by Tessa Layne
"What is it, Penny?" I murmur. "What'd she say that's got you tied up in knots?"
In typical Penny fashion, she rolls her eyes upward. "Nothing but the truth. That I'm all wrong, I look like an angry young woman, not a happy beautiful bride." Her voice is the perfect impression of my mother, but I hold back the laugh because I can see Penny's hurt.
"You do have an air of Wednesday Addams about you." I can't resist drawing a finger down her cheek. "But those of us who know you know it's just an act."
Her eyes jerk to mine, searching. "How do you know that?"
"Because you're the smartest woman in the room. Always. You have nothing to prove and you make sure people know that. You've got more balls than most men I know, and your whole shock factor get-up is just that - a costume designed to put off all but the most serious of contenders. Anyone worth their mettle will love and respect you no matter what color your hair is, what you wear, or how many tattoos and piercings you have." I tip up her chin with a finger and I look straight into her deep green eyes. A combination of hope and fear stares back at me - as if she wants to believe me but isn't quite sure. And then... it changes.
My throat goes dry.
Just like the first day I laid eyes on her, heat flares in her eyes, but this time, it doesn't disappear. The longer I hold her gaze, the hotter the smolder becomes. Her mouth parts and a sigh escapes. I fall into her, unable to stop myself and not sure I want to. Our lips meet in the barest of kisses, a brush, a question. I ease back, expecting her to push me away with a bratty remark, but she doesn't. She leans in.
My blood heats. This isn't a show for someone else, this is all us. And unless I'm reading the situation wrong, she wants this too. I kiss her again, more firmly this time, still questioning. Again she yields her mouth to me, lips soft and inviting. My heart pounds in my ears and I flick my tongue against her lower lip, testing, teasing. She sighs again and her tongue flirts with mine. It's the barest of touches, but the response in my body is instantaneous - arousal tears through me, making my ears buzz. It's like Penny's lit a flame on a powder keg. A sound of pure animal desire rips from my throat as I bring my hand to the nape of her neck, deepening the kiss and tasting again the sweet recesses of her mouth. She fists a hand at the top of my shirt, pulling me even closer as she follows my lead and ups the ante.
"I've wanted you for four years, Penny," I rasp when we break apart.
Her eyes light. "Why didn't you?"
"All the reasons," I growl, not wanting to rehash the details I've gone over a million times in my head.
"Why now? What changed?" she whispers, fingers skating along the day's stubble beginning to appear at my jawline.
How do I tell her that kissing her Friday set off a chain reaction that I can't seem to stop? I don't want to make this bigger than it already is, and I can't promise her forever, but I can't bring myself to walk away, either. "Because I'm a dirty old man and now that we've kissed, I don't want to stop."
"I don't want you to stop," she confesses as she pulls me back into another searing kiss. Her words act like an electric shock, reverberating through me.
I scoop her up and carry her down the hall to my bedroom. At the door I pause. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," she answers with a firm nod, eyes dark green pools.
I set her on the edge of the bed and remove my suit jacket, laying it over the back of a chair, then reach for the buttons on my shirt.
"Let me," she murmurs, rising. She quickly releases the buttons, fingers fluttering across my chest. My skin comes alive under her touch, goosebumps rising as she traces my abs to my waistline. I can't help but flex, leaning into her tentative explorations. My cock is like iron, straining against my shorts. I want to throw her on the bed and rut like a madman, claiming her. I'm taut, pulled tight like a bowstring when she steps back and reaches for the hem of her tee - today it's Dark Side of the Moon.
My breath stops in my throat and I watch, no better than an avid horny teenager as she teases the hem up and over her head, dropping it to the floor next to mine. Her breasts are high and pert, covered in creamy satin, but it's the lacy tattoos that rivet me. She's a living breathing work of art and I've never seen anything like it. The lacy pattern of vines and flowers starts at the top of her right breast and curls up and over her shoulder and partway down her arm. The colors are subtle, little pastel kisses of pigment that seem to take on another dimension as her muscles ripple below the ink. The new tattoo on her forearm is a continuation of the same pattern, though not yet colored. It's beautiful and perfectly Penny. And I instinctively know this is a man's work - someone's worshipped her body with ink the way I plan to worship it with my mouth and fingers.
A hot spike of jealousy rolls through me, clouding my brain. "Who did this?" I ask, giving into the green monster. "What's his name?"
Penny smirks. "Ruben," she says slowly, with pride and a tenderness that tells me she's been with him for more than her tattoos. "He owns the tattoo parlor at 16th and Grand."
"Are you still seeing him?" I have no right to be jealous. Not after the years of women Penny's seen pass through my office. But my caveman nature doesn't care about that. All I can think about is this Ruben's hands over my Penny's body.
There's a tinge of sadness to her smile that hits me right in the solar plexus. She shakes her head. "Only for artwork."
"Did he hurt you? I swear Penny," I start but she stops my mouth with a finger.
"Shush. Ruben's... a friend. A dear, sweet friend. That's all."
"Good," I growl, nipping the tip of her finger then suckling it. The heat in her eyes flares to life again and Ruben is forgotten, for now. I walk Penny back to the bed and gently push her down and onto her elbows, so I have access to the clasp of her jeans. The snap of the button followed by the separation of the zipper fills the room. It's hot as fuck, that sound. Hotter still is the belly button ring with a pink gemstone that matches the one at her nose. Of course Penny has a belly button ring. "Lift your hips," I order roughly, and for once she complies, biting her lip. Her obedience is like a shot of pure adrenaline. My hands shake a little as I slide them down her hips, baring her skin.
Her satin panties match her bra, but I'm fixated on the wet spot at her pussy even as I register more ink splashed across her left hip. I bend over her, brushing a knuckle across the damp satin. "Fuck, Penny," I murmur. "You're so fucking wet." I want to roar, I want to thump my chest like a caveman. Most of all, I want to know what aroused Penny tastes like.
I slide a finger underneath the wet edge and nearly come undone. Her pussy is soft and slick, ready to be worshipped. I drop to my knees. "My god, Penny. You're fucking incredible."
"Tell me something I don't know," she sasses with a giggle.
"Brat." I slap her thigh - gently because I have no idea where her kink is at, but I imagine she's as strong and fearless in bed as she is in life. "Take off your bra," I order gruffly as I slide off her panties, baring her most intimate parts to my hungry gaze. I blink once, twice as I take in the shock before me. I tear my eyes from her pussy crowned with strawberry tinged curls and meet her eyes. Her eyes sparkle with humor as her teeth come down on that plump lower lip. "Ginger, huh?"
She lifts a shoulder. "It's been so long, I forget."
I've always wondered what Penny's true hair color was. Never in a million years would I have guessed red. Light brown? Blonde, maybe. Never red. "You're perfect just the way you are." I mean it, too. I don't give a shit what color her hair is, or how many tattoos she has.
She slowly pulls down her bra strap and shrugs off the garment. Her tits are tiny and pert. Barely a handful of creamy pale skin crowned with peachy pink buds that have puckered into tight peaks. The tattoo at her right shoulder curls around skirting the top of her breast with a tendril leading the eye right to the nipple. A treasure map. And definitely created by a man who loved Penny's body. I push back the jealous flare. I'm here now. She's with me. Whatever she and this Ruben fellow had is over. The reass
urance still doesn't stop me from wanting to lay claim to her now though. To sear myself into her memory permanently.
I slip a hand along her knee and gently push, making space for myself between her thighs. I settle in, stroking along her pale satin skin, taking my time reaching the treasure that awaits me. Her pussy lips are pink and swollen, glistening with her arousal, and I swear I catch a whiff of her perfume. The scent of her sex goes straight to my head, better than any college high. I lift my head, catching her staring avidly. "There's no going back from this, Penny," I say roughly as an emotion I'm not ready to identify squeezes my chest.
"I know," she says, voice as husky as my own as she reaches down to ruffle my hair. The gesture is so tender my bones ache. I don't deserve this kind of tenderness, this kind of whole-hearted trust I see reflected in her eyes.
I bow my head with more reverence than I ever had in high school chapel, and gently kiss the inside of her thigh where it meets her body. I nuzzle the soft skin, alternately nipping and sucking until her hips roll up and she lets out a little whimper. "Please. Stop teasing."
Slowly I tease at her entrance, licking deeper into her wet folds with each pass until I hear her cry out and she clutches my hair. "Oh, Stockton, yes. That's it."
Except it's not. I've only just begun. I seal my mouth over her hard little clit and work my tongue over it relentlessly until her hips buck off the bed and she lets out a long guttural moan, body shaking. I continue until her breathing calms, then raise my head, taking in her flushed cheeks and blown pupils and give a silent fist pump. I rock back on my heels with a triumphant grin, knowing full well my face wears the evidence of her release. "Tell me honestly. That was the best orgasm you've ever had."
Chapter Thirteen
Penny
"Tell me honestly. That was the best orgasm you've ever had."
I stare at him a full second before breaking into a laugh. It might be, but I'm sure as hell not going to tell him that. "That was your A-game?" The look of shock on his face is priceless, the look of determination that comes next, thrilling.
"Maybe you need to have the brat fucked right out of you," he growls, rising to loom over me.
My giggle dies on my lips as he drops his head to take a nipple into his mouth. I let out a thready moan when his teeth briefly clamp down, followed by his tongue. Electricity zings to my already sensitized clit. I'm going to pay for my sass this time, and I'm going to love every tantalizing torturous second of it. He moves to my other breast, sucking it hard enough I cry out, even as I squirm for more friction between my legs. Stockton's hands are everywhere, caressing the underside of my breasts, fluttering down my ribcage, across my belly, stroking my clit until I can barely stand it, palming my hip. Then he startles me by pulling me on my side, and slapping my ass while he's licking and tugging at my nipples. I barely register the sting through the myriad of sensations swirling through me - Stockton's hot mouth on my breast, a finger at my clit, and another slap. This time I feel it in my clit, throbbing and aching. "What are you doing?" I pant, gasping when the sting comes again.
"Bringing my A-game," he says roughly, nipping at my collarbone.
My body is on fire, a throbbing, aching bundle of need. And just when I think I can't take it anymore, when I'm going to fall over the edge into mind-numbing oblivion, he pulls away. "Wait, what are you doing? Don't stop," I beg.
He grins down at me, hair on end, looking like some kind of a big bad orgasm-inducing wolf. His hand comes to his belt buckle, and I watch, rapt, as he opens his slacks and pushes down everything. He steps from his pants and boxer briefs and his cock juts out thick and heavy. It's beautiful, and my mouth waters to taste it, to run my hands along its glorious length. Mother of god, the man is a Greek statue come to life. But with a much, much bigger dick. Like - I get why the sculptors gave all the Greek gods small penises. The women wouldn't be able to contain themselves if what was bobbing proudly before my eyes were enshrined in marble. But it should be. Cocky as ever, he palms his length. "Do I pass inspection?" he teases with a wry smile.
"Let's just see how it performs, shall we?" I tease back. My pussy's already clenching in anticipation.
Stockton bends and fishes a condom from the nightstand, tossing it to me. "I'm all yours."
Something in his voice pulls my eyes to his. His eyes are deep and dark, his gaze unfathomable, like the joking's stopped and now he means business. My sassy comeback dies on my tongue. My heart begins to race and my hands tremble as I futz with the wrapper. Stockton steps to the bed and before I sheath him, I can't resist bending for a taste. The head of his cock is velvety and the drops of pre-come salty and musky against my tongue. He lets out a rough breath.
"Jeezus, Penny," he says through clenched teeth, fingers threading through my messy topknot.
The need in his voice eggs me on, and I do it again, slowly licking and finishing off with a little suck at the tip.
He utters a string of curses then barks, "Condom, now."
I comply and he pushes me back on the bed, looming over me and settling himself right at my entrance. He stares down at me for a long moment, then gently brushes the hair from my face. My heart jumps into my throat. I know that for as long as I live, I'll never forget this moment, or the way he's looking at me right now.
"The decision to go bare will always be yours, Penny."
"I bet you say that to all the girls," I answer with a waver in my voice, because I really, really hope that isn't true.
He shakes his head and relief floods through me. "Only you." I hang onto those words like a lifeline, desperately wishing they meant more, wishing that the weighty ring on my left hand was given out of love, not desperation. Pain cuts through the warmer, fuzzier feelings vying for space in my heart, but I push it away because Stockton is here, and while it's not a profession of love, it makes me feel special. And I'll take that.
He slides into me, still holding my gaze, slowly filling me up. It's... I want to look away, afraid that my true feelings will show on my face, but I can't. And when he slowly starts to rock, pushing into me as deep as I can take, then pulling out and repeating, I think I might shatter into a million pieces. I swear his cock is magic, the way he moves strokes my clit and drives me higher and higher. But it's the deep, slow, hard penetration that I swear I can feel in my womb that's going to break me. He takes my wrists, pulling my arms over my head, then bends to take my breast. It's too much, and I break into a hundred thousand pieces, crying his name as the waves of the most intense orgasm of my life crash over me. My body bows as my pussy clenches around him over and over as he strokes into me with a deep low groan, emptying himself and collapsing on top of me. My heart aches with the beauty of it.
We lie there, limbs tangled, in a moment that has no time, the light diffused by translucent curtains. Eventually he shifts, pulling out, and I hate the way I feel suddenly empty.
"Penny?" Stockton murmurs, the backs of his fingers stroking my cheeks.
I grin up at him. "I think that was your A-game." His eyes are soft, the hard lines around his mouth dissipated. It's as close to happy as I've seen him in four years.
"Glad to know where I stand," he murmurs, pinching my hip playfully. "Are you hungry?"
"Famished," I admit, suddenly remembering I left the taco company before I ordered food.
"Don't move." He rises from the bed, heading first to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, and then to the living room. I hear the low rumble of his voice, and a few minutes later he stalks back into the bedroom, half hard.
I shamelessly ogle the way his broad chest narrows to cut hips and a vee-shaped smattering of dark hair below his belly button. He's all muscle and thanks to his rowing, his thighs are like rocks.
"You're staring Penny."
"You don't seem to have a problem with it."
"I don't," he agrees, prowling to the bed and fishing another condom out of the bedside table. "But I want to make use of the fifteen minutes we have before our Thai foo
d arrives." He stretches out next to me, then pulls me on top of him. I push to sitting, staring down at him and wanting to pinch myself. Stockton reaches up and releases my hair from its very messy topknot, running his fingers through the tangles. "Why don't you ever wear it down?"
"Too much effort. This keeps it from turning into dreadlocks."
He tugs on it, and the zing goes all the way to my pussy. "So soft," he murmurs. He traces the tattoo over my shoulder, going over the vines and petals with a finger, following the single trailing vine that curves around my breast, then keeps drawing imaginary lines, circling tighter and tighter until my nipples have peaked and I ache for a deeper touch. His breath catches. "You're the first person I've had sex with since I got tested."
I blink, startled by his change of subject. "Last week?" I tease, thinking about Sloane.
He shakes his head. "Six months."
"What?" I squeak. "You've been celibate for six months? Really?" I squeak again. I shake my head. "No. I'm sorry, you're shitting me."
His chest rumbles beneath me. "I swear, I'm not. Did you know Harrison was celibate for nine months?"
"Is this some kind of a pissing contest between you guys?"
"Not at all. But it did make me think, and I got to the point where... I just wasn't interested in the same old thing."
I press a palm to his forehead. "Are you feeling okay?"
He captures my wrist and kisses my palm. "Never better."
"So what about that night with Sloane? And the woman before her?"
"Nothing but my hand in the shower for six months."
"No wonder you've been such a bear at the office." I'm secretly delighted by this news, but it does make me wonder. "What happened six months ago that made you change?"
He looks at me as if deciding how much to say. "Something my father said to me not long before he died. He was fifty when I was born. My mother was his third wife, but they only got married because she got pregnant."
