Chapter 12 — The Dress Comes Off #2
The zipper reached the bottom. I slid the straps from her shoulders. The scarlet fabric sagged around her breasts, then caught at her elbows, leaving her half covered and somehow dirtier for it. I kissed the side of her neck, then her shoulder, then turned her slowly.
Her eyes were wet-bright. Not crying. Not even close. Overwhelmed in the best way.
"Still want me to take my time?"
"I want to say yes because it sounds elegant," she said. "But I also want you to rip it off me and put your mouth everywhere, so I'm conflicted."
"We'll compromise."
"I enjoy compromise when it involves my tits."
I laughed, then drew the dress down her arms and let it fall.
Penny stepped out of the scarlet pool at her feet wearing nothing but a scrap of dark red lace cut high at her hips.
Her breasts were full and high and already tight at the nipples.
Her waist was narrow, stomach flat, hips smooth, legs long and toned from a lifetime around the lake.
Her ass was small and tight and perfect, the kind of curve my hands had been remembering since the first time she brushed past me and pretended it was accidental.
I forgot language for a second.
Penny's smile turned softer.
"That good?"
"Better."
The word came out rough enough to make her breath catch.
She reached for my shirt. "Your turn."
I let her push it open, button by button. Her hands slid over my chest like she had earned the right to touch every inch of me, and the way she watched my face while she did it was almost worse than her hands. Penny liked being looked at. But she liked watching me lose my mind even more.
She shoved the shirt off my shoulders, then dragged her nails down my stomach.
My cock jerked behind my zipper.
Her eyes dropped. "Poor thing."
"Don't start feeling sorry for my dick."
"I'm not sorry." She reached for my belt. "I'm deeply invested."
I caught her wrists before she could get me open and kissed her again. She groaned into my mouth, frustrated and thrilled. I backed her to the bed until her knees hit the mattress, then followed her down.
My mouth found her breast. Penny arched hard, hand in my hair, as I sucked one nipple deep and rolled the other between my fingers. She was sensitive. More than she wanted to admit. Every pull of my mouth made her hips lift. Every bite made her gasp like the sound had been stolen from her.
"There," she breathed. "God, yes. There."
I took my time because she had asked for it and because I wanted to know what every part of her did when I touched it. Her breasts. Her ribs. The soft skin under her navel. The place where her thighs tightened as my mouth moved lower.
The lace was soaked.
"Penny."
"I know."
"You ruined these."
"I bought them to be ruined."
That should have been the end of my patience. It wasn't.
I kept her standing there for one more second because I wanted the memory clean.
Penny in lamplight, scarlet dress open around her hips, breasts lifted by the half-fallen fabric, lips swollen from my mouth, green eyes daring me to hurry and pleading with me not to.
She had spent the entire night being looked at by strangers, by friends, by men who thought wanting her meant they had a right to imagine themselves close.
None of them got this.
None of them got the little tremor in her stomach when my thumb traced the edge of the lace.
None of them got the sound she made when I bent and kissed the inside of her thigh.
None of them got to see Penny Rourke, who could make a room rearrange itself around her, grip my shoulders because my mouth was almost where she needed it and not quite there yet.
"Luke," she said, warning and prayer tangled together.
"I'm looking."
"You've been looking all night."
"Not like this."
Her breath hitched.
I kissed the lace first, right over the heat of her, and her knees bent.
My hands caught her hips. She was so wet I could taste her through the fabric, warm and sharp and private, and the knowledge went straight through me.
This wasn't the room's Penny. Not the bright, polished woman in the scarlet dress.
This was my Penny, shaking against my mouth because she wanted my tongue and my hands and my cock, and every inch of her body was telling the truth faster than she could shape the words.
I hooked my fingers into the lace and dragged it down her legs. She lifted her hips to help me, shameless and shaking, and when she was naked on my bed, the scarlet dress on the floor and her underwear in my fist, the whole night finally made sense.
All that public polish had been foreplay.
This was the truth.
I spread her thighs and lowered my mouth.
Penny broke instantly.
Her hands flew into my hair, her hips bucking as my tongue found her clit.
She was wet and hot and sweet, and the first taste of her hit me like a punch.
I licked her slowly at first, learning what made her breath stop, what made her thighs clench, what made her curse in that polished voice until the polish cracked.
"Luke." Her voice went high and ragged. "Oh, fuck. Right there. Please."
I slid two fingers into her and curled them.
Her back came off the bed.
Downstairs, somebody laughed. The sound barely reached me. Penny heard it too, because her eyes flew open and met mine.
That was hotter.
Knowing the house was full. Knowing the girls were below us. Knowing Penny was spread open on my bed, trying not to scream and failing by degrees.
I worked my mouth harder. Her fingers tightened in my hair. Her thighs shook around my head.
She tasted like heat and need. Every pass of my tongue made her wetter, made my fingers slide deeper, made her hips lift in helpless little circles against my mouth.
I pinned one thigh open with my forearm and spread her wider with my other hand, not rough, not gentle, exactly the pressure she needed.
Penny's head turned against the pillow. Her hair spilled across my sheets like pale fire.
Her breasts rose and fell hard, nipples tight, her hands moving between my hair and her own body because she couldn't decide where to hold on.
"Look at me," I said against her.
She did. Barely. Eyes glassy, mouth open.
I licked her slowly then, one long deliberate stroke from her entrance to her clit, and watched her understand exactly what I was doing to her. She liked being seen. Needed it from me. Needed to know I wasn't only taking her apart. I was watching every second of it. Learning her. Keeping her.
"You're so wet," I said.
Her cheeks flushed darker.
"Say it."
"For you," she whispered. "I'm this wet for you."
I rewarded her with my mouth until her back arched again.
"I'm close," she gasped. "I'm so close, and I want to come, but I want your cock more."
I lifted my head.
She looked wrecked. Lips swollen. Hair wild. Chest rising in sharp little pulls. Her pussy glistened in the lamplight, open and needy from my fingers and mouth.
"Say that again."
Her smile was filthy and helpless.
"I want your cock, Luke. I want to come with you inside me. I want to feel you lose control because of me."
My belt didn't survive the next ten seconds gracefully.
Penny helped with the button, the zipper, the shove of denim over my hips. When my cock sprang free, hard and wet at the tip, she went still.
Not cold. Not scared.
Focused.
"God," she whispered. "I thought about this so many times."
Her hand wrapped around me, warm and sure, and my knees almost quit.
"Penny."
"I know." Her thumb slid over the head, spreading slick. "But I want to touch you first."
She stroked me slowly, watching every change in my face. There she was. Penny Rourke, naked on my bed, no audience but me, still performing a little because performance was part of how she told the truth. She wanted to see the evidence. Wanted to watch me go hard and stupid and hungry in her hands.
I let her have about fifteen seconds of that before I covered her body with mine.
The head of my cock pressed against her. She sucked in a breath and hooked both legs around my hips.
"Ready?" I asked.
She cupped my face, all the laughter gone warm and deep.
"I've been ready since before I knew how to admit it."
I kissed her as I pushed inside.
***
Penny took me in one slow stroke.
The first inch made her gasp. The second made her nails bite into my shoulders.
By the time I was buried to the root, her mouth was open against mine and her whole body had gone tight around me, pussy gripping in hot wet pulses that almost ended the chapter of my life where I considered myself a man with discipline.
"Breathe," I said, because I needed to say it to both of us.
She laughed once, breathless and wild. "You're huge."
"You okay?"
"I'm amazing. Don't you dare stop."
I moved.
Slow at first. Because she was tight enough to make every inch feel dangerous. Because I wanted to watch her face when I pulled back and pushed in again. Because Penny had been seen by an entire party and chosen me as the only man who got to see this.
Her body opened under me, not shy, not hesitant, but hungry. Each thrust dragged a moan from her. Her breasts bounced under me, nipples hard, skin flushed all the way down her chest. I braced on one arm and took one breast in my hand, thumb working her nipple as I drove into her.
She felt unreal. Not delicate. Not distant.
Alive under me in a way that made every part of my body pay attention.
Her pussy gripped the full length of my cock on every stroke, slick and tight and greedy, and the more she took, the more she wanted.
I watched my cock slide out of her, wet with her, then disappear back inside until my hips met hers and her breath broke.
"Watch," I said.
Her eyes dropped between us.
That almost ruined me.