Jacob
Finished with my walk-through at the chemical pumps, I exit the building to grab some lunch.
A chilly gust smacks into me and puts Penelope’s gorgeous, naked body in my mind again. I relive that moment when I caressed her smooth skin and felt the damp heat of her pussy against my hand.
Fuck. It took immense willpower not to touch her. If I’d done that, I would’ve slipped my fingers inside her. Probably even more.
And that fucking terrifies me.
Since I never want to be falsely accused again, I’m careful around women. I keep safe distances from them, never touch them, and even avoid being alone with them if I can.
Penelope is off-limits, the one woman I should be extra careful around, given our history. Twice in a span of hours, I came pretty close to being the kind of man who should be in prison.
You’re not that kind of man.
I thought so too. This morning was a disturbing revelation.
What kind of guy comes up with the wildly inappropriate idea to force his ex-stepdaughter to get naked for him?
What kind of guy feels up a woman almost half his age against her will, then offers her money for sex?
What kind of guy doesn’t feel even an ounce of remorse for such fucked up behaviour?
The kind who shouldn’t be among civilized society.
This is the second time my attempt to humiliate Penelope turned against me. Punishing her is leading us down a perilous path at reckless speed, and the goal doesn’t seem worth the risks.
Yet the voice that says “keep going” is louder than the one urging me to turn back.
Inside the operations building, I head to the break room. Lewis is playing cards at one of the tables with Byron, another maintenance guy. Cynthia, who’s been working the front desk since the dawn of time, sits across from them chewing cashew nuts while reading a book on her e-reader.
I glimpse the passage, “She lustfully mewled as the Viking brute pistoned his engorged, throbbing manmeat deep into her love cave with savage fervour…” in large font before I look away with a soft chuckle.
Jesus. My innocent eyes weren’t prepared for that.
“Hey, Jake, you seen or heard from Fiona recently?” Lewis asks as I sit at the table beside the window.
“Not since Friday.”
A blessing from the universe. I’m not looking forward to the awkwardness when we encounter each other again at some point.
Lewis strokes his beard. “That’s what everybody’s saying. She didn’t come in on Monday, and she’s not answering her phone or returning anyone’s calls. It’s not like her.”
“She’s probably spending all her time with her new fella of the week,” Byron says. “Another guy taking a ride on the town bike.”
“What the fuck, Byron.” Lewis scowls. “Why would you say something like that?”
“Because it’s true.”
“She likes to have fun. Big deal.”
“She plays guys and makes them cheat too.” Bitterness drips from Byron’s voice. “Fun for her, not so fun for the people she hurts.”
Lewis picks up a card from the pack, an uncomfortable look on his face.
“I’ll give you that, but calling her ‘the town bike’ is still messed up, man. I don’t wanna hear that shit.”
What a way to learn Fiona is more trouble than I suspected. Thank fuck I bailed on that date.
I unwrap the sandwich I bought and I’m about to take a bite when Lewis turns to me.
“I heard you have company. That girl who was in the accident the other night.”
Of course. In a small town like Wenora, even the dullest news spreads like wildfire.
“Who told you that?”
“Keith, Mel’s cousin. He said he drove your lady friend to your place after she was done at the hospital.”
That fucking guy.
First, his pissy behaviour that night he brought Penelope to me. Now, he’s telling my business to probably all and sundry.
“He also said you were an asshole,” Lewis continues with a chuckle. “I told him you’re not so bad once he gets to know you.”
“He’s no ray of sunshine either.”
“Yeah, he gets a little hot a little too easily sometimes.”
“I win.” Byron lays down four face cards and a ten of clubs on the table. Lewis ignores him and smirks at me as I bite into my sandwich.
“So is your lady friend just a friend? Keith said she was pretty.”
Friends? Far from it, Lewis. She’s the girl who once ruined my life, now I’m screwing with hers while wanting to screw her too. And if you think that’s fucked up, it gets worse—she was once my stepdaughter.
I swallow my bite of my sandwich.
“Yep. Just a friend.”
* * *
Another snowstorm is on its way, but I’d be lying if I said that’s why I’m eager to get home.
I turn into my driveway as the twilight sky becomes indigo. It’s strange coming home again to warm amber lights glowing from inside the house.
Yesterday, it was unsettling. Today, there’s something comforting about it. A better experience than dark, empty windows staring back at me.
Accustomed to solitude for years, I never realized I’ve been sort of lonely until Penelope showed up. I like knowing there’s someone inside waiting for me even though I distrust them.
The porch light flicks on as I approach the stairs. A small cardboard package sits on the bench.
Same-day delivery promise kept.
I grab the package when I’m on the porch and enter the house. A delicious, savoury scent welcomes me. I’m going to have to be careful. Not only is Penelope’s presence interfering with my exercise routine, her tasty cooking is another attack on my fitness.
Penelope is sitting cross-legged on the floor like she was meditating before I arrived. Any good vibes she received are all gone now. Her eyes glitter with dislike.
Her naked body fills my mind again. I look away from her and focus on taking off my jacket and shoes.
“Welcome home, dear. You came just in time for supper. How was your day?”
Sarcasm soaks Penelope’s voice and I chuckle as I hang up my jacket. I hate to admit it but this girl is funny. Time changed the reserved girl I remember into a woman armed with a quick wit.
I don’t know how I feel about this. Enjoying her sense of humour seems a lot more dangerous than my attraction to her.
I turn and hold up the package. “If I’m supposed to be your husband in your scenario, then I bought the perfect gift for you, darling.”
Her brow tightens. “What is it?”
Oh, she’s right to be suspicious.
“You’ll find out soon. I think you’ll love it.”
I set the package down on the kitchen counter then go and grab a quick shower. When I return, Penelope follows me with her gaze as I go to the kitchen drawer where I keep a box knife.
I slice open the package and take out the sealed plastic baggie, cutting that open too.
Perfect.
It looks exactly like what I ordered just before I fell asleep last night.
I wipe it off with a slightly damp paper towel and hold it folded in my fist as I turn around. Penelope watches me, her gaze sharp with alertness, her body rigid.
“Come here.”
With obvious reluctance, she stands and ventures closer, eyeing my closed hand with suspicion.
“Did the delivery person knock on the door?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Did you answer it?”
She folds her arms, her lips pursed.
“What did you see on your camera?”
I got the movement notification when the delivery showed up. I didn’t get anymore.
“Turn around and lift your hair.”
A beat passes before she obeys, slowly turning her back to me and gathering her hair in one hand. She pulls it up into a loose ponytail, exposing her neck. An urge to brush my lips against her skin comes over me.
I focus on the task at hand. In my hand. I unfurl my fist and wrap the black leather collar around Penelope’s neck. She startles and attempts to pull away.
“Stay where you are.”
Penelope stiffens. The collar’s clips make a gentle snap in the tense silence.
An innocent sound with an ominous message.
She releases her hair, the dark, wavy strands shielding her neck as it falls down her back and around her shoulders. She remains perfectly still but her hands are clenched at her sides.
“You’ll wear the collar at all times. You’re only allowed to take it off temporarily for showers.”
Penelope faces me, indignant fire in her eyes. I’m surprised I’m not a permanent scorch mark on the wooden floor. Whenever she looks at me like she wants to hit me, an urge to kiss her overcomes me.
I feel it right now.
I want to give her a hard kiss, and when she fights me off, I would pin her against the nearest wall and make her accept it. Take the anger she has for me and the bitterness I feel toward her and turn it into something explosive.
“This isn’t a gift. It’s your version of an orange jumpsuit. Also, I don’t love it.”
Such a smart girl.
The collar is a simple leather strap with a circular silver pendant suspended in the middle. It goes well with her black graphic t-shirt that reads, I’LL SLEEP WHEN I’M UNDEAD, a hunched zombie beside the last word.
“You should be grateful. Orange jumpsuits aren’t flattering, but the collar looks good on you.”
“You want me to be grateful for the constant reminder I’m your prisoner?”
“You’re lucky I haven’t said it’s the only thing you’re allowed to wear.”
Damn, I shouldn’t have said that. The image of her walking around the house nude in just the collar leaps to my mind, and it’s fucking amazing. The scandalized look on her face says she strongly disagrees.
“We should eat before the food gets cold,” she says, though her chilly voice probably made that happen.
Penelope moves to the stove, her expression tight with renewed displeasure. I sit at the table instead of helping because I want to watch her. It’s one of my favourite things to do now. I like that it makes her nervous.
She’s like a little rabbit, moving slow and careful around the kitchen, throwing quick, wary glances at me. She flinches when she closes the cupboard doors too hard or when a utensil clatters on the counter. If I were to suddenly stand up, she would drop everything and bolt.
She’s behaving like prey because she sees you as a predator.
Of course I am. I’m hungry, and not for the food she’s serving us to eat.
The meal I want is what she showed me when she took off her clothes this morning. I want to lick, suck, and bite every perfect inch of her. Swallow her moans and gasps as she takes every inch of me.
Good god.
Penelope unleashed something deviant inside me. I can’t remember the last time I had intense, horned up thoughts like this. It’s wrong as hell to have them for this particular woman.
The voice of caution is getting quieter. It’ll be silent pretty soon at this rate. Two weeks is a long time to put up with unresolved lust. I can already predict the headlines if I fuck up and the media finds out.
DISGRACED FORMER CEO, JACOB SHAW, SEXUALLY ASSAULTS HIS FORMER STEPDAUGHTER AFTER BEING ACCUSED OF DOING THE SAME TO HER MOTHER!
Give her the money and send her away. Save her, save yourself.
Unfortunately, while my sense of self-preservation is strong, my thirst for Penelope’s comeuppance is stronger.
Penelope sets the food down on the table and takes a seat. She’s silent as she eats, her gaze fixed on her plate. A stark difference from yesterday when she was warm and chatty.
She was buoyed by hope she would get what she wanted from me. Now she knows she was holding on to a monkey’s paw when she made her wish.
I take a sip of my water. “How was your day?”
“How you wanted it to be.” Her gaze remains on her plate. “Mind-numbingly boring.”
“Freedom from distraction allows room for self-reflection.”
She finally looks at me, annoyance tightening her brow as she points at the living room with her fork.
“Oh, that’s why the TV that looks brand new mysteriously won’t turn on?”
“TV time must be earned.”
“Earned how?” Suspicion sharpens her tone.
“Through good behaviour.”
“Exactly what kind of good behaviour?”
“Any that pleases me. None that displeases me.”
Her suspicious stare lingers on me. I’m thinking what she’s thinking too, try as I might to stop myself.
Good behaviour that isn’t good for the two of us. The kind that involves her on her knees or on her back. Preferably on my face.
She returns her attention to her plate, fiddling with the collar while she eats without enthusiasm. Then she pauses and looks at me.
“I want you to tell me the truth.”
“About what?”
She hesitates. “Will you ever stop hating me?”
Her question catches me off-guard and her solemn stare makes me uncomfortable.
“I don’t hate you, Penelope. I never did.” I stab one of the baby carrots on my plate and push it around. “I hated your mother, but I only feel resentment toward you.”
“I’m pretty sure hate and resentment are the same.”
“Not to me. Hate is straightforward. Someone you hate is someone who doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t give them a second of your time if it benefited them in the slightest. Resentment is complicated. Someone who matters to you made you feel like you didn’t matter to them and this imbalance angers you.”
“You mattered to me,” she says quietly. “You still do.”
“Because I have something you want.”
A moment passes before she responds, her features resolute.
“I’ll show you I’m not who you think I am, and you’ll change your opinion of me.”
Penelope’s words linger in my thoughts as she resumes eating. My opinion of her is already changing. I’m not sure if it’s for the better or the worse. I dislike that my attraction to her is gradually displacing my distrust and clouding my judgment.
She takes a sip of her drink.
“Can I go outside after dinner? I want some fresh air.”
“You can open a window.”
“I need to stretch my legs or I’ll go crazy.”
“Barely one day and you already have cabin fever?” Then I give her request some thought. “There’s a snowstorm coming but we can go for a quick walk.”
She perks up. “What about my phone or my tablet? Can I use one of them too?”
“No.”
“Just a little—”
“Keep pushing and I’ll go for that walk by myself.”
Her expression turns sullen and she finishes her food in silence.
After dinner, Penelope and I dress for our trip outside. I frown at her jacket. She was shivering the entire time we were at the tow yard yesterday.
“You knew you were driving north, yet you still wore such a thin jacket?”
“Believe me, I’m mad at myself for not thinking ahead too.”
I grab one of my sweaters and hand it to her.
“Put this on over it so you don’t freeze out there.”
She takes my sweater and pulls it on. The grey material swallows her up, her pretty face a small oval within the hood.
It’s amusing and endearing, and her gaze holds me captive. Not for the first time, that lurking sadness in her eyes calls to me. I have an overwhelming urge to answer it when I look at her lush lips.
I could kiss her all better.
I quickly turn and yank open the door. The chilly breeze blessedly sweeps away temptation.