Chapter 15
Penelope
The taste of him?
Spectacular.
Salty and tangy, leaving me trembling from the power of Christian’s orgasm. I’d never considered myself very good at giving a man head, but if his reaction meant anything, I’d learned a thing or two by reading books.
How strangely appropriate.
I’d found a way of cutting through Christian’s armor, which was exactly what I felt like I’d done. He was a man who preferred holding all the cards, intent on ruling the world. That much didn’t need to be read in some glossy brochure about his accomplishments.
When he entered a room, you could sense his aura, which was even more intense than his power.
Being able to strip a little of that away left me feeling victorious.
As I tilted my head back, running a single finger around my lips, I noticed a slight faraway look in his eyes. What could he be thinking? With the powerful aura oozing from the man, I also gathered a sense of even more danger than I’d perceived before.
There was no reason for me to think this way, but it was as if he was a caged lion, the lock holding the powerful predator already rusted through. I don’t know what it was about him, but the images in my mind were entirely different than they had been.
Not that I was frightened of him. Quite the contrary. I had a sense of safety that hadn’t occurred with any man, especially with Carrington. He’d been too flippant about our passion.
I’d found out the hard way the reason why.
He just hadn’t given a shit.
Christian took a series of deep breaths, one hand gripping the arm of the chair with force.
Only when I touched his leg did he finally snap out of whatever trance he’d been in.
He took a gulp of his drink before placing the glass on the table with a hard thud.
His Adam’s apple didn’t move, which meant he was holding the liquid in his mouth.
He slipped his arms under mine, lifting me easily until my legs were straddling his.
There was such an unsettling look in his eyes, yet as before, I wasn’t anxious around him in the least. Quite the opposite.
I was excited, tingling all over as if intoxicated and he was my drug. The only way I could survive.
How strange when I’d worked so hard to swear off men.
He slipped his hand around the back of my neck, forcing our lips together. He was still dominating, yet almost sensual as he captured my mouth.
The rush of cool liquid was refreshing, but I was still tingling all over. I rolled one hand over his shoulder, twirling one finger in his hair. The silkiness created goosebumps.
He was that enigmatic, creating another crazy wave of desire.
Much like the spanking had done.
I’d been so shocked when he’d pulled me over his lap.
Never in a million years would I have anticipated he would do something so commanding.
But when he’d brought his hand down the first couple of times, my pussy had reacted first. Throbbing to the core.
Aching to the point of shivering the entire time.
The act of discipline hadn’t been about passion, but something far more controlling. Sting had shifted into anguish, but even so, I’d been elated. How was that possible?
As soon as I swallowed the liquid, I thought he’d break the kiss, but he didn’t. His fingertips dug into my scalp as he held me, his tongue exploring my mouth. Being lightheaded around him, it was as if I was losing a small part of myself.
And letting go felt… right.
It wasn’t just the heat of his touch that made me shiver; it was the sudden, breathtaking realization of my own power and vulnerability colliding.
The rest of the world dissolved into absolute static.
There was only the cadence of his breath, the crushing, magnetic pull between us, and the wild, intoxicating freedom of letting myself burn completely.
Something that had never occurred in my life.
This was an awakening, a rebirth of someone I’d thought should never see the light of day again.
When he pulled our lips apart, my breathing remained shallow.
He held my head only inches from his, clearly not wanting to let me escape.
The feel of his heated breath was incredible, the scent of his aftershave and the hint of scotch and something even darker and more unforgiving keeping my heart racing.
In his intensity, especially in his eyes, I could tell he was waiting to see my reactions. There was a toxic need already forming that I couldn’t explain, but that was fine by me.
His upper lip curled as he pulled back further, easing his hold on my neck and brushing the rough pads of his fingers down my spine. Every move he made was possessive.
I was torn with my feelings, but mostly, my desire was more out of control than ever before. With the taste of his cum lingering in my mouth, the deep core throb only increased.
He proved how much he wasn’t interested in taking no for an answer, digging his fingers into my hips and lifting me so I was standing on the chair.
My reaction was involuntary, laughing nervously as my body swayed.
“Don’t worry, sweet Penelope. I would never let you fall.” With the deep baritone rumbling in my chest, I took several deep breaths. For whatever reason, I was suddenly feeling more vulnerable around him.
His gaze felt entirely too perceptive, as if he could read the hidden anxieties I kept locked behind a confident smile. I felt painfully exposed, yet inexplicably safe, standing here with my walls completely dismantled.
He had his head leaning against the back of the chair, peering up at me. Whether he was giving me time to adjust or determining his intentions was unreadable, but I quickly discovered my punishment had been just the beginning of providing me with extreme pleasure.
With a hard jerk, my pussy was just in front of his face, his nostrils flaring.
I bit my lower lip to keep from moaning, feeling lost yet found all at the same time.
There was a profound vulnerability in admitting I needed him. For so long, I had prided myself on my independence but letting him in by allowing him to see the soft, uncertain parts of me felt less like weakness and more like the bravest thing I’d ever done.
How long the feeling would last I didn’t know, but with the first deep breath he took, holding it in his lungs, all the weakness from before, the sense of being lost was replaced with a burning desire so powerful it felt as if I was flying.
The second he darted the tip of his tongue across my clit, I cinched my eyes shut, allowing the pleasure to take over where embarrassment had held me captive before.
The first touch made my breath catch sharply.
He knew exactly what he was doing, his tongue finding the perfect cadence of pressure and speed.
I sensed he was ravenous, not only by the guttural sounds slipping past his lips, but also by his firm grip as he held me. His fingers were digging into my skin. There was no way I was going anywhere.
His tongue worked magic, wildly claiming my pussy while I struggled with some sense of why I shouldn’t enjoy every moment of what he was doing. I finally gripped his shoulders, laughing nervously as he feasted.
He thrust his tongue inside, taking his time lapping my cream while keeping me spread wide open for him. Every so often, I noticed him peering up at me. There was so much darkness in his eyes and for those precious minutes of enjoyment, I could swear he was devoid of a soul.
How odd for me to think such a thing when he was providing me with so much pleasure.
The gentle, deliberate rhythm of his tongue swept away all lingering doubts. Every stroke felt like a quiet reassurance, a testament to his patience. I was still laughing, but with utter joy as I tangled my fingers in his hair, anchoring myself as the tension in my chest began to unwind.
The moment was intensely wild, pushing me past my comfort zone yet holding me in a sweet line of content that had me craving more.
I bucked against him while digging my fingers into his shoulders.
That was the moment I realized just how decadent the scene was.
He was fully clothed while I was standing completely naked in front of a window with light bathing my reflection.
Anyone with binoculars could easily see what we were doing.
The thought was truly delicious in a way that completely outweighed anything I’d done before. He was content with taking his time, pulling me even closer until I was once again unsteady on my feet.
The world narrowed to the sharp contrast of the cool living room air and the heat of his mouth.
His touch was a steady, rhythmic pulse that remapped my senses.
I closed my eyes, tracking the deliberate pressure, feeling a slow-building friction that threatened to scatter my thoughts entirely.
Breathing became a secondary thought as the internal coil tightened.
I tilted my head, allowing a series of slow and steady breaths to scatter around us.
Yet that didn’t last long, the slow pulsing sensations erupting deep within. Where I hadn’t wanted to feel lost before, that’s exactly what was happening as he brought me close to the edge of nirvana and pulled back.
“Oh, yes,” I whispered, struggling to hold on just a little longer. The pleasure was so intense that I couldn’t care less if I was breathing.
The growing sense of urgency was unlike anything I’d experienced, pushing me into letting go all over again. I felt weightless, the intimate moment captivating both my mind and every physical reaction.
He didn’t bother to hide his breathlessness. That ragged, low moan slipping from his lips wasn’t just a physical reaction. The guttural nature of the sound was pure, unguarded honesty, and it pulled me deeper into the rhythm.
Sound vibrated right through my skin. It wasn’t a sound so much as a physical pull, tightening the coil in my stomach until I couldn’t think of anything but him.
I continued bucking against him, throwing my head back as the pressure built to a point that could no longer be controlled.