She shook her head, tears glittering in her blue eyes.
She’s lying.
All I wanted to do was kiss her stupid. She’d done something—regardless of her denial.
There was no way Greg would’ve retracted his desire to see me rot unless he’d been given something he valued more than making me suffer.
Understanding suddenly filled me.
Money.
I pursed my lips, tilting my head for her to enlighten me.
She merely bit her bottom lip to prevent glowing like the damn sun.
The glint in her gaze told me all I needed to know.
I’m right.
She’d bribed him.
Fuck knew how much she’d promised to save my stupid ass, but she’d done it.
I was...free.
I spun around, facing the court.
Wait, was I free?
Nothing had been said.
Only scrambles of papers and impatient reporters to deliver a story to their editors. The jurors mumbled amongst themselves as if pissed that not only would they not get to contemplate a verdict but they’d also been robbed of delivering it.
With no accuser or statement and a thousand pieces of evidence about Arnold Twig, Sean Twig, and my past riddled with bad luck, nothing else could happen.
I was a good person—contrary to what most believed.
“Quiet!” The judge brought down his gavel. “In the case between Greg Hobson versus Penn Everett, I hereby dismiss all claims. The case is closed. Mr. Everett is innocent. You are free to go.” In the same breath, he looked at Greg. “Mr. Hobson, you shall return and continue with the state as your host while awaiting trial for your own court case against Ms. Charlston. Until then, I hope everyone obeys the law and stops wasting public time and money.” He stood in his robe then stomped down the podium.
There was no fanfare or clapping.
Only the surreal silence that it was over.
Greg threw me a sizzling stare full of contempt even while his fingers counted imaginary dollars. His lawyer stomped off with her satchel thrown over her shoulder. Larry grabbed me in a bear hug. Stewie wrapped himself around my legs. And Elle grabbed my face and kissed me.
She broke the spell.
She popped the bubble and proved it hadn’t been a dream.
It was real.
It had happened.
I was free.
Chapter Forty
Elle
THE PRACTICAL THING after being released from jail would be to go for dinner with those who fought by your side. To answer the flocks of seagulls as news reporters begged for scraps of how I entered the court this morning with only Fleur and Stewie by my side and left in the afternoon wrapped in Penn’s arms.
And we did do those things.
We stopped and kissed for the papers. We waved away questions and grabbed a quick celebratory drink with Stewie, Larry, and Fleur. We didn’t think about the upcoming fight with Arnold Twig, and we didn’t worry about my turn to testify at court against Greg.
He was back in prison, rolling in promised cash, waiting for his hearing.
I had no doubt he wouldn’t care at all.
He wouldn’t care because he had twenty million reasons to be happy.
And I didn’t care because I had twenty million reasons to be grateful Penn was free. That he could stand beside me without shackles. That we could kiss whenever we wanted and whisper about a life we could claim rather than lament about the one we’d had stolen.
We allowed ourselves to celebrate the present without the future robbing us of our hard-earned joy.
My father called Penn to congratulate him, but he didn’t join us for food due to indigestion brought on by stress of the trial.
I ordered him to bed, comforted to know Marnie, our housekeeper, would be there to keep him happy.
Steve didn’t join us for dinner either. Technically, today was not a happy day for him, as Greg would remain in prison without bail until his court date—and then who knew how long he’d serve.
But sitting at a table at a local bar with generic coasters, beer-soaked carpet, and red-leather booths in dim lighting, we toasted to Penn and grew drunk on the relief at having him back.
The celebration started off as a group endeavor. Penn accepted hugs from everyone. He chatted and joked, but he always had one hand touching me—my wrist, my hand, my hip.
After an hour, electricity laced those touches, zapping my belly, liquefying my insides. I couldn’t prevent the way my heart imitated a bowling ball, knocking down my ribs as if they were skittle pins.
No one else noticed but my cheeks slowly glowed—and not from alcohol. Desire for him bubbled inside until the barest brush sent a lustful convulsion through me.
Need built and built until it was unbearable.
Half an hour later, Fleur whispered in my ear that she was taking off because she had a feeling Penn and I weren’t going to be around much longer.
I playfully scolded her then kissed her goodbye.
I needed to be alone with Penn, but I wouldn’t be rude and rob the others from sharing in this hard-earned party.
So, despite fireworks fizzing in my blood, we ordered French fries and prawn twisters. We downed more drinks. And when I excused myself to go to the bathroom, Penn found me like he had the night at the Palm Politics.
He didn’t say a word.
He slammed me hard against a wall and kissed me so deep, I almost combusted. His tongue was totally sinful. His hands absolutely sexual. His cock throbbing as he wedged it firm against me with a glitter in his gaze. “I need to be alone with you. Now.”
Words were hard to come by. He’d incinerated my insides. Burned my synapses. I merely nodded and allowed him to take my hand.
He dragged me back to the table of partiers where we said a guilty goodbye.
Then we caught the first taxi we saw back to his place.
* * * * *
“The blood’s gone.”
A random thing to notice the moment I stepped into Penn’s apartment, but my nerves jangled. I hadn’t been in his place since the day he’d rescued me and started to tell me the truth, only for the police to rip him away for the second time.
“You’re right.” His calculating eyes, which once made me nervous, but now only revealed his keen intelligence, flickered from spotless kitchen to tidy living room. No bed sheets strewn across the floor, no blood, no signs of a fight. “Larry must’ve arranged a cleaning crew.”
I hid a grin, kicking off my black heels and placing my handbag on the kitchen counter. “I’m glad. I don’t exactly feel like doing housework.” I hadn’t meant it to come out so sexual, but it did. My voice was scratchy with desire, the need to touch him with no more rules or cages unbearable.
Only, he didn’t attack me like he had on the night of our conjugal visit. He didn’t pad barefoot toward me sensually. He merely stood in the center of his home and jammed his hands into his pockets the same way he did the very first time we met.
Knowing what I knew now, I understood why.
It was his form of protection against others and himself.
His arms bunched beneath the white shirt he’d rolled up to his elbows; black slacks hung off his hips too big, and his fists balled in pockets that made my heart sob with familiarity.
Despite the events keeping us apart, we’d grown to know each other. I knew enough to predict how he would react. And he knew enough to preempt my answer.
We stood staring at each other as if we couldn’t believe this was real. That we were back here, alone, and unsupervised. Free to do whatever we damn well wanted.
I smiled, suddenly shy and overwhelmed by how simple but heavily charged the moment had become.
Penn’s lips matched mine in a sweet smirk, the stress, worry, and panic of the trial finally slipping off his shoulders, down his arms, and into his pockets. Instead of loose change and old receipts, those slacks held five months of jail time, so Penn no longer had to
.
It was me who moved first.
Undoing the buttons on my dark gray blazer, I stepped toward him. My pantyhosed feet slicked over the hardwood floor, making me shiver. Penn didn’t move as I released the final button and allowed the jacket to puddle down my arms to the floor.
Never breaking eye contact, I reached behind me and undid the zipper on my skirt. Running my hands over my hips, I pushed the slinky lining down my body, wriggling slowly to ease the fabric off.
Penn clenched his jaw, his chest flexing as he forced himself to keep his hands in his pockets. “Elle...” He bit his bottom lip as his eyes glued to my fingers gliding up my body to undo the tiny buttons of my pale cream shirt.
I had no plan of seduction. I hadn’t come here with the idea of stripping for him. But the way he watched me, drank me, breathed me.
God, it was the best aphrodisiac.
My stomach fluttered beneath the buttons as I undid them one by one. My core clenched as he let out a long ragged groan of pure male appreciation.
Yet he didn’t touch me.
His lips parted to breathe heavier. His body swayed as if summoned by some invisible force to link with mine, but he permitted me to finish whatever striptease I wanted.
I had no urge to speak as I undid the last button and slid the shirt down my arms, letting it cascade on top of my jacket and skirt. Words were cheap when our stares said everything we ever needed to hear.
I want you.
You’re mine.
I need you.
I’m yours.
We’re free.
We’re together.
Standing before him in my cream bra and panties decorated with black lace stars with garters and stockings, I felt stronger than I ever had before.
I’d worn a suit to court to borrow authority from cotton and silk but stripped of them now, left only in lace and pantyhose, I was more powerful, more invincible, more desirable than any outfit in the world.
Penn sucked in a gasp. His voice teasing a whisper. “You’re so beautiful.”
His words touched me, but his hands didn’t. They remained in his pockets as if the moment he pulled them free, he’d reach for me, and this precious memory would shatter into passion.
I needed to see him. I wanted to run my fingers along his chest and assure myself he was here. That this wasn’t some incredible fantasy.
Deleting the final step between us, I pressed my fingertips to his belly, relishing his sharp inhale.
Beneath my touch lived muscle and sinew—bone of the man I’d given my heart to and hoped he’d keep forever.
Tugging on his shirt, I slowly pulled it from his waistband, letting it hang roguishly undone and handsome, curling around his hands still wedged deep in his slacks.
He stopped breathing as I undid the bottom button then another, slowly working my way up his body, allowing the cotton to stay close together until I reached the top.
The courts didn’t give him a tie, and the second the last button was undone, I invaded his warmth. Inserting my hands, I washed them over his smooth chest, his pecs, up his shoulders, and down his back until the shirt rippled down his arms to hang where his hands still remained wedged at his thighs.
The white against black looked as if I’d cut off angel wings. As if I’d corrupted a god and made him trade a celestial existent for lowly all because I wanted him.
My mouth watered to suck his skin.
So I did.
Leaning forward, I pressed the softest kisses over his breastbone, working my way to his nipple. As my mouth latched over him, he grunted, bowing backward, sacrificing himself to whatever pleasure I wanted to give him.
He trembled, his toes gripping the floor until they turned white as my tongue circled his nipple and my hands trailed down his belly.
His erection tented his slacks, but I didn’t reach for it. Not yet.
Undoing the cheap synthetic belt, a ball of lust replaced my heart as he shuddered so hard—part from keeping himself in check and not reaching for me, but mostly, from what I did to him.
From my touch. My lips. My methodical way of stripping him of everything that’d happened.
I didn’t just remove his clothes.
I removed his past.
I tore off the months of imprisonment.
I slipped off his lies and half-truths.
Piece by piece, I revealed the man I’d always known existed.
Someone kind but ruthless. Supportive but possessive. Intelligent but quick tempered.
He was an angel and monster in one.
Just human with perfections and imperfections.
“Elle...” he breathed as I undid the button of his slacks then slowly pulled his zipper down. With my bare feet, I moved my skirt and jacket to wedge in front of me then kneeled on the soft padding before him.
“Christ...” He sucked in a gasp as I left his slacks open, circling my fingers around his wrists. His hands remained locked tight in his pockets, but with a soft tug, he allowed me to lift his right one, giving me utmost control.
Never saying a word, I undid the cuff button so his shirt could fall then pressed a kiss onto his palm.
He shivered as I let go, moving toward his left hand.
Once again, he willingly gave me control as I pulled it gently from his pocket. His slacks fell around his ankles, leaving him in tight white boxer-briefs that only highlighted how hard and thick he was.
My mouth went dry as I undid his final button, undoing the cuff around his left hand. The moment it was free, the shirt fell, joining the rest of discarded clothing.
Only one piece left on him. It was a piece I savored as I pressed a kiss, blowing hot air on his shaft through the soft cotton.
He jerked, his hands (now with nothing to use as imprisonment) landed in my hair. “Shit, Elle...what are you doing to me?” His voice was faraway, in a land where nothing bad—no nights alone, no days unsafe, no cold or fear or hunger could find him.
He was mine now.
Tomorrow, I could cook him breakfast like I’d always wanted. I could keep him close, protect him for protecting me.
My hands wrapped around his hipbones, skating fingers over the tight elastic of his boxer-briefs. With my heart lodged in my throat at how turned on I was—how wet, how hot, how heavy and ready—I pulled his underwear down.
His quads clenched until delicious muscle rippled beneath perfect hair-sparse skin. His head fell back with a tattered groan as my hands stayed with his boxers, landing around his ankles but my mouth...that went on its own quest.
I opened and found his crown. I moaned at the taste, at how warm he was, how hard, how satin sheathed steel.
His legs buckled, his fingers digging harder onto my head—not to take control but to support himself, so he didn’t collapse.
“Holy Christ,” he groaned as I sat taller on my knees and swallowed him deep. My fingers came up, left hand cupping his balls, right hand gripping his girth.
I lapped over the thick veins coursing down his length. I sucked with long pulls, wanting to drive him to the pinnacle within seconds.
Penn turned mute, soundless. His fingernails scraped my scalp as he held himself back, his self-control fraying with every second.
Pumping his base, I licked with a feathering tongue. My tummy coiled tight, taking pleasure from giving pleasure.
His spine locked as a ripple of bliss worked up his shaft, coating my mouth with pre-cum. I wanted him to come. I wanted him to let go and relax.
But he captured my chin, bringing my eyes to his. His heartbreakingly gorgeous face was savage with self-control. “I’m not coming in your mouth, Elle.”
I unsheathed my teeth and bit softly.
His hips jerked forward as I sucked him off.
I did what I’d been dreaming off since he made me get on my knees in my office then told me my two minutes were up.
It wasn’t a competition to show him how well I’d learned my lesson, but if I could make him come undone
in two minutes like this, I would gloat for life.
His eyes shadowed to coal black. “Fuck.” He shuddered as I sucked him again, his throat working as he swallowed. “Answer me one question.”
I flicked my tongue over his crown, nodding permission.
He swallowed again, croaking, “Are you wet?”
Was I wet? I was drenched. I was so turned on; I could come with the slightest whisper over my clit.
I nodded.
My tongue licked him, adored him, and that was the breaking point for Penn.
One second, I was in control on my knees. I had him by the balls—literally. The next, I was tossed over his shoulder with his hand spanking my ass and the floor moving fast beneath my eyes.
“You’ll pay for that, Elle.” Swatting me again, he stalked into his bedroom.
From my vantage point, I noticed the black bag still holding the dildo samples sitting on his dresser along with a freshly made bed full of white sheets and pillows.
Pristine, virginal, until he threw me onto the mattress and cupped my jaw in his hands. I sat on the edge while Penn slammed to his knees. The reversal of our roles sent my heart spinning wild like an out of control ballerina.
His dark, delicious eyes speared mine. “I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you. I want you so damn much it interferes with my head, my heart, my very fucking existence. Yet you fight for me, you bribe my enemies for me, you deliver my freedom, and then you get on your knees and pleasure me so fucking selflessly?”
He shook his head, anger dragging his brow over his eyes. “No. You deserve to be worshipped, Elle. You deserve pleasure and protection and everything your heart deserves.”
His features flickered with nervousness. “I hope to God you want me as much as I want you. My shitty life has taught me that the things I want the most are the first to be taken away. I can’t let that happen with you.”
He kissed my lips, inhaling hard, his fingers shaking. “I’ve done things I wish I could undo. I’m not proud of who I’ve been, but, Elle, fuck, if you can stand by me in prison, if you can stand with me in court, then I will stand by you for the rest of your life.”
I swayed forward, slinging my arms over his shoulders and grabbing a fistful of his hair. His obvious need to show me how he felt, his insatiable desire tainting the room—it all matched the depth of emotion I held for him.
Throne of Truth Page 26
