Chapter 10
Penelope
The hope that surged within me when I stepped out of my house Monday morning to find an Uber already waiting and paid for to take me to work completely vanished when Jacob ran away after he spotted my arrival. Jacob might feel bad enough about putting me out of a car to pay for my rides to and from school, but apparently, not bad enough to let me get within ten feet of him.
My attempt at seducing him on Tuesday was both laughable and pathetic, and I stopped bothering to pick out clothes that looked halfway decent on Wednesday. There’s no point. I’m done. Cooked, as the kids say. The fact that Jacob doesn’t want me has finally gotten through my head, and I don’t even look his way when his handsome, hulking presence passes me in the hall.
The best I can hope for now is that our forty-eight-hour fling will lead to a positive pregnancy test. If I am pregnant, then I’ll accept whatever Jacob wants to do, including handing off the baby through a third party so we can co-parent our child without ever having to talk face-to-face if that’s what he’d prefer. I wouldn’t blame him or try to pressure him for more.
If I do, devastatingly, get my period, then I’ll finally put myself back out on the dating scene, as depressing as that is, and find someone willing to impregnate me as soon as possible. I’ll have to close my eyes and pretend whoever I’m with is Jacob so I don’t throw up, but if that’s what it takes, I’ll do it.
* * *
Sandra hovers around me like a mother hen, peppering me with questions about Jacob and why I’ve been dressing like I’ve just rolled out of bed for the last three days. I fob her off, knowing I’ll eventually tell her the whole sordid tale, but for now, I can’t dredge up enough energy to do so. The only thing I can do after the worst week of my teaching career is count my blessings that I don’t have to see anyone for a whole weekend.
My Friday night consists of lying in bed and drowning myself in self-pity and a jar of maraschino cherries while my brain conjures up the scent of citrus and sandalwood in the air, further tormenting me. I binge-watch my favorite episodes of Bridgerton on my laptop and bawl every time the male love interests push away the women they love. After a particularly brutal crying session following the happy ending of the lucky Penelope’s season, I close my eyes and pretend for half a second that I’m in her place with Jacob in Colin’s place.
I’m too weak to bring myself to crawl across the bedroom and into the shower after accidentally spilling my jar of leftover juice, now empty of cherries, on my chest. I strip my wet eight-dollar Walmart moo-moo off and toss it over the side of the bed after wiping up as much of the sticky, sweet substance as I can, then let the heavy darkness that’s been creeping in blissfully pull me under.
Jacob
From my crouched position in the dark bathroom, peering through the cracked open door, my mouth salivates in anticipation of licking the juice off of Penelope’s bare, pink-tipped tits. She grows drowsier with every sip from her glass of water with the crushed-up half of a sleeping pill I stirred in when she was in the kitchen searching for chocolate to go with her cherries an hour ago.
It was a race against the clock getting to Penelope’s house after work before her Uber dropped her off. I parked around the corner and used my spare key to slip inside her house, then searched her bedroom for the ropes she used on me. The treasure trove of sex toys I found on the top shelf of her closet was a windfall I hadn’t expected, and I have big plans for them.
Within minutes of discarding her adorable, pink flamingo nightgown, Penelope passes out in the middle of her bed, dried tears trailing down her puffy cheeks. Exiting the bathroom, I strip out of my clothes quickly, blood pounding hot in my veins, and unwind the soft coils of rope. After securing one limp wrist to the corner of her headboard, then the other, I toss the chocolate candy wrappers and close her laptop, placing it on her nightstand, then pull her quilt off, folding it and setting it aside since things are about to get very, very messy.
Penelope flips her head from one side to the other when I work her white panties down her legs, then stuff them in the pocket of my pants on the floor before returning to her side. Instead of tieing her ankles to the corners at the foot of the bed as she did to me, I loop and knot the ropes behind her knees so that they’re pressed up toward her shoulders and out without any slack, her pussy bared and ready to be feasted upon.
I kneel on the bed, drop the box of toys next to her hip, and lick every drop of cherry juice from her tits, working my way down to her pussy. Laying on my stomach, I slide my hands under her gorgeous ass and squeeze the globes, then spear my tongue as far as it will go inside the cunt I plan to spend the rest of my life worshipping. The first taste of her silken flesh has my eyes rolling back in my head, and I turn into a frantic beast, hungry for more of her taste. I lick and suck and nip her from hole to clit and back again until Penelope is writhing in her sleep, tugging on the ropes.
It’s when I shove her purple vibrating dildo, turned to the second highest setting, inside her wet pussy while I suck her clit with as much force as I can muster that she finally orgasms, her own screams of pleasure ripping her from the depths of her chemically induced sleep. Not only am I rewarded by the sight of her hooded hazel eyes when I shove the dildo in further and turn it to the highest setting, not giving her a moment’s reprieve, but I’m also gifted with her squirting and releasing a strangled cry when I bring her to a second climax.
“Holy shit. Did you know you could do that, Mama?”
I don’t expect an answer, seeing as the only thing Penelope can do is sob brokenly and beg me to stop as I start pumping the dildo in and out of her, torturing her with unending pleasure. Long, even strokes and the twist of my wrist until I get the angle just right has her squirting again, though not as much this time. Her stomach muscles clench and cramp as she tries to jerk her hips away, unable to close her legs. She fights the ropes binding her in position when I press a second, smaller vibrator to her clit, continuing to work the dildo in and out of her until her eyes roll back, and she loses consciousness after another screaming orgasm.
It’s a fucking gorgeous scene, a dark puddle of cum and squirt and spit pooling under her ass, soaking her otherwise white sheets. I’ve got plans for that ass. But first, she needs water—and not the drugged kind. My healed, hard dick swings like a lead pipe between my legs on my way to and from the kitchen, and I fist it when I return to Penelope’s side to keep from cumming and wasting it on her face or tits.
Power surges in my bloodstream to see her spread out in the exact position I left her in, and a new fantasy emerges in my mind’s eye—one of leaving Penelope tied up for hours with a vibrator in her cunt set to a level just below what she needs to cum, driving her delirious with desire until I sneak into her bedroom in the dark and drive my cock inside her, finally giving her the release that she craves.
All in due time .
I bring the fresh, untampered glass of water to Penelope’s parted lips, position the straw between them, and tickle her cheek until her long lashes flutter. “Drink.”
“J-Jacob?” Her voice is scratchy, and she can barely form the word between sips.
“Mmhmm.”
“Why?” It’s just the barest breath of sound.
A slow grin spreads from ear to ear while I watch her throat move as she swallows the water, imagining her swallowing my cum in the future. “Payback, Penelope.”