Chapter 9 Penelope
Penelope
It doesn’t hurt. This is new.
I’ve had wet dreams before about this man, pictured him kissing me, touching me, and everything in between. Every time I’ve woken up with my pussy tingling, I’ve always been afraid to address it.
I never want to experience that kind of pain again, not even with my fingers.
But this…
Judge groans beneath me as my hips grind against him. I have to stop myself before I give in to the pleasure I’m feeling.
“Am I hurting you?” Blinking out of my daze, I lift my hips ever so slightly. “Should I stop?”
I want us both to feel good. I need it.
His grip on my hips tightens before he drags me back, right against his arousal. I can feel every inch of him, all the proof I need that Judge sees me exactly how I want him to.
“It hurts, but in a good way.” Groaning again, I feel his thighs flex beneath me as he mutters his feelings.
Can it hurt in a good way? Is that what this ache is I feel between my own legs? A throbbing that makes me want to feel something pressed against the source.
“If you touch me… will it feel good?” Grabbing his hand, he lets me press his fingers against the seam of my shorts.
Judge wouldn’t hurt me. He’d stop if I asked him to. He’s a good man.
“Penelope…” Croaking my name, he shakes his head. “We’re moving really fast. I don’t want you to regret this. I don’t want—”
“Even if I really want it?” Letting out a shaky breath, I grind my hips in hopes he can feel even a hint of what I am.
My underwear is clinging to my skin. I can feel the slickness forming, more than I’ve ever felt at once. The tingling is growing by the minute, and something tells me this ache is going to get a lot worse if I leave it untouched.
His brows push together, and I can see the fight happening inside of his head. Even when it’s just us, he’s at war. This time, it’s my fault.
“I trust you.” Murmuring the words, I cup his cheek, hoping to silence the fight. “You’re… I only want you to touch me.”
There’s no denying the way satisfaction rolls across his face. Even if he’s battling himself, he can’t deny how much he enjoys my words.
Finally, he nods, sighing in defeat.
“Let’s make you more comfortable, then.” He uses his hands to turn me around.
Sitting up so I can use his chest like a wall to lean on, his hands move to my shorts.
With a little bit of teamwork, he slides my shorts and underwear off.
Once he’s hooking my ankles with his and parting my thighs, he’s groaning against my throat.
“Pen, I’m serious. If you change your mind, you need to say it. You won’t hurt my feelings.”
He’s so freaking cautious of me, it’s not funny. How many times am I going to have to tell him that I’m okay?
It’s him. If it were anyone else…
“Touch me, Samuel.” The demand leaves my lips before any bad thoughts can ruin this moment. “Please.”
His chest rumbles with a groan, and he curses against my ear. He does really like it.
Ever so carefully, his fingers slide down my shirt before lightly grazing my sex. Tracing my slit, he stills completely, his focus aimed on one thing only.
He’s always had big fingers. I’ve lost count of how often I’ve stared at them while wrapped around a bottle or a shot glass. He’s made cigarettes look small. Made me realize that there’s power behind those fingers.
My legs jerk the moment I feel those fingers brush against my clit. His ankles keep my legs in place, but he can’t stop the whimper that catches in my throat.
“Must’ve been a really good dream…” Mumbling to himself, he continues exploring. “You’re soaked, Pen,” he rumbles, pleased with the discovery. “You like my touch that much?”
Nodding my head, my skin burns as he pulls his hand away momentarily, just so we can appreciate the shine to his digits. I watch in horror as he brings them to his lips.
It’s a salty, gross thing. “You can’t—”
“I made it happen.” He growls, and I watch in amazement as his tongue parts his fingers. “I can.”
He makes an entire show of enjoying my taste. Just the groans alone are enough to make me wonder if it really tastes that good.
“Wouldn’t it be quicker…to taste it right at the source?” My voice is shaking, my walls fluttering as I stare at his mouth. Lifting my gaze, I catch the way his pupils grow at what I’m offering. I get it, I do. Just thinking about that same slickness clinging to his beard, and his lips…
“Fuck, Pen.” He curses again before his beard tickles the crook of my neck. “I’m trying not to overwhelm you. Stop making it hard. We’re taking it slow. Baby steps.”
It sounds like he’s reminding himself more than me, but I nod anyway. When his hand returns to my pussy, I groan when one of his fingers prod at my entrance.
“Watch me, Pen.” His breath grows hotter against my skin. “Remember, I’m the one touching you.”
Blinking, I do as I’m told. Taking in his tattooed fingers, I stare at the ink hard. Faded lettering over the years passing by. “I’ve always liked your hands,” I murmur. “It’s silly, but—”
A moan consumes my next words as he slides his finger in deep. All the way to the knuckle.
“You feel that?” His lips brush my ear, his own voice shaky. He curls his finger, groaning as I clench around him. Despite my hold, he pulls back before thrusting back in. “Doesn’t hurt, does it?”
My toes curl tight, digging into the sheets as he keeps moving. A helpless shake of my head, and my body bows against his hand, surrendering to a rhythm I don’t control. Then, he amazes me by working in a second finger, stretching me in a way that is all at once shocking and perfect.
“Are you supposed to put fingers in there?” I pant, my walls fluttering wildly around the delicious, unfamiliar fullness. “I’ve never had—”
He growls, a low, displeased sound deep in his chest that makes me jerk.
Both from a spike of fear and a dizzying wave of pure arousal.
“Listen to how you suck them in, Pen.” He parts them inside me, and the slick, obscene sound echoes my own wetness.
“Your pussy was made to take them. Just my fingers, you hear?”
I must have made him angry with my naive question; I can feel a new intensity in the way he crooks his fingers, pressing against a spot deep inside I never knew existed. A spot that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.
Clawing at his wrist, I find no purchase. He doesn’t ease up. He keeps thrusting, a relentless, perfect piston motion, hitting that glorious, devastating spot over and over and over until—
I cry out, a raw, broken sound as my walls clamp viciously around his fingers. A wave of pleasure slams into me, so powerful it steals my vision. It’s an ocean, crashing down and pulling me under. I can’t breathe, can’t think, as my entire body sings a song only his touch could compose.
Overwhelmed by sensations I never knew my body could hold, I don’t realize my eyes are flooding until hot tears spill down my cheeks.
I try to stop the dam from breaking, to be the strong woman he needs, but all I can do is choke on my next breath, the aftershocks of the pleasure mingling with a sudden, inexplicable grief for what was stolen away from me.
Judge doesn’t panic. He doesn’t pull away in confusion or ask what’s wrong.
Instead, in one swift, decisive motion, he flips me over and gathers me against his chest. His arms are steel bands, crushing me to the unyielding wall of his muscle.
He’s not gentle about it; he doesn’t give me room to breathe, to hide the way my body shakes as I sob into his skin.
“I don’t know why…” I hiccup, hating myself for ruining this perfect moment. “It felt really good, Judge. It was—”
“I know.” He shushes me, his voice a gravelly rumble against my ear. He doesn’t let me finish, doesn’t let me cheapen the moment with an apology. “I know.”
His heart is a frantic drum against my cheek, pounding a wild counter-rhythm to my slowing sobs. He just holds me, his solid presence urging me to let it all out. And so I do, until the storm inside me subsides.
Even when my body stops shaking, he doesn’t let me go. He just holds me tighter, as if he knows—he has always known—exactly what I need. He’s always done this. Whenever my world has started crumbling, he has been the foundation I could stand on.
And as I sit there in his lap, wrapped in the safety of him, all I can do is hope that my unexpected tears haven’t completely ruined the fragile, beautiful thing that has finally begun to bloom between us.