by Dee Tenorio
“Just give us a chance, Pen. One chance. I won’t waste it.” He licked at her lips and she sighed into him. “I swear, I won’t let you down again.”
In answer, she licked back, fusing their lips together and pulling at his collar. Hands free, he rose up against her, taking hold of her hips so he could drag her against him. Her legs wound around him and it was all the invitation he needed. He lifted her up, walking with her through the living room and into the bedroom. Dropping backward onto the bed, he rolled her carefully underneath him, his whole body relaxing just having her there.
Her hands slid everywhere, up his sides, over his shoulders, one sliding up his neck to his jaw while the other did its best to circle his arm, every touch leaving fire in its wake. She tugged at his T-shirt, all but pulling it over his head. Figuring the gloves were off, he made short work of getting her clothes off, too. She helped, trying to maintain the kiss as if he were a lifeline she couldn’t do without.
He could live with that.
Finally they were both undressed, straining against each other. He considered it the greatest feat of his life that he remembered to reach into the bedside drawer for a condom. Because as soon as it was on, he sank into her, all thought ceasing to exist. There was only her, writhing under him, urging him deeper, faster, wilder.
He lost himself in heat, laying his forehead over her frantic heartbeat, desperate to give her what she needed. Her arms locked around his head, holding on as she arched so hard she lifted them both, a keening cry escaping her while she came, her muscles tightening around him until he had to bite the tender flesh of her breast in an effort not to join her.
Penelope quaked harder at the pressure from his teeth, which he soothed with a kiss. A hot swipe of his tongue, then a gentle, almost chaste press of his lips before he rose up on his hands, pressing deeper into her. She came down slowly, panting, her body rippling around the hard, hot intrusion of him. She opened her eyes, lids heavy, to see a strain on his face she didn’t expect. He throbbed inside her and she had to pull in a breath at the surging response inside her.
It was unreal, how beautiful a man he was. Jaws flexing, eyes closed tight, his long lashes lying like fans on his flushed cheekbones. His face could have been sculpted in marble but for the warmth of his skin, the deep golden hue that made him look so vital. No stone could possibly convey the beauty of that.
She let go of his hair, sliding one hand over his cheek and jaw, down the powerful cords of his neck to trace the ridge of his collarbone. His shoulders were absolutely sinuous. She lifted her head to take a taste, running her teeth over the squared line of his tensing jaw.
“This isn’t going to last near as long as you want if you keep that up, Pen.” He thrust upward roughly when she licked his throat. “Damn it!”
She tightened her legs around him, lifting her hips to change his depth even more. Levering herself upward, she hooked her arm around his neck and used the other to support herself up from the bed. Braced, she slid up his length, then down his shaft again, stroking him with her whole body and sending a cascading wave of pleasure over her own nerve endings. “I thought you said you wanted me. Don’t you want me, Raul?”
He all but growled, even as he moved his legs to better accommodate her inverted ride. “If you’re trying to push your luck, Penelope, you’re doing a damn fuckin’ good job.”
“It doesn’t have to last this first time. We can do this again and again and again…” Curving her body upward, the tips of her breasts dragged over his chest with each slow rise and fall. Still, he refused to move with her. “Chloe’s with your sister.” She nipped his chin with her teeth. “All. Night. Long.”
His eyes opened, dark and burning with an intensity that almost scared her. “You still don’t get it, Pen.” He shifted, freeing one of his hands to grasp her hair. “I want more than one night this time.”
Holding tight, he took her mouth again, settling their bodies against the bed and ending her teasing game with a decisive thrust that had her crying out in shocked bliss. There was nothing to mistake now. The kiss tasted of demand and desire. Possession.
Over and over again, he pistoned his hips into her hard and fast while his tongue and his lips feasted on her mouth. She felt inundated. Overwhelmed, but not in a way that frightened her. For all his power, he wasn’t hurting her. It was almost as if he was…loving her. Staking an unmistakable claim on her body and soul. A claim she thought maybe she wanted. If she could somehow believe—
He pulled away, leaning back only to hook her left leg in the crook of his arm and raise it until it folded up against her chest, tilting her hips up as far as they could go. He hooked her other leg as well, while she stared up in dazed wonder. When he moved now, she felt his stroke all the way to her soul and she practically vibrated with sensation.
“I want every night.” His movements slowed until she wanted to beg. The heavy thickness of him, gliding through her swollen folds, her position drawing her flesh tight around him. Just when she thought she’d give anything for another fast thrust, he changed his motion, now rotating to stroke every centimeter inside her. “I want the rest of our lives, Penelope.”
“Don’t ask for that,” she whispered, reaching out to touch his chest, which had gone slick with his restraint. She wanted to give herself to him. She wanted to trust him, but she feared how much she needed him. It was too much. Sexually, she was ready to offer him anything, everything. But that wasn’t what he was asking for. “This is all I can give.”
He looked like a god, on his knees above her, brows drawn, dark eyes gleaming, midsection flexing as he drove her slowly insane. When he smiled, white teeth bared possessively, she knew it wasn’t because he was happy. He came down over her, still holding her legs while he braced his weight on his hands, his kiss this time close to feral. “This’ll do for a start.”
Then he let loose, pounding into her as if he’d completely lost control. She screamed, an orgasm taking her so hard she felt blinded, only to be tossed under the waves of a second and a third, all the while his thrusts growing wilder and faster and deeper. Distantly she heard him cry out, felt him let go of her legs so he could bury his face in the crook of her neck.
Both gasping, they hung on to each other with arms that seemed to have lost their strength. Penelope couldn’t seem to open her eyes, not even when he slid free of her, shifting only to pull off the condom and dispose of it in the nearby wastebasket. Then, sleepily amused, she let him shift her into a spooning position, her back to his front. He pulled the blankets over them, wrapping his arm tightly around her middle before whispering, “This is only the beginning, querida.”
“Mm-hmmm.” Exhausted, she dropped into a deep, satisfied sleep, warmer and safer than she’d ever felt in her life.
{{{
Raul came off the truck, cricking his neck to the side and shaking mud off his boots. The landslide in the eastern edge of RDC wasn’t the worst one they’d ever dealt with, but it was still a pain in the…neck. A good two tons of hillside had melted into the backyard of a property because of near-flooding rains, knocking down trees and plowing half the house down with the people still in it.
Already sloughing his gear, all he wanted to do was head upstairs, hit the showers and possibly abuse his position so he could get first dibs on the therapeutic tub. Damn probies. They weren’t the first crew he’d ever worked with that fucked up a shaky support, but you sure as hell wouldn’t be able to tell by the bruise he could already feel forming on his thigh. Not to mention the dog scratches on his neck.
People he could figure out how to calm while they extracted them. Dogs, there was no hope for. Especially not two-hundred-pound German Shepherds wedged hopelessly in a pile of mud and broken wall pieces. As a bonus, the dog had a broken leg. Raul had a trio of scratches under his jaw that stung like a sonofabitch because of all the dirt. The only upside was the good chance he had of convincing Penelope that he needed some extra special care.
Just the th
ought took some of the drag out of his sore leg.
At least it did until he saw the small but still statuesque older woman sitting in the row of seats outside his office, watching him with a look he could only interpret as distaste. He stopped and stared, an uncomfortable splat of wet dirt falling from his hat to the concrete beneath his boots. Around him, other guys were unloading, all of them as filthy as him, if not worse, most of them complaining avidly, but he barely noticed them.
Lorna Gibson, waiting for him.
This couldn’t be good. He hadn’t seen her since Thanksgiving—a disaster of a completely different kind—and he’d been pretty happy that way. All three of them had—himself, Penelope and especially Chloe.
In the weeks since that holiday dinner, he had made all kinds of progress in his evil plan to win over the woman of his dreams. She talked to him now, at the office when he stopped in to pick up Chloe and drop her back off, occasionally letting him sneak a quick kiss before he left. She picked up on the first ring for him now, when he’d call her before she went to bed on those nights when he was on duty. Friday nights they’d started treating as family night, going out to the movies or staying in to play cards or board games. And sometimes, if he managed to stay late enough for Chloe to go to bed, he’d get to wriggle Penelope out of her clothes and love her right to sleep. Chloe, God Bless her, seemed to be dedicated to her nine o’clock bedtime. Happiness was this close to being his.
But it looked like the devil had come for her due.
Taking off his hat, he walked over to the open hall at the back of the truck bay, staying a polite distance from the woman. She eyed him slowly from head to toe, taking in the dirt, the heavy fireproof pants and coat, and with his luck she could probably see through his clothes to his spleen.
He nodded in deference. “Mrs. Gibson.”
She eyed him coolly. “Mr. Montenga.”
“Captain, actually.” Not that he really gave a shit what she called him, but he had a feeling his chances to get a one-up on this woman were going to be few and far between.
“I assume you’ll want to clean up before you enter your office.” She sniffed, only wincing a little at the scent. So dogs peed when they were scared or in pain, big deal.
“I’d prefer it. If you can wait twenty minutes.” He’d lose the tub, but how often did Lorna Gibson show any interest in speaking to…well, anyone.
She blinked a few times when a cold breeze burst through the bay. Was it because of the sting of the icy air or the scintillating aroma of dog piss? “It’ll be worth the wasted time.”
He grinned. If she were the type to take it well, he’d have a hell of a good time trying to get under her skin. But about the only thing one could count on good old Lorna for was the utter incapability to be a good sport. “I’ll try for fifteen.”
He made it back down in twelve. His hair was still wet, but that was fine, at least it was clean. Unfortunately, the bruise in his thigh was so wide and deep he was surprised he couldn’t see it through the other side of his leg. Oh yeah, Pen would baby him silly for this one. It was almost worth getting dented in by a swinging support beam in the first place.
Dressed in a fresh uniform, the white polo and dark blue Dickies that were practically his second skin, he opened the door for Lorna and allowed her to enter first. Since the last thing he expected was the need for privacy, he left the curtains open over the large window between his space and the hallway.
Lorna took one of the two seats available in front of the desk, sinking into it with nigh on political decorum. She wore a simple, mid-calf-length gray skirt, a fairly basic white buttoned blouse, her tan rain slicker folded neatly over her arm. For an older woman, she was still in pretty good shape. Lean, her face still smooth—though he wondered if that had anything to do with her general lack of expression—and her hair up in that old-style bun thing that always made him think of fifties sitcom moms. Her hair wouldn’t dare so much as shift in the hard wind and rain coming down outside.
Raul headed toward his desk, determined not to limp in front of her. He might not particularly like Lorna—the unpleasant truth that she made him feel perpetually eight chose that moment to prod him—but he’d be damned if he looked weak in front of her. She had far too much sway with her daughter and he couldn’t afford to make her an enemy. “So what can I do for you today, Mrs. Gibson?”
“Nothing terribly taxing. I’m simply here to ask you a question or two.” She waited for him to sink, gratefully, into his chair. “I suppose I should simply cut directly to the point. You’ve been spending a great deal of time with my daughter and I’ve come to ask for myself what your intentions are this time around.”
“My intentions.” She wouldn’t appreciate a chuckle, he knew it, but it escaped anyway.
“Yes, your intentions. I failed to ask before you moved away last time, leaving me to help raise your illegitimate child. As that was such a physically demanding endeavor and I am notably older, I decided it was in our best interests to enquire if you’ll be staying this time.”
Raul’s brows rose almost painfully high. Well. Never let it be said Lorna Gibson pulled her punches. “This time—” he choked, spotting Josh walking past the window and looking visibly surprised to see Lorna in here with him. Josh’s slow grin and even slower progress down the hall had Raul groaning.
“Yes, Mr. Montenga, this time. I wasn’t aware your conversational skills were limited to repetition.”
He frowned, Josh forgotten. “I’m not leaving.”
Lorna nodded but he couldn’t tell if she found that reassuring or not. “Do you intend to keep seeing my daughter?”
He’d have to go with not. On the other side of the glass, Josh gestured to…shit, Wilde. Willy, tattoos flexing over his pale arms as he adjusted the white towel around his bare waist, laughed at what was clearly an inquisition. “Yes,” Raul replied through gritting teeth.
“Do you think that’s wise?” Lorna’s steely gaze demanded all his attention. “Let’s be honest. My daughter has a certain…vulnerability when it comes to you. Personally, I’ve never understood the attraction, but clearly it’s an incurable weakness.”
“Thank you.” What else could you say to something like that?
Lorna shrugged. “The reason I ask is because you seem dead set on regaining her affections, but I don’t think you’re grasping what exactly it is that you’re inviting. If you keep this up, Mr. Montenga, she will love you.”
Raul decided to ignore the extra bodies filling the hall. “That’s the idea.”
Lorna tsked. “I was afraid of that after Thanksgiving.”
Penelope had been adamant about spending the holiday with her mother, in her own house. So he’d surprised them and gone there. Pen had definitely been surprised, but—he decided—also pleased because she hadn’t asked him to leave. She’d let him kiss her cheek, hand her a bottle of wine and stay long enough to help her put the dishes away. Lorna hadn’t hidden her suspicion that something was going on between them, but she’d been smart enough not to say anything while Chloe was there, demanding he watch football with her. Except for all the narrow-eyed glaring and needling, it had been a fairly decent holiday.
“What is it that’s bothering you about this, Lorna? That I want to be with Penelope or that you have some confused notion of me interfering in your relationship with her?”
“Oh, I have no illusions about my relationship with my daughter. I know quite well that I’ve never been the parent she’d hoped for. Penelope takes after her father when it comes to her emotions, a fact that has not served her well in regards to you. She’s soft, prone to reacting to situations without thinking them through completely. She would have preferred someone who could have related to her. I’m not particularly maternal nor am I the type of person to paint fantasies where they don’t belong. I’m a realist.
“The reality of this situation is that my daughter doesn’t need you. She’s educated beyond you. Even if she didn’t earn a proper liv
ing on her own, I’ve already seen to it that she and Chloe will be provided for long after I’m gone. You, on the other hand, have done virtually nothing—with the exception of providing sperm—to warrant my daughter’s affections or trust, but she hands them both to you without question, evidenced by her complete inability to protect herself legally or personally. It is now painfully obvious to me that someone must step in to ensure that neither she nor my granddaughter get hurt any further.
“So I ask you again. What are your intentions? Are you trying to soften her up, hoping to take advantage of your paternity to cash in on her or Chloe’s money?”
“Excuse me?” Even with the bum leg, it was all he could do not to stand up and throw the old bat out.
Lorna blinked. “I thought the question was rather self-explanatory. If you’d like, I can break it down into smaller syllables.”
Fuck the leg. He rose, leaning onto the desk so he could look her dead in the eye. “I don’t want or need Penelope’s money.”
“I don’t suggest lying to me, Mr. Montenga.” Lorna’s voice could have formed icicles from his ceiling. “I’m well aware of your reputation in this town. The carousing you did when you were younger. The absolute disregard for your family and my daughter spoke for you quite well. Bluntly, you are not a suitable choice for her, but against all sense and reason, she refuses to have anyone else.
“So if I find out that you’re toying with her, that you’ve given her hope for nothing more than your own benefit, I will see to it that you, your future and your family become nothing more than a misbegotten figment of my imagination.”
Raul reared back, unable to believe that he’d just been threatened by a woman thirty years older than him, who hadn’t so much as batted an eyelash while she did it. In fact, she looked just as unperturbed now as she’d been when she first sat down. Worse, he was pretty sure she’d be able to pull off her vow in much the same fashion.
