyway, because Penelope Rhodes is somehow becoming my axis, the thing my world revolves around, and I’m helpless to stop it.
When she’s finished with her hair, she turns off the water and steps out of the shower, straight into the towel I’m holding out for her. Wrapping it around her, I gently dry her body as she watches me with unsure eyes.
“I can do this for myself,” she says with a tiny hint of snark.
“I know.” But I don’t stop until her skin is dry and tinged pink from the heat of the water. Taking her hand, I lead her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. “Your clothes are in the closet, the dresser on the right is yours,” I tell her, checking my cell and finding a notification that my delivery is here.
“I need to grab something,” I tell her, pulling on shorts and a tank and heading onto the dock to meet the delivery driver. Handing the driver a tip I, take the drink holder from him and head back onto the boat.
When I walk back into the bedroom, she’s wrapped in a towel, sitting on the side of the bed, brushing her hair.
“Here,” I say, handing her the disgusting looking green juice I ordered for her.
“Thank you,” she whispers, taking the cup from me and pulling the paper covering off the top of the straw.
“They didn’t do a juice exactly the same as the one Mrs. Humphries makes you, but it’s similar,” I tell her, not mentioning that I had them add some protein powder and some calorie-rich fruit to it too.
Taking my own cup from the holder, I uncover the straw and take a deep pull, humming at the sweet mango taste.
Pulling out my cell, I create a new text group and quickly type out a message.
Project Revenge
Me
Gulliver, did you cover us at school for the rest of the week?
Gulliver
Yep, I told them we had to sort out some details for the wedding. Principal Smith lapped it up.
Izzy
What time are you guys getting here?
Me
Figured we’d do it here.
Gulliver
There’s more space at mine.
Me
True, we’ll be there in an hour.
Davis
Is her ladyship coming?
Me
Don’t be a dick.
Kip
Davis, shut the fuck up!
Izzy
Stop it, Davis.
“So, we’re going to Gulliver’s?” she asks, standing up and wrapping her arm across her chest like she’s physically trying to hold herself together.
“Are you okay with that?”
Inhaling sharply, she nods. “It’s fine.”
Lifting her hand into the air, she agitatedly runs her fingers through her hair, trying to smooth the wet strands. I can feel her anxiety from across the room, and climbing off the bed, I stalk toward her and pull her into my arms. Instead of relaxing into me like she did in the shower, she stiffens. “I need you to listen to me, okay? I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it. I want you, Princess, not because you’re beautiful, not because you let me take control, and not because fucking you feels like coming home. I want you because you’re you, and I like you. Now, what I’m doing right now is called a hug. It’s something people do when they want to make others feel better, so just go with it.”
I feel her smile against my chest as she cautiously wraps her arms around my back and relaxes into me, wanting and not wanting to take the hug at the same time. Refusing to let go of her, we hug until she exhales the last of her tension and melts into me, her body melding with mine.
“I need to get dressed,” she mutters into my shirt.
“I know.” I sigh, reluctantly releasing her and taking my spot on the bed again as she pads over to the dresser and slowly opens the top drawer.
“I didn’t—” she says, staring down at the drawer full of pretty lace and satin underwear.
“Fitzy,” I say simply, before she has a chance to question where all the stuff came from.
She sighs softly and smiles, lifting a lilac underwear set out and pulling it on.
A low growl falls unbidden from my lips, and her head snaps to look at me.
“What?” she asks.
Closing my eyes briefly, I rub at my poor, still-hard dick and groan. “Fucking blue balls.”
“You’re the one who said no sex,” she says with a smirk, turning and sashaying to the closet and disappearing inside.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t take sexy fucking lingerie into consideration,” I groan, trying to reposition my dick so my massive hard-on isn’t quite as visible.
She emerges a few minutes later in a white cropped shirt and a pale-blue silk skirt. “Do you have a hairdryer?”
I shake my head. “No, sorry. We don’t have time to go to the hotel now, but we can grab anything else you need on the way home from Gulliver and Izzy’s later,” I say, jumping up from the bed and pressing a quick kiss to her lips as I head for the door.
“I can’t go out without my hair and makeup done.”
“Why?” I ask, pausing in the doorway. “You don’t need makeup. You’re beautiful without it. Plus, we’re only going to Gulliver’s. Izzy will probably be in a sports bra and sweats with sex hair anyway.”
Her eyes go wide, and I laugh, jogging back to her and pulling her out of the room as she messes with her wet hair.
The closer we get to the Winslow estate, the more agitated Penelope gets. Fidgeting in her seat, she pulls her skirt down, flattens her hair, and checks and re-checks her reflection in the pull-down mirror in the visor. Eventually, I pull my car to the side of the road and turn to look at her. “What’s going on?”
“I’m fine,” she insists, her fingers flattening her hair again.
“I don’t like it when you lie to me,” I snarl angrily.
“Fine,” she hisses, turning in her seat to glare at me. “I have no makeup on, my hair is like a bird’s nest, and my skirt is too short. I’m not supposed to be anything less than perfect, that’s been drilled into me every day for years, so I’m freaking out a little bit. Okay?”
Her furious honesty makes me smile. “Your skirt is fucking perfect,” I say, sliding my hand up her thigh, dragging the hem of the skirt up with me, until my thumb is rubbing over the front of her pretty purple panties. “I think you look fucking beautiful. But if you want to get your hair and makeup done for you,” I say, emphasizing the word, “then I’ll take you to get it done. If you think you need to have it done because it’s what your mom expected, then fuck your mom, what she wants isn’t important anymore.”
Nodding slowly, her lips part as I rub her through her panties, finding her clit and circling it with the pad of my thumb.
“I need some armor,” she pants breathily.
“And that’s what the hair and makeup is? Armor?”
She nods, and I nod back in understanding.
Sliding a finger under her panties, I push it into her soaked sex. Fucking her gently, I tease her clit, until she’s panting and her fingers are gripping the edge of the seat. Curling my finger inside of her, I find her G-spot and work it until her eyes roll and her body starts to tremble as an orgasm rockets through her. I keep fucking her until all of her tension bursts from her in a long exhale, and she sags into her seat.
“Better?” I ask, pulling my hand free and immediately sucking my finger into my mouth, licking her arousal from my skin.
“Much,” she rasps.
“Still want to sort your hair and makeup?”
She nods, her eyes closed.
“Okay.” I chuckle, pulling out my cell and dialing the number for the hair and makeup woman we employed for Izzy.
“Hey Yolanda, this is Hawthorn Benedict, do you have any free time right now?” I ask when she answers the phone. Opening her eyes, Penelope looks at me sleepily as I listen to Yolanda give me directions to the studio she’s working in today, that’s luckily only a few blocks from here. “Great, I’ll see you in ten,” I say, ending the call and turning to head in the right direction.
Forty-five minutes later, Penelope is polished and perfect. Yolanda blow-dried her hair, then twisted the front up into elaborate braids, leaving the back loose, and did her makeup in a more relaxed version of the sex kitten look she wore yesterday. By the time she’s finished, my Princess is smiling, tension-free, and a thousand times less agitated than earlier.
When I slow to a stop outside Gulliver’s house, I climb out of the car and take Penelope’s hand when she appears at my side. We’re an hour later than we said we’d be, but I’d rather be late than stress Princess out even more by bringing her here when she was so anxious. Not bothering to knock, I pull out my key and unlock the front door, smiling widely at Beth, Gulliver’s housekeeper, when she scowls at me for not waiting for her to open the door for us.
“Mr. Hawthorn,” she chides, like a disapproving grandmother.
“Sorry, Beth,” I say, completely unrepentant. Towing Penelope along behind me, I head straight for the patio where I’m assuming everyone else will be.
“Finally,” Davis hisses, when I step out through the awful white room and into the bright fall sunshine that’s engulfed the patio.
“Don’t be a Karen, Davis, we’re not that late,” I say, rolling my eyes and shoving him playfully in the shoulder as I move past him and sit down in the corner of the sofa, dragging Penelope into my lap.
“Hawthorn,” she hisses, wiggling to get free, but I band my arm around her waist, keeping her in place.
Penelope might need help to enact some revenge on her parents, but I know that being around Izzy is hard for her. I saw the panic on her face yesterday when she tried to talk to everyone on the boat, and I also know that she’s much more comfortable around her sister and my friends when I’m draped all over her.
“Morning,” Izzy says on a yawn, wandering onto the patio barefoot, in denim shorts, wearing one of Gulliver’s shirts tied into a knot at her waist. Her eyes are barely open, and her hair is wet and tied in a messy knot at the top of her head.
“Come here, Little Ghost.” Gulliver chuckles, grabbing his fiancée the moment she’s within arm’s reach and dragging her to him as she giggles loudly.
“Beth, you’re a marvel,” I say when she strides out onto the patio with a huge coffee pot, cups, creamer, sugar, and a platter full of pastries. The housekeeper winks at me playfully, her earlier ire forgotten as she places the tray on the table before turning and leaving without a word.
“How do you want your coffee?” I whisper to Penelope, lifting her off my lap and placing her on the sofa beside me so I can pour us both drinks.
“Oh my god, Penelope, you have to try the proper creamer, it’s amazing,” Izzy gushes, jumping out of Gulliver’s lap and diving for the tray. “We even have a caramel one, and Gulliver ordered me a birthday cake flavor, it just hasn’t been delivered yet,” she says, quickly making up a cup and shoving it at Penelope.
My girl’s eyes widen, and I tense, waiting for the panic from earlier to re-emerge, but instead she forces a plastic smile onto her lips and reaches out to take the heavily creamer-laced coffee from Izzy. “Thanks,” she says politely.
“So…” I say, trying to pull the attention away from Princess, but instead of looking at me, Izzy is waiting patiently for her sister to drink the coffee, ignoring me completely.
“Try it,” Izzy urges, her eyes wide and her smile huge.
Turning, I try to think of some excuse to take the drink from her, but before I can, Penelope lifts the cup to her lips and takes the tiniest of sips. Her eyes go comically large, and she immediately takes another sip. “Oh my god,” she moans, taking a third sip before eventually lowering it from her mouth. “Why does it taste so good?” she asks, staring down at the cup before lifting it to her lips and taking another drink.
The sound of Izzy’s giggles bounces around the patio, but I just stare at my girl in shock.
“That’s what coffee is supposed to taste like,” Izzy cries.
Penelope moans again, and the sound is so fucking sexual, I have to fidget in my seat to hide the growing erection in my shorts.
“God, is that how I sounded with the pizza?” Izzy asks Gulliver, who’s snickering at her side.
“You were louder,” Kip says, with a chuckle that earns him a jab in the ribs from Gulliver.
“What?” Penelope asks, lowering her now-empty cup to the table and staring at it longingly. “Did I make a noise?”
“Apparently we make porny sex noises when we eat nice things,” Izzy announces with zero preamble, refilling her sister’s cup and handing it back to her.
“I do not!” Princess says in a very Penelope-esque tone.
“You kind of do,” I say, carefully lifting her back into my lap and pushing my hard dick against her ass.
“I do it too,” Izzy says with a shrug. “I’m putting it down to the fact that we’ve been deprived of nice food and stuff, so just ignore them. Have you had pizza yet?”
“I can’t eat pizza, I’m gluten and dairy intolerant,” Penelope reels off without thought.
“No, you’re not,” Izzy says.
Penelope tenses, and I press a kiss to her neck, hoping that my touch will make her relax a little.
“You can eat whatever the fuck you want,” Izzy shouts. “We both can. In fact, that should be the first thing we do as the start of our revenge on them. We’ll take a picture of us both stuffing our faces with some gourmet pizza and tag both Mom and Dad in it,” she cries, jumping out of Gulliver’s lap and grabbing one of the pastries, taking an aggressively large bite from it.
She’s angry, and I get that. The more I learn about everything their parents have done, the way both girls have suffered, the angrier I get on their behalf. I’m just not sure what my Princess will do in response to her sister’s anger. What I’m not expecting is for her to crawl out of my lap, put her cup on the table, and then grab a Danish with a trembling hand.
I feel every one of my muscles tense as she brings it to her lips and takes a bite. No one except me has any idea how much of a big deal it is that she’s eating right now. They didn’t see the way she became catatonic this morning, whimpering and crying, lost to the monsters in her mind. They didn’t see the terrified, harrowed look in her eyes when she finally opened them.
An overwhelming feeling of pride explodes inside of me. To most people, eating a pastry wouldn’t be a protest, but to Penelope, it’s her standing up and fighting in solidarity with her twin.
Grabbing my cell, I jump up, pull up the camera app and turn it to the girls. “Say ‘fuck you.’ I’m going to post it directly onto your mom’s Facebook wall.”
Izzy drapes her arm around Penelope, and they press their identical faces together as they take bites of their sticky, sugary treat, smiling maniacally at the camera.
“Fucking perfect,” I say, forcing the words out past the lump in my throat.
The moment I lower my cell, Princess takes a step toward me and hands the rest of the pastry to me. There’s a slightly frenzied look in her eyes, but I’ll take her crazy over beatdown any day of the week. Capturing my girl around her waist, I sit back down and pull her into my lap, swallowing back the three words that are desperately trying to form on my lips.