Chapter Seven
Sunlight brushed her skin and warmth encased her. So warm. She couldn’t help but rub against the strong body she lay next to.
Penny opened her eyes. Sometime in the night, she’d turned and cuddled close to him. Damon’s arm was around her, holding her to his chest, her arm around him. Her cheek rested against his heart. She could hear it. Damaged as it was, it still beat strong against her ear. She didn’t like to think about what had happened the day before. She’d watched him fall, watched his big body stop and then lose control. Damon shouldn’t ever lose control. He needed it so badly.
She knew she should move, but she couldn’t help it. She gave herself a moment to let the heat of his body wash over hers. All the reasons to hold herself apart from him were still there, but it suddenly seemed silly to not enjoy the man. She’d denied herself so much. Yes, there would be heartache, but wouldn’t it be better to ache than to feel nothing?
“Did you sleep all right?”
Penny looked up, startled, but when she would have moved away from him, Damon’s arm tightened slightly. “I did.”
He closed his eyes and sighed. “I did, too.”
Silence stretched out between them, but it was strangely comfortable. She let herself relax again. “When did I end up here?”
His chest moved as he breathed, and she found herself breathing in time to him. Her heart seemed to synch as well. “After you fell asleep. You tried to take all the blankets. I had to let you close to me just to stay warm.”
“I’m not used to sleeping with someone.” She let her eyes drift up.
Morning light softened him, making the gray of his eyes seem almost blue as they opened and he looked down at her. “The walking corpse never slept over?”
She stifled a laugh. Damon had a way with words, especially when he was insulting someone. He and his friend Ian had insulted each other all night. She might never understand men. “That’s a horrible thing to call him.”
Damon smiled a little. “Peter never slept over?”
“He said he slept better alone. He tried once but I snored and he left.” That was a terrible thought. “Did I keep you up?”
“With your little snuffles? No. He was an idiot, love.” He laid his hand over hers and took a long breath, seeming to settle back in. “I liked sleeping with you. I haven’t slept with anyone in a very long time. In fact, there hasn’t been anyone at all.”
That was a bit hard for her to believe. “Anyone?”
“I haven’t actually had sex since the shooting. I was worried the damn thing wouldn’t work, but I think it’s safe to say it’s waking up again.” His voice got serious. “I liked it. Last night, that is. I liked holding you. I liked how we kept each other warm. Kiss me, Penelope.”
“Damon.” It was a bad idea.
“You can’t even kiss me? We’re going to struggle on the boat if you won’t kiss me.”
He was right about that. She pushed herself up and looked down at him. He was a deliciously gorgeous beast of a man, every inch of him muscled and lean. His hair had lost its former perfection and a lock of black silk lay across his forehead.
What was she really afraid of? She was afraid of losing herself in him and then being utterly adrift when everything was over. She was afraid of not coming out on the other side of the affair with a whole heart, but she had agreed to this. She’d said yes, and that meant being braver than the old Penny. The old Penny never woke up warm and cradled against a man. The old Penny had accepted far less than was her due.
The old Penny would have given this man a peck and then run away. She didn’t want to be the old Penny any longer.
She reached out and touched him, her fingers on his face. Maybe she was looking at everything wrong. Maybe instead of holding back, she should take every moment and revel in it. He looked at her solemnly as she brushed her fingertips along his jawline, his whiskers tickling against her skin. She studied him, taking her time to memorize the way he looked. A sharp blade of a nose. Sensual lips.
He didn’t move, didn’t say a word, simply allowed her to explore, though she could feel the tension in him. Was he truly afraid she wouldn’t kiss him? Could a man like him really want her?
She couldn’t know if she never tried. This wasn’t a problem she could logic her way out of. She had to feel her way through it.
She let her lips find his skin, first his cheek and then along his jaw. She placed a kiss on his nose and one between his eyes. She smoothed back his hair.
“Penelope, I don’t want you to treat me like a boy you’re trying to soothe.”
She wasn’t going to let him rush her. “Hush, Damon. I’m enjoying this.”
His eyes flared slightly. “When we’re on a proper footing, I’ll spank you for that.”
Yes, she thought he’d do a lot of things when they were on “a proper footing.” It was why she had to enjoy the time she had with him now. “Because I’m a brat?”
She’d read the term, heard Ian complain about his wife being one. Of course, he’d said it all while petting her and holding her.
Those delicious lips curled up in a sexy grin. “I think you could be a spectacular brat, love. If you wanted to.”
She wanted to. All her life she’d been the perfect daughter, the one who got good grades and did her duty. Had she ever really grown out of the role and tried being a woman? She brushed her mouth across his forehead and then finally let her lips find his own. Warm, soft, but so firm. He let her have her way, allowing her to play along his skin.
Emboldened, she let her hand drift down, caressing the strong column of his neck and making her way to his shoulders and chest. A light dusting of hair covered his torso, making a neat triangle toward his abs. She traced the flat discs of his nipples, watching them peak the minute she got close. She let her hand move lower to his lean stomach. He twitched under her fingertips. The blanket covered him from his hips down, but it tented, his cock stretching the material up.
“Yes, that’s what you do to me.” His hands were fisting the sheet underneath him as though he had to hold on or he would reach for her and take over. “Seven months without a whisper and now he wants to play.”
He was giving her a gift, allowing her control when he needed it himself. He strained under her hands, his hips lifting when she got close.
This was why she was afraid. Because she didn’t want to stop with kisses. She wouldn’t want to stop at the end of the mission. She might never want to stop exploring Damon Knight.
“Give me more,” he demanded. “Kiss me. Use your tongue. Please, pet. I want it.”
She knew she should stop, but she couldn’t turn down his plea. There was a desperate quality to his tone that made her feel sexy, desirable. Maybe he was manipulating her, but he couldn’t fake the erection. It was difficult to believe that she was the cause, but the evidence was staring her in the face.
She lowered her head back to his and let her tongue run across his plump bottom lip, feeling her power when he shivered beneath her.
More. She wanted more. Her body was starting to sing in the way it only ever had for him. Her p-ssy softened, starting to pulse and get wet. She couldn’t deny it. Damon was her weakness, her odd joy, the one man who could bring her out of herself and into the world. She didn’t even want to deny it or him.
She let her tongue surge in, rubbing against his. Never before had she been so brazen, so bold, but then she hadn’t ever wanted anyone the way she did Damon.
They kissed, his tongue playing along hers, making her heart beat in a rapid rhythm. Alive. Maybe it was a farce on his part, but it was real for her, and she couldn’t let it rush by without reveling in it. Without saying yes to it.
“Let me take over,” Damon whispered, his deep voice pure seduction. “I can make it so good for you. We could be good together. So f*cking good. Touch me. Touch my cock. Stroke me.”
She wanted to see it again, loved looking at him. One last kiss on his lips and she forced herself up.
“Damn it.”
She ignored him and pulled at the sheet, tugging it down. He hissed a little as his cock was exposed, but she couldn’t miss the satisfied smile on his face. He pressed his hips up, squirming a bit, like she had in the bathroom at her cousin’s wedding. Her first real orgasm. He’d given that to her. Didn’t she owe him something?
A gasp came out of her mouth as she really caught sight of his cock for the first time. Never before had she had the time to look at her lover. Peter had wanted the lights off and to get it done fairly quickly, but Damon seemed to want to take his time, to revel in it, to treat it like a leisure activity he never wanted to finish up.
His cock was a thing of beauty. Long and thick. There was a drop of pearly liquid seeping from the tiny slit on the tip of his dick. His hips were lean, with lovely notches that proved just how much he liked to work out.
“Do you like what you see?” His voice was low, a hard groan coming out of his mouth.
“You know how beautiful you are.” He had to. She was sure a thousand women had told him.
His hand came out, touching a place just below his heart. “I know I’m scarred.”
There was a red puckered place right below his heart, to the left of his breast bone. It was a nasty scar, the one that might still cost him his career. That mark was the reason he couldn’t run the way he used to, couldn’t perform in the field. He should have had a few more years, but the injury had aged him.
It hadn’t made him any less desirable. His flaws did nothing but make him more open, easier to get close to. She forced herself to look away from his cock. It was beautiful, but he was more than a hot cock. He was a man who’d been hurt, who had the same strengths and weaknesses as everyone else, who needed more than just sex even if he wouldn’t admit it.
She ran her fingers across his scar. He’d almost died. She couldn’t imagine what he’d gone through. His best mate had walked in and calmly put a bullet in him. He’d been forced to endure months and months of trying to get back to normal. Everything that made up Damon Knight had been put in jeopardy. She couldn’t help but think about the picture in his office. That smiling boy and parents who loved him. He’d lost them so young. He’d been alone in the world. Only a child, but orphaned.
When her mother had died, she’d felt her aloneness and she’d been an adult. Her entire body had ached with the loss, but he’d been truly alone, a child with no one to care for him.
Then he’d opened up and his best mate had betrayed him brutally, the evidence right beneath her fingers.
Damon needed to be healed. Not from his physical ailments, but from the wounds that came from the ones he loved always leaving him.
She leaned over and pressed her lips to his scar. There was a line that moved in and out of the circle. His surgery. Someone had saved his life. Someone had pulled the bullet out of him so he could be with her right now, in this moment.
Her tongue came out to trace the scar. That scar was important. It meant he was alive. It meant he was here.
His hand sank into her hair. He held her hard against his skin. “God, keep your mouth on me. Penelope, I need it. I know you don’t believe me, but I want you. I want everything you have to give me.”
Though it was so dumb, she licked the scar, trailing over to his nipple and then giving him a baby bite.
Damon hissed and the hand in her hair tightened. “Yes, that’s what I want. I want Penelope Cash’s bad girl. I want her to f*ck my cock. I want her to crave me.”
She already craved him. Bad girl. Good girl. Everything Penelope Cash was wanted Damon Knight.
He was laid out for her, his big body a feast for her senses. He released his hold on her hair, giving her some freedom to explore. She let her palms roam across his chest as she kissed her way down. He’d given her something the day before. He’d taught her that she wasn’t cold or frigid, that sex could be good with the right partner. She wanted to return the favor.
There were a million reasons why it was a bad idea and only one reason to keep going—because she wanted to. In the moment, that was all that mattered.
“I’m trying to be very good,” Damon said, his hands clutching the sheets. “It’s difficult for me not to take over. So give me something. Take off that ridiculous shirt and let me see your breasts. I won’t let you hide from me.”
He’d touched her and played with her, but he hadn’t seen her yet.
“Don’t,” he growled. “Don’t tense up on me. I want to see you.”
“I don’t look like you, Damon.” She was overweight, a bit saggy. He was masculine perfection, and she wasn’t anywhere close to him.
“Thank god for that. I don’t want you to look like me. I’m not into men.”
So frustrating. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
His eyes narrowed. “Then perhaps you should tell me what you meant.”
She had the sudden fear that he wouldn’t like her explaining all the ways she didn’t measure up. He hadn’t liked other people talking bad about her. He wouldn’t like her talking about herself in a derogatory fashion either. And he seemed to be looking for a reason to punish her. There was only one clear way out of the situation.
She sat up, making her decision. Before she could really think about it, she pulled the shirt over her head and let it fall to the bed beside her. She wasn’t wearing underwear since he hadn’t seen fit to provide her with any. Penny sat, kneeling over him, waiting for him to say something.
A slow smile curled his lips up, making him look like a lazy pasha whose meal had been brought to him on a silver platter. “What made you change your mind?”
She bit her bottom lip and decided to tell him the truth. This relationship they were pretending to have was all about trust and honesty. “Well, I decided that if I told you what was going through my head, you would very likely get angry with me. You would have spanked me and then still ordered me to undress, so the argument wouldn’t have gotten me anything but a sore bum. I decided to skip it and do as you asked.”
Pure pleasure was in his grin. “Such a smart girl. We’ll get along well, you and I. And, god, your tits are gorgeous. Look at that. Spread your legs. Let me see your p-ssy.”
She could see he wasn’t going to be easy to please. He would demand everything from her, but he’d done nothing to make her think he would hurt her. He’d only given her pleasure in moments like these, only praised her. She shifted, moving her knees apart so he could see her.
“Do you always shave?” His voice had gotten deeper, darker.
She shook her head. “No. It’s my first time. I did it on Saturday night.”
“After you said yes to me.” He turned on his side, obviously comfortable with his nudity. “Did you think about me when you were shaving?”
More honesty. “Yes.”
“Did you want to please me? Did you shave your p-ssy thinking it would please your Master?”
She’d done it for several reasons. “I read that many submissives keep to a grooming routine. And yes, I did think about you while I was doing it. I wanted to know what it felt like. I don’t pay much attention to that part of my body.”
She’d stood in the shower, hot water running over her as she carefully shaved herself and wondered, hoped and prayed even, that she could figure out why a p-ssy seemed to be the center of so many women’s lives.
Then Damon had touched her there and she’d understood.
His hand found his cock, lazily rubbing up and down. “Don’t pay much attention to it?”
She couldn’t help but watch the way his hand worked over his erection. She might not have spent a lot of time thinking about her sex, but Damon was deeply, comfortably acquainted with his. “I didn’t think much about sex. Even when I was engaged, I didn’t really enjoy it.”
“I thought about you on Saturday, too. Do you know what I did after we spoke?”
“Apparently you researched all of my relatives and decided on a plan to relocate me.” He’d worked quickly, too.
He chuckled a little. “Besides that. And I’d already researched all your relatives. And friends. And anyone you talk to on a regular basis. No. I got in bed that night and I did this.”
His fist tightened around his cock, pulling back the foreskin, allowing the purple head to emerge. His balls were tight against his body, beautifully large and round. And it was apparent he spent time on grooming as well.
“You touched yourself while you were thinking of me?” She tried to really imagine him lying there, gripping his own cock and thinking about making love to her.
It wasn’t love. It was sex. She had to remember that.
“I did more than touch myself.” He groaned and his eyes closed briefly. “I had a nice long session. I lay in this bed and thought about all the nasty things I was going to do to you, and I wanked my own cock until I came everywhere. I told you I hadn’t had sex in a long time. It felt damn good.”
“Why, Damon?” She asked the question on a sigh because she truly didn’t understand him. “Why me? I’m not trying to get into trouble. I want to understand.”
“Why I want you?”
“Yes. You never paid me much attention before. I don’t understand what’s changed.”
He stopped his slow stroking and turned to her. “I did think about you. Come here. Lie beside me. It’s not fun to touch myself when you’re right here. I’ll talk but I want you to touch me.”
She shifted, lying back on the bed, and soon found herself in his arms again. Somehow she’d thought sex with Damon would be wild and crazy. She hadn’t expected him to be so sweet, hadn’t counted on the real intimacy she was beginning to find with him. She’d envisioned him f*cking her and then walking away, not this long, slow seduction.
“Give me your hand.” When she placed her hand in his, he pulled it to his cock. “Stroke me.”
Though his cock was hard as a rock, the skin covering it was silky smooth. She let her fingers close around the stalk, her middle finger just barely meeting the tip of her thumb.
A long shuddering sigh went through him. “Yes. That’s what I want. Keep it up and I’ll keep talking. But slowly. I don’t want to come yet.”
She stroked him, awkwardly at first and then finding a rhythm.
“I always liked you, Penelope. I wasn’t good for anyone back then. I’m probably still not, but things have changed. I always found you attractive.”
She rubbed her cheek against his chest. “I find that hard to imagine. You didn’t date anyone who looked like me.”
He chuckled, his chest moving with the laugh. “I took a few women out to lunch at the office. It wasn’t anything serious. I didn’t really date at all. Not the way you would think of it. I played with subs, but I never was exclusive. I took out a couple of women when I was younger, but I have to lie about so much, it didn’t seem to be possible. I was in the Army for the longest time and then I was SIS. I can’t have a normal relationship. I have to be able to work, and most women aren’t going to understand why I need to leave to go undercover for months or even years at a time.”
She understood all that, but it didn’t answer the basic question. “Why me?”
“You don’t think you’re pretty, but you’re wrong. And it’s more than that. I want what you can offer me. I want all that kindness. I want that innocence. I want to be the one who teaches you how to stroke a cock. You’re quite good at it, by the way.” His free hand came up, sliding across her belly and up to cup her breast.
Her nipple peaked as his hand ran across it.
She lost her rhythm, her whole body on alert as he touched her.
“But you need to learn to focus, love.” His fingertips found her nipple and squeezed tight, a short, sharp shock.
She gasped as the pain flared and then sank into her. “Damon.”
He tweaked her again. “Master. We’re playing. I’m in charge now, and I want you to stroke my cock. I think that you like this. I think the idea of pleasing me does something for you. And I definitely think you respond to a bite of pain.”
Her p-ssy certainly had. It was as though the pain from his fingers had gone directly to her core, morphing in to pleasure along the way. She gripped his cock again, with more confidence this time, and stroked him.
“That’s my girl.” Damon whispered the words, almost breathing them into her skin. “That’s exactly what I want. I didn’t have anything to offer you then, but I do now. I can show you the world. All those things you read about in books, I can make them real for you. I can protect you while you explore. I can take care of you, Penelope. All you have to do is submit to me. I’ll treat you like the gift you are.”
His words drugged her, made her feel drowsy with wanting. There was absolutely nothing to keep her from rolling onto her back and letting him take her. Then she would be his. For how long didn’t matter. She would be his, and she could hold the memory forever.
“Kiss me now.” He shifted so their lips could meet and Penny never had to stop stroking him. His free hand moved over hers, covering her as he took over. His tongue traced along her bottom lip, making her shiver.
She turned into him, letting her breasts rest against his chest. He made her feel delicate and feminine against his masculinity.
“Say you’ll stay with me.”
There was only one answer to that. “Yes.”
* * * *
The minute Damon heard the word “yes” leave her lips, he was all over her. She’d said it. Penelope had given him permission, and now it was his turn. His cock was raging hard, ready to go off any second. He tore her hand away because he wasn’t going to come in her palm. He wanted to mark her, to make her remember exactly who she belonged to so she wouldn’t flirt with Lord Weston again.
He rolled her on her back, making a place for himself between her legs. So f*cking soft. She was the damn softest thing he’d ever held. He looked down into those sky-blue eyes and nearly lost it.
He hadn’t lied to her. He’d always watched her, but she was the type of woman who should have a husband and children, who went to church on Sundays and always had supper ready. He had nothing to offer her. He couldn’t be that man, but she’d walked away from that kind of life the minute she’d told him yes.
He was a greedy bastard and she was a good thing.
One good thing. Sometimes that was all a man needed. She was smart, and after he’d trained her, she would be good in the field. A team. They would be a team and then he never had to leave his job, never had to go back to his pitiful existence.
He kissed her, letting his tongue plunge inside. He would make it good for her, take care of her, make her need him like she needed her next breath.
So she wouldn’t leave, wouldn’t betray him. So all that sweetness and light would be for him and him alone.
Sex would bind her to him. Sex would bring them closer together.
Sex would feel so bloody good.
Her arms wound around him, her legs spread wide. She was a feast and he was suddenly damn near starving.
He kissed his way down her neck, giving her little bites along the way. Every time he nipped her, she jumped a little, but he could see the way her eyes widened, first in shock and then a sultry acceptance dropped over her. She was relaxing, taking what he gave her and allowing it to grow in to hot desire.
He cupped her breasts. Soft, sweet breasts. The women he’d been around tended to be in the business, and they were either surgically enhanced or so physically fit there wasn’t an ounce of cushion on them. Not Penelope. Penelope was all woman, with curves and hips he could hold on to when he f*cked her hard and long. He didn’t have to worry about breaking her.
That idiot fiancé of hers had been right. Penelope was strong. She gripped him and he felt it. Her nails sank into his skin. He doubted she even realized she was doing it. Little scratches against his skin. They would be there for hours, reminding him how hot he’d gotten her, how far gone she’d been. The way she clawed at him got him even hotter.
He tongued her nipples, moving from one to the other, softening her up. First something sweet, a suck and lick, and then he’d nip her, dragging that bud between his teeth and biting down, glorying in the way she gasped and moaned. She wriggled underneath him, and he could smell her.
God, he loved that smell. He couldn’t get it out of his head since the day before. Delicate but strong, like the woman herself.
He had to taste her. The bit he’d dragged off his own hands hadn’t been enough. He needed to get his tongue inside her, needed to spear her on it.
“Has anyone ever eaten your p-ssy before?” He growled the question against her tits, rubbing himself over the satin of her skin.
“What?”
He loved how out of breath she was, out of herself. When she let go, she was a sensual thing. So buttoned up and proper during the day, she turned into a sexy sub when he stripped her down. He dragged himself up so he was on his knees between her thighs, staring down at her. No one who looked at her in her shapeless cardies and bland skirts would ever imagine that she could look so f*cking wanton. “Your p-ssy. You know that thing you never really thought about before? Has any man ever put his mouth on your cunt? Ever made a meal out of you? Ever f*cked you long and hard with his tongue? For that matter, has any woman ever done it? I would love to hear that story, pet.”
He expected her to flush and she did, a pretty pink. Her ass would be lovely pink, too, but instead of turning away, she met him, amusement in her eyes. “No, Master. No lesbian loves in my past. And I believe you already know the answer to the other. Peter was fastidious. He wouldn’t try ethnic food, much less put his mouth on me there. On my p-ssy.”
Prat. Dumbass, as his American friends would call him. “I’m not fastidious.”
Her eyes went dreamy and one hand came up to cup his cheek. “No, you’re not. You’re dirty, Master. You’re a dirty, nasty man. You’re going to eat my p-ssy, aren’t you? You’ll do all those things you said.”
His cock jumped. Nasty words sounded somehow sweet coming out of her mouth. “Yeah. I’m going to do everything I promised.”
He looked down at her p-ssy. Plump. Ripe. Her labial lips were already wet with arousal. Her *oris was poking out of its hood, all pearly and lovely in the early morning light. She was perfectly smooth. She’d done a damn fine job on herself. He could see her, working the razor over her flesh with the same care and caution she used when breaking a code or translating a document. She’d probably looked up how to do it, studied it so she would be perfect.
“I’m going to teach you. I’ll teach you how to be my sub, my perfect partner.” He let his finger run across the slit of his cock, gathering the pre-come. He rubbed it into her *, wanting a piece of himself on her. Later, he would come all over her, rubbing it into her skin. He would come inside her and know she walked around with his come in her p-ssy.
He’d never had a permanent submissive, never collared one before, but she would wear every mark of his possession.
“Damon, you’re killing me.” Her hips wiggled, trying to force his finger to rub harder.
No time like the present. She wasn’t in charge. He’d meant to ease her into discipline, but that was before he’d realized how much she needed it. “I believe I told you to call me Master. Do you know what a safe word is?”
Her eyes flared. “Yes.”
“Pick one.”
“Master, I…” Something in his eyes must have told that beautiful brain of hers that this was another fight she couldn’t win because she nodded suddenly. “Penguin. It’s the first word that came to mind.”
“Excellent.” He moved off her and neatly flipped her over, exposing the sight of the most gorgeous arse he’d ever seen. “You’re not in charge. I’m in charge. You’ll take the pleasure I give you and by god, you’ll take my discipline.”
He slapped her cheeks three times in rapid succession. A sexy gasp came from her mouth.
“Oh my god.”
That wasn’t her safe word. Not anywhere close. Another three. Hard smacks against those juicy cheeks. She trembled under his hand, but didn’t make another sound.
“Can you take four more? That’s what you’ll get when you try to steal an orgasm from me. You’ll get ten this first week because we’re in training. It will be so much worse for you later, pet.”
“Yes. I can take it.” There was a steely will in her voice and then she sighed and settled down, offering her bum to him.
God, she was perfect. He drew out the last four, allowing his hand to settle against her flesh so the heat would seep into her skin, turning to arousal.
When he was finished with the final smack, she collapsed, her back shaking.
A flare of panic hit his system. Had he been too hard on her? He turned her over, praying she wasn’t crying. He couldn’t handle it if she cried because he’d been too rough.
Her face was flushed, her eyes soft. “Master?”
She wasn’t afraid. Relief rushed through him. “Yes, love?”
“I think I’m a freak.” A smile flashed on her face.
He laughed long and hard because he hadn’t expected that. That summed her up. Unexpected. “Yes, you are. Lucky for you. Being a freak is so much more fun. Do you understand what I want?”
“You want me to be still. You want me to submit.”
Such a smart girl. “Yes. I’ll tie you down if I have to. Don’t think I can’t do it. The bed was custom built. You can’t see it right now, but there’s a whole system under the mattress built for naughty subs who can’t hold still. Once I’ve got you tied down by your arms and legs, I’ll be able to do anything I want. I’ll be able to torture your sweet p-ssy.” He ran a hand over her mound, feeling how wet she already was. “I’ll keep you on edge all day long. You’ll be crying and begging for me to let you come.”
“I’m quite there already, Master.”
She had no idea what he could do to her. “Not yet, you aren’t. You’ve just had a little taste. He didn’t make you come.”
She shook her head. “No. Never.”
“I make you come. I’m the man who makes you come. Say it.”
“You make me come. Only you.”
He wasn’t sure he liked the raging jealousy that went through him every time he thought about that skinny accountant putting his hands on Penelope. He had the deepest instinct to obliterate the man. Had Peter told her he loved her? Had he offered her the life she deserved? It didn’t matter because he hadn’t been man enough to keep her. It had been easy to find that story. Peter saved his e-mails. He’d talked about how Penelope had gotten so involved in her mother’s care that she hadn’t found time for him. Stupid boy. He should have taken over. She’d been drowning and no one had offered to save her. No one had walked in and made life easy for her. Her siblings had visited but no one had taken control. He would have moved them both in here and hired a nurse twenty-four seven, costs be damned. He would have made sure Penelope never forgot that she was a woman and not just a caretaker. He would have had her in bed every night screaming out her pleasure, the tension dissolving away in pulse-pounding sex.
He knew what she needed, and he wasn’t going to make the same mistakes. He might not be able to offer her love, but he damn sure could take care of her.
Love was for idiots who didn’t know what the world was really like. What he was offering her was something far more real. A partnership.
“Only me.” He parted the petals of her sex. The need to take her rode him hard. His cock was right there. He was hard and she was wet. It would be so simple, but he had a point to prove.
He would control her through sex, not the other way around. He was the Dom. He was the senior partner.
And he’d promised her a good tongue lashing. He could spend the entire morning eating her p-ssy. Then he would feed her. He could start her training. He would make her sit on his lap and feed her himself, and then he would take her to the dungeon and start getting her used to impact play.
He would plug her gorgeous bum because he was going to f*ck her there. Eventually. But this morning it was all about the p-ssy. It was all about getting deep inside Penelope. It was all about making the connection that would bind her to him.
F*ck. It was all about coming. It was all about spending himself hard inside her. His dick was pulsing, dying. All he needed to do was thrust up and he would be content.
He placed his head against her forehead. It was such a temptation to just f*ck up into her.
But she was so inexperienced. He had to stop.
He rubbed their foreheads against one another. He was close to her. Closer than he’d ever been to a woman. F*ck. She did it for him. He didn’t really understand why, but she did it. She called to him. Everything about Penelope Cash pulled him in. He had to take care of her, had to protect her. Even from himself because the idea of spending his come inside her was so f*cking tempting. He wanted to bind her to him so she wouldn’t ever leave.
Selfish. He was greedy and selfish and he wanted to be more to her.
“Love, what about birth control?” He didn’t want to have to stop to ask her about it later.
“I’m on birth control pills. I’ve been on them for years. I guess I was hopeful.”
F*ck. He didn’t have to wear a condom. “Love, you got my medical reports.”
She frowned. “Well, I read the ones you didn’t bury.” She huffed out a laugh. “Master, I know you’re clean. Will you please make love to me?”
So polite and he didn’t want polite from her. “Ask me to f*ck you, Penelope.”
He didn’t want to lie to her. He didn’t make love. He didn’t even believe in it as a concept. It was something people needed to mask their primal needs for sex and conquest and someone to sleep next to at night.
Penelope’s eyes widened and a sexy gasp came from those lips of hers. “Will you f*ck me?”
“With pleasure, love.” But first things came first. He kissed his way down her body, stopping to nip at her breasts and suck each one hard into his mouth. She was primed. She could handle more now. And god knew he wanted to give her more. “Spread your legs wider.”
She didn’t hesitate, simply moved her legs farther apart, giving him more room, more access to his p-ssy. His. She would be his in a way no woman had belonged to him before. She was practically a f*cking virgin but here she was giving him everything she had.
He let his fingers play in her labia, drawing the petals apart and watching them fold back together. He fingered her * briefly, not enough to let her fly. No. He wanted that to happen around his dick. He wanted to feel those muscles clamp down on his shaft, holding him hard and long while he spilled inside her.
One long lick of his tongue had Penelope squirming again, but she quickly settled down. Likely she was remembering the hard smack of his hand to her ass. He licked her again, tasting every inch of her. Spicy and sweet. Penelope. Over and over he licked and sucked and she let him. Only her pleas and gasps and the fresh arousal coating her flesh told him how desperate she was becoming.
“You’re doing so well.” He breathed the words against her p-ssy. “Just a bit more.”
“You’re trying to kill me.”
He chuckled. He had just enough sadist in him to deeply enjoy her discomfort. Sucking her * into his mouth, he let his fingers f*ck up into her p-ssy. Just one. She was so tight. The skinny accountant must have had a pencil dick.
Her body tightened and Damon released her *.
“Damn it!” Her skin had flushed a deep pink. “Please. Please.”
Another finger. It would be rough, but he meant to get inside her. She was so slick, but he would still have to be careful. He let himself feel her heat for another second before pulling his fingers from her warmth.
“Not until I’m ready.” He got to his knees over her protests. “And you’re to call me Master when I’m f*cking you, sub. That’s what you’re going to be, you understand?”
Her blonde curls shook as she nodded. “Yes. Your submissive. Yours, Master.”
F*ck, yes, she was his. But not quite yet. His cock pulsed, muscles tightening. He could feel his heart thundering in his chest. At least if he died doing this he would die happy. No. This was a good thunder. A promise of pleasure and peace, not what had happened to him when he was chasing Baz.
He stroked himself, blood pounding through his dick. He couldn’t help but stare at the place where his cock sat right on the precipice of her body. She was so soft and pretty and he was going to tear her up. Yes, that thought got him hot, too. She would be sore all day, likely the first couple of times until she’d adjusted to accommodate him.
His p-ssy. It belonged to him.
He pushed in, her heat threatening to strangle his cock.
Never before had he taken a woman bareback. So f*cking good. He let everything else fall away. There was no mission, no betrayal to avenge, nothing at all except the woman he was sinking into.
“Take me.” Little thrusts back and forth. She was so small, but he was determined.
Penelope shifted her hips up, her face determined. “I want you, Master. All of you. I want to take every inch of you.”
He pushed in. Another inch. His cock sank in and he dragged it back out. Over and over. He took his time because this was important. Discipline would win this battle.
A long sigh of pure pleasure came from deep inside his body as he finally pushed home. He was balls deep inside her, his fingers sinking into the cushion of her ass. She was everything he’d thought she would be and more.
“Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should take just a bit less of you,” she said on a shaky breath.
Brat. “Give it a minute. You’ll get used to me. I promise, love. I’ll make this good.”
Her hands came up, threading into his hair. “It’s all right. I don’t know that I’m so good at this part.”
It was one of those times that he likely should stop and spank her silly, but he couldn’t. This was too important. This suddenly didn’t feel like play. He was buried inside her and it was bloody important. “We’re going to be very good at this. We’re going to practice and I do promise you’ll come. I’m going to make sure of it.”
He ground his pelvis down, hitting her *, watching her eyes darken.
Her hands moved restlessly from his hair to his shoulders, as if she wasn’t sure what to do with them. He knew.
“Grip my arse.” He wanted her hands on him, letting him know how much she wanted his cock.
Those soft hands of hers skimmed across his body until they settled on his cheeks.
“I’m better now.” She gave him a hard squeeze.
“No, you’re not, but you will be. Hold on tight. Be rough with me. I’ll f*cking love it. You leave your mark on me. God knows I intend to leave mine on you.” With a long sigh of relief, he slid out and then thrust back in. This time she accommodated him, his thrust easy and sure.
Damon let himself go. She was writhing under him, her hands trying to hold him deep. It was a fight, but the best kind. She tried to keep his cock inside and he fought for the friction, every thrust and pull a drag on his cock. He pounded into her, twisting his hips so he caught her *.
Her whole body tightened, her nails digging into his skin as she came on a long moan. His cock was caught, strangled by her orgasm, thrusting him into his own.
Nothing had ever felt as good as filling Penelope Cash with his come. Over and over he thrust in, giving her every ounce he had inside him.
Finally, a deep sense of peace thrumming through him, he collapsed on her. Resting his face against her neck. His world was filled with her. Her scent, the way her chest moved against his, warm arms around him. He could drown in her.
His mobile trilled.
The room stilled, time seeming to stop. He always answered his mobile because it was always work. He didn’t have a bunch of friends who called and interrupted him. He had work and they called when it was important.
“Don’t, Damon.” Her face was red, her lips tight, and now the tears showed up as though she couldn’t stand to have him walk away even to answer his mobile. Their intimacy was fragile.
He ignored it. F*ck whoever was calling him. They would call back. This was his time with her. This felt oddly sacred, and he didn’t want it interrupted. He wanted to hold her, cuddle with her and kiss her all over again.
Her mobile trilled.
“They’ll go away.” He willed them all to go the bloody hell away.
The intercom buzzed, and Ian Taggart’s voice came over the speaker. “Knight, get your ass down here. We’re wanted at headquarters. Apparently your friend has been causing trouble, and he’s after your girl. Let’s go.”
Baz was after her? Baz knew about Penelope, knew the way to get to him was through her. A sudden vision of Penelope cold and dead struck his brain like a hammer. He was supposed to protect her. How could he protect her when he couldn’t stop f*cking her long enough to answer his bloody phone?
He was supposed to be in control, but she stripped it away from him. He had to get it back, and he wouldn’t do it by cuddling with her. He was trapped between giving her what he knew she needed and keeping distant enough to be effective.
He rolled off the bed and started for the shower. He needed to think.
“Damon?”
“Get dressed. We have work to do.” He didn’t look back. He really couldn’t stand to see her cry.