35. Hawthorn
“Ineed you,” she whispers.
“Princess.”
“I need to feel it, Hawthorn, I need to silence her and replace it with you. Please.”
Her begging obliterates my objections, and I lift her off the floor and position her so she’s kneeling between my thighs.
“Do you need me to show you how much you belong to me?” I ask, my voice lowering to a growl.
“Yes. Please, Hawthorn, I need you.”
Unzipping my school pants, I lift my butt, push my boxers down, and pull out my cock. “Show me then, Princess, show me how much power I hold over you. Suck my cock.”
A shocked gasp falls from her parted lips. She’s given me a blowjob before, but most of the time I’m too desperate to get inside of her to care about her mouth around my dick. Today, I know she needs me to take control, and this is the fastest way I can think of to put her into a submissive mindset.
Shuffling backward, she leans down and runs her tongue over the head of my dick, pushing the tip into my slit and making me groan. “That’s it. Show me how much of me you can swallow. I want to feel you gag around the head of my cock.”
Doing just as I say, she sucks me into her mouth, bobbing up and down on the head for a moment, before she pushes forward, letting my dick slip further into her mouth.
Wet heat surrounds me, and my eyes roll back in my head. Grabbing a handful of her hair, I drag her up, then force her down onto my cock again until she gags, her fingers scrabbling against my thighs.
The second her hands relax, I pull her up, then push her down again, feeling my cock slip into her throat. She doesn’t fight me, doesn’t try to take over, instead, she sinks into my control, allowing me to guide her mouth over my dick however I decide.
When I feel my control start to slip, I drag her lips completely off my cock. “Turn around,” I order.
Her eyes are glassy, and her lips are swollen and pink, but she does as I say, turning around until her back is to me.
“Lean forward, elbows and forearms on the floor.”
Her immediate compliance has cum threatening to explode from my cock, but I squeeze my length tightly in my fist, ordering my body to calm down. Repositioning myself on my knees behind her, I flip up her skirt, then run my hand over her panty-clad ass.
Just like every time she wears her school uniform, her panties are white and too fucking sexy. The silk between her thighs is darker, soaked with her arousal. Running my fingers over the wet fabric, I have the sudden urge to rip the panties from her body, but I don’t.
“Hawthorn,” she whines.
“Patience.”
Slowly, I peel her panties down, revealing her perfect ass and wet cunt inch by tantalizing inch.
“Hawthorn,” she whines again.
Lifting my palm, I bring it down on her ass, spanking her hard enough to bring a red handprint to the surface of her skin.
“Ow!” she shrieks, twisting around to glare at me.
“Patience,” I remind her, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her reddened ass.
Glaring at me, she drops her head into her hands and mumbles something too quietly for me to hear.
Scoffing, I pull her panties down until they’re caught around her knees, once we’re done, I’ll steal them from her, but for now, the sight of her bent over with her ass in the air and her panties around her knees is indecently sexy.
Reaching around her, I push my fingers against her lips. “Suck,” I order.
Her lips immediately part, and I push two fingers into her mouth, rubbing them against her tongue and covering them in her saliva.
Pulling them from her mouth, I sit back on my heels and rub my wet fingers against her slit. She doesn’t need the added lubricant; her pussy is dripping with arousal. Finding her clit, I rub the bundle of nerves, then roll it between my fingers before pulling back and toying with her entrance.
Pushing just the tips of my two fingers inside, I watch the way her pussy opens for me. When I don’t move, she moans, pushing her ass back and bearing down on my fingers until they sink further into her cunt.
“Do you need my fingers, Princess? Do you want me to finger fuck you until you scream?” I growl.
“Yes, god, please, yes.”
Smiling to myself, I thrust my fingers in all the way to the knuckle, immediately pulling out, then thrusting back in. Pumping my fingers in and out of her cunt, I don’t stop until her moans start to crescendo, then I rip my fingers out of her and replace them with my cock.
Her shocked, outraged cry is drowned out by the sound of the blood pumping in my ears. Holding her hips still, I fuck her with brutal intensity, slamming into her cunt and branding her, claiming her and making her indisputably mine.
In this moment, I don’t care that she’ll undoubtedly wear my marks on her body, I don’t care that someone could hear her panting my name and begging for more. I don’t care that I’m fucking her on the dusty floor of an unused room.
None of that matters. All that matters right now is that she knows she’s mine. When she comes on my cock with a strangled cry, I fuck my cum into her, forcing it as deep inside her as I can reach, because if I have to reassure her a thousand times a day, I’ll do it to make sure that she never questions that what we have is real ever again.
Reluctantly sliding my dick out of her, I pull her up to sit sideways in my lap. Dragging her panties down her legs, I unhook them from her shoes and tuck them into my blazer pocket.
“Really?” she asks, her voice ragged.
“Oh yeah.” I laugh, hooking her chin with my finger and pulling her in for a kiss.
Once we both fall silent, I sigh and press a soft kiss to the top of her head. Fucking her is never a hardship, but knowing that she was so desperate to feel our connection because she doubted we were real makes me feel sick to my stomach.
Her parents and the life she’s lived for the last four years have done so much damage that I’m not sure she’ll ever truly move past the trauma. I’ve felt the tension and anxiety building in her day after day since the party. I know she’s waiting for her parents to strike. Penelope wanted to get revenge, but now I’m starting to worry it’s causing her more pain than any satisfaction she might gain from it.
I’ve never felt hate like I do for her parents, but I don’t want to fuck Penelope up any more than she already is by trying to inflict damage on people who seem oblivious to pain. Any other parent would be wounded by their children’s hate, but Trudy and Barnaby really just don’t seem to care.
I’m sure they’re embarrassed, possibly inconvenienced, but I don’t think there’s anything we can really do that will cause them any actual pain, because I don’t think they’re capable of feeling any real emotions beyond anger and hate.
My Princess already stole her inheritance from them, and honestly, I think that might have been the worst thing that could possibly happen to them. I want her to get her revenge, I want them to hurt because of her. I just don’t want Penelope to feel like she failed if it doesn’t happen.
“Come on, Princess,” I say, lifting her up from the floor and holding out a hand for her to take. She lays her palm against mine, and I pull her into my arms and hold her close, hugging her, trying to tell her silently how real this is and how much I’m hers.
After a long moment, she loosens her grip, and I reluctantly let her go, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before I exhale and take her hand, leading her to the door. “We should get back to class.”
Nodding, she smiles tiredly at me, love and trust and so many more emotions staring back at me from her beautiful blue eyes. My fiancée is nothing like the Penelope I thought I knew—the Penelope I’d presumed I understood. I couldn’t have been more wrong about her, and in the last few months, she’s proved without a doubt that she’s nothing at all like her parents.
I think sometimes she forgets how much strength it took to walk away from a fortune, but she did it. She gave up everything to save herself, to save her sister, and to not end up like her mom and dad. Pulling her through the door, I turn and lock it behind us, then back her up against it and cage her with my body.
“You’re mine, Princess, and I’m a lucky motherfucker, so don’t let me forget it.”
Her giggle is high and tinkling, and I fucking love it. My dick hardens, and all I want to do is unlock the door and take her back inside and lose myself in her body, but I don’t. Instead, I swallow down my groan and lead her to class, knowing that later I can take her home to the bed we share and spend all night showing her over and over just how real we are.
* * *
“Just call me the motherfucking king of the world,” Davis announces as he strolls off the deck and in through the door. There’s a swagger in his step as he slaps down some papers onto the coffee table, then throws himself down onto the couch, a smug grin etched across his face.
“I take it you got the shares?” Gulliver asks dryly.
“I got the motherfucking shares,” Davis declares.
“Did you have to do anything that involved his dick?” Penelope asks, cringing.
“No.” Davis laughs. “Although he did offer to sell them to me for half price if I sucked him off.”
“Oh my god,” Izzy cries at the same time Kip says, “Sweet, so we got them half price.”
“I didn’t suck his dick,” Davis assures us, throwing a cushion at Kip as he chuckles amusedly.
“So, we got them all?” Princess asks, her voice slightly disbelieving.
“We got them all,” I confirm.
“What now?” Izzy asks the question I’m sure we’re all thinking.
“Now we start a coup,” Kip says. “The annual shareholders’ meeting is in less than two weeks’ time. We’ll attend the meeting and submit a formal request to remove your father as a director and have him terminated from the company. Assuming that whoever inherits now isn’t in attendance, then we should be the majority shareholders present, and there won’t be anyone there who can oppose us.”
“Then what?” I ask, looking at my girl. “Do we just walk away?”
“That’s up to Penelope and Izzy. We have the sex tapes we can use, plus the rest of the paperwork we haven’t been through yet, there might be something else we can leak to the press in there,” Kip says.
“Where is all the rest of the stuff we took from the girls’ house?” Gulliver asks.
“It’s still in the case in the back of our closet,” I tell him, jumping up and jogging toward our room. Grabbing the small carry-on case, I smile as I look at how full our closet is. All of my Princess’s things are hanging next to mine—her shoes on the racks, her makeup and jewelry filling the shelves—she’s settled in and made this place her home. I know we’ll be leaving for college soon, but this boat, my favorite place in the world, will always be full of her now too. My favorite person and my favorite place all blended together in the perfect mix of freedom and home.
Carrying the case into the living room, I place it down on the coffee table and open it. “Here, everyone take a pile and start looking through it,” I say, pulling out handfuls of paperwork and passing them out to everyone.
The room falls silent, except for the sound of shuffling papers as we all concentrate. “I have lists of investments,” I say, looking up from the paper in my hand. “Looks like your dad bought shares in the companies of his top ten son-in-law choices,” I sneer.
“How much Winslow stock does he own?” Gulliver asks.
“Not too much,” I say, handing the stock order over to him and placing the others on the floor at my feet.
“Jewelry,” Davis says.
Looking up, I find him holding a black velvet jewelry box in each hand.
“I found those in Mom’s safe, I’m guessing since they’re identical, they’re actually mine and Izzy’s,” Penelope says. “Our passports and birth certificates are in there too.”
Davis throws the box at Penelope, and she catches it and opens it. Peering around her, I see a large diamond hanging from a simple gold chain nestled against the black satin of the box.
“Here,” he says, throwing her passport and birth certificate at her next. “Hey, there’s something else in here too.”
Opening the passport, her face twists into a grimace. Closing it, she glances at her birth certificate, then folds it in half, slides it into her passport, and places them both with the jewelry box on the floor.
“Hey, this is a letter addressed to you, Pen,” Davis says, holding up a sealed envelope in his hands, her name written in swirling black ink across the front.
Turning to look at Penelope, I watch as the color drains from her face. Her hands are shaking as she stands and crosses the room, taking the envelope from Davis’s hands and running her finger across her name. “This is from my great-grandfather,” she whispers, fear lacing each word.
“Open it,” Gulliver orders.
Sliding her fingers beneath the seal, she pauses, lifting the envelope up to her face and examining it. “This has been opened already and then pressed closed again, I can feel the hardened glue.”
“What does it say?” Izzy asks.
Pulling the thick sheets of paper free, she lets the envelope fall to the ground and starts to read. For a few long moments, she scans the letter, her face twisting into an expression of confusion until her lips part and a whoosh of shocked air bursts from her.
“What does it say?” I ask.
“It says…” Trailing off, she hands the letter to me and then sits down in my lap, burying her face into my chest like she has no idea what to do. Curling my arm around her, I hold her close, then lift the letter up and begin to read it aloud.
Dear Penelope,
I’m hoping you won’t ever read this letter, because if you are, it means all of my hopes and good intentions have failed.
When I wrote the set of rules that I asked you to live by, I did it truly hoping that it would help mold you into a person worthy of deserving my fortune. I created a guideline to help stop you from straying from the honorable path, to help you create a future for yourself and all future generations to aspire toward.
I’m an old man, but I’m not ignorant to the fact that the world we live in can be ruthless and hard on soft, weak females, and that is why I want you to find a husband who would also be tied to my expectations of moral fortitude. The Rhodes name used to mean something, it used to scream hard work, resilience, and pride, and I want it to mean those things again.
If you’re reading this letter, it means that you have fallen from the path I set forward for you, and as such, you believe that you have forfeited your chance to inherit. I’m writing to let you know that, depending on the circumstances, that might not be the case.
In my previous letter to you, I listed nine rules to guide your future, and if you have failed to meet those expectations from sheer lack of will and a weak nature, then my estate will be passed along to your sister, who will then be expected to abide by the same rules that you were unable to adhere to. If this is the case, then I hope she is more capable of honoring our family’s name than you have proven yourself to be.
However, I left in a few clauses that could circumnavigate the original terms I put forth. If you have waited until you are twenty-five and have chosen to walk away from my estate, then I applaud you, and the money is still yours to enjoy as you see fit. I feel that if you have made it to this age without having broken the stipulations, then you are already the type of person whom I would be proud to call my family. I advise you to invest wisely, work hard, and leave a legacy that your children will be proud of.
Alternatively, if you have deliberately broken one of the stipulations of inheritance in order to release yourself from the obligations of my will, then I have left the redistribution of my wealth in the hands of my good friend and trusted lawyer, Andrew Stanton. He will assess your reasoning for breaking the will and move forward in accordance with my guidelines as he sees fit.
Regardless of how this letter comes to be in your possession, I wish you health, happiness, and prosperity for your future life.
Kind regards,
Reginald Rhodes the Second
“So, who gets the money?” Davis asks.
“I’m not sure,” Penelope answers, her voice a little dazed.
“Is this guy the lawyer you saw when you first broke the will? Wouldn’t he have told you if you were still going to inherit?” Gulliver asks her.
“No, I saw Mr. Kingston. Maybe he decided my reasoning for wanting out wasn’t good enough, or maybe whoever gets it after me was better suited,” she says with a shrug.
“You need to go and see him,” Kip declares, excitement lacing his voice.
Her entire body tenses. “Why?” she asks, incredulous.
“Because if you still get that money, your parents are going to drop dead on the spot, and if you don’t, perhaps you’ll be able to find out who does and who we’ll be up against at the shareholders meeting,” Kip says, practically bouncing with excitement.
“You need to go and see the lawyer, Princess,” I tell her, hating that her great-grandfather is still fucking with her, even after everything she’s done to free herself of him.
“I don’t want the money,” she says, her voice a little too loud.
“I don’t care about the money, you can give it all away,” I say, cupping her cheek in my palm. “You wanted revenge, and this would be the ultimate revenge. Can you imagine your parents’ faces?” I say, watching the heat flare in her eyes.
“You wouldn’t care if I gave it all away?” she asks.
“If you want, we can go up to the top of the Empire State Building and make it rain money from the roof with every single penny.” I laugh.
Her teeth worry her full lower lip as she swallows and then nods. “We’ll go and see him tomorrow.”