by Linde, K. A.
He made a disgruntled noise like he was about to say something about the fact that he owned a gun—it wouldn’t be the first time—but I ushered everyone back inside. My father had served more than twenty years in the military and was now a local cop. He’d had a gun in his hand most of his life. And he liked to intimidate every guy who walked into our house. Poor Mel had had it worse than I ever had since our dad still hated Michael despite practically helping raise him. I knew better than to bring guys home.
My mother was standing in the living room, looking like a straight ray of sunshine in the most outrageously wonderful hippie clothes. “Hello, and welcome!” she said. “You must be Penn. I’m Natasha, and I see you’ve already met my husband, James. We’re thrilled that you’re here.”
My dad grunted behind Penn.
Penn put on the charm and hugged my mother, who beamed at the approach. “It’s so good to meet you. I have heard so much about you. I’d love to see your shop.”
“Oh dear, I knew that you’d be as slick as a snake. I cannot believe that you’re a summer solstice baby. You have all the makings of a Sagittarius.” She waved her hand. “No matter. We’ll read tarot later and figure it all out.”
Penn smiled at her in a bemused way. “Looking forward to that.”
“Excellent. Have you ever had tarot read?”
“Mom,” I groaned.
“I haven’t. First time for everything,” Penn said amicably.
“Natasha, don’t bother him with that stuff,” my dad said.
“I’ll have you know, philosophy has the same roots as the mystic arts,” my mom said with a sly smile. She winked at me. “He has a good aura.”
I shook my head and just let it happen. I’d prepared Penn as best I could. My mother, the dreamer songbird, who ran an apothecary shop and read tea leaves and tarot and the stars and anything that predicted the future. My father, the strict religious military man, who must have married her out of love because how else could it have worked?
“It’s late,” Melanie said. “I’m going to go back to the dorm. I just wanted to be here to say hi. You’ll meet Michael tomorrow.”
“Looking forward to it,” Penn said.
“Are you?” I grumbled.
He shot me a look that said, Behave.
“Nat, please, please, please don’t bring the stuff up from last year. Michael gets really uncomfortable about it all. I want this to all go smoothly.”
“I won’t bring it up. I’m here for you.”
Melanie exhaled in relief. “Awesome. I’m going to head out then. Still have class in the a.m.” She grinned at Penn. “Sorry to say that you’ll get my room. It’s a bit pink.”
“I appreciate the hospitality,” he said carefully.
I tried to hold in my laugh.
“We’re tired, too. I think we should all get some sleep, so we can wake up bright and early,” Natasha said. “So wonderful meeting you, Penn.”
“You, too, Mrs. Bishop.”
“Please, it’s Natasha.”
I took his hand and pulled him toward the stairs. “Come on. I’ll show you where you’re sleeping.”
“Separate rooms,” my father said from the bottom of the stairs.
“Night, Daddy,” I said, rolling my eyes when I turned my back. “You’d think I was still in school.”
“He has rules. I can appreciate someone with principles.”
“You’re too good,” I said, opening the door to Melanie’s room.
Penn’s eyes widened in horror.
“It’s more than a little pink.”
“You think? Pink fucking exploded in here,” Penn said.
He eyed the twin bed as if he’d never seen one before. I realized he might not have ever slept on one.
“This okay?”
“Of course,” he said at once. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because I know you, and this isn’t what you’re used to.”
“It’s a glimpse into you. I’ll be fine in here. Where will you be?” He glanced down the hallway as if he could guess which bedroom had been mine.
“Are you having inappropriate thoughts?” I asked slyly.
He pressed a chaste kiss to my lips. “Never.”
“Oh, I’m sure. My room is the second door on the right. The bathroom is the first if you want to brush your teeth or shower or whatever.”
“Thank you.”
I reached up onto my toes and kissed him again. “I’ll miss you in my bed tonight.”
He groaned. “Are you trying to kill me? A man can only take so much.”
“Just imagine me tonight. All alone. Thinking about you,” I whispered against his ear. “Touching myself while I think about you.”
His fingers dug into my skin. “Fuck, Natalie.”
“Yes, please.”
“I should not think about those things while in your sister’s pink bedroom.”
I laughed and kissed his earlobe. “Touché. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night.”
I’d been dreaming about Penn. We were on a beach, snuggled up under the night sky with nothing but each other for comfort. It was peaceful and wonderful, and I hadn’t wanted to wake up.
But my door had creaked. There was this creak that never went away, no matter how much WD-40 we sprayed on it. My eyes flew open, and I jerked my head to the side…only to find Penn shutting the creaky door behind him.
My eyebrows rose in surprise as he tiptoed across the room and then put his hand against my shoulder.
“Natalie,” he whispered.
“I’m awake,” I whispered.
I scooted over in bed and held the covers up. Mine was only a twin, but it would be better than not having him here at all. I rolled onto my side to give him more room, and he slipped under the sheets next to me.
“That was terrifying,” he admitted.
I giggled softly. “Have you ever snuck into someone’s bedroom?”
“Sure. But not when their parents were down the hall. Usually, it was more sneaking out because the person was dating someone else…or married.”
“You were terrible.”
“True,” he agreed. His fingers splayed on my hip and drew lazy circles into my skin. “This sneaking is way more fun.”
“Way more fun,” I agreed, pressing a kiss to his lips.
“Did you think about me?” he begged.
I slid his hand down the front of my small sleep shorts and let him feel the wetness there.
He leaned into my shoulder. “Fuck.”
Then he began to massage me. Easy circles around my sensitive clit. Slicking a finger through my folds and then drawing the wetness up to use against my clit. His leg shifted over mine, holding it down on the bed, and then he pressed my other leg further away, securing me open for him.
I whimpered at the sweet agony of him touching me and not getting inside me. “Penn,” I groaned.
“Shh,” he said, swallowing my word with his mouth. “Show me how you came for yourself.”
His erection pressed hard into my stomach, and I reached out with trembling fingers and wrapped my hand around him. I stroked. He stroked. Soft, urgent noises erupted from us. As quiet as we could be. And it only made it hotter. Trying not to be heard so desperately that the heat just built and built and built. Until he flicked against me one more time, and I shuddered into orgasm.
He lengthened even further in my hand as I gasped and came undone from his ministrations. He was close, too. Just from this.
I let the waves of pleasure release, and then I slid down on the bed and replaced my hand with my mouth. Penn groaned deep in the back of his throat at the heat of me on his cock. The feel of me stroking him up and down, up and down, while my tongue ran up his shaft.
I handled him with ease as he managed to get even longer. He gripped my hair in his hand, urging me deep onto his cock. Demanding me to take him fully. To relax my jaw and deep-throat him. I swallowed once and then slowly took him all
in.
He tightened his grip on my hair, holding me down for a split second. Just when I thought I couldn’t take it, his hips thrust slightly, and he shot hot cum down my throat. I swallowed reflexively, pulling back to suck him clean.
He lay, pressed against my childhood bed, nearly naked, looking sated. He held his arms out. “Come here.”
I stepped into his embrace and sighed in bliss. He stroked his fingers through the hair he’d just been pulling vigorously.
“Should that have been as invigorating as it was?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Mmm,” I murmured.
“You know you have stars on your ceiling,” he said after a minute.
I nodded, staring up at the glowing constellations that I’d put up myself when we first moved in. I’d always been obsessed with them since my mother told me the stories of the stars when I was a child.
I pointed to the right of us. “Corona Borealis.”
“Our crown,” he said, kissing my hair.
“Always my favorite story,” I told him.
His fingers continued their slow stroking as we stared up at our own night sky. “Ours is my favorite story.”
Chapter 21
Natalie
Michael was a prick. And he was draining the joy out of being home.
I could tell that Penn was on a short tether. He had a temper on a good day. And he’d already walked into this situation, hating Michael. So, him acting like a piece of shit didn’t help. And Penn’s tolerance for entitled, poor little rich boys was pretty high, all things considered.
“I was telling Melanie that my business professor wanted me to work with him for this internship this summer. He knows my father, of course. The Baldwins are a household name here in Charleston. Surely, you’ve heard of my father, Thomas Baldwin,” Michael said to the dull-eyed crowd in the living room.
“No,” Penn said, his pointer finger resting on his temple while his elbow sank into the arm of his chair. “Can’t say that I have.”
“Well, no matter,” Michael went on. “I think I’m going to take this internship and do a little unpaid work to get my foot in the door.”
“Like you need it,” I grumbled under my breath.
“Natalie,” Melanie admonished.
Who knew that, after a few short months on the Upper East Side, I wouldn’t be able to deal with a little…well, a lot of narcissism?
“I think we need to get out for a minute,” I said, jumping to my feet.
Penn stood, too. “Excellent idea.”
Michael glanced between us with disdain. “Don’t want to hear about my internship?”
“Oh, we wish we could, but I remember my mom saying she needed help,” I said, fighting back an eye roll.
Penn tipped his head at Michael and then veered us out of the living room.
“What a prick,” he hissed into my ear as soon as we were out of earshot. “If I had to listen to another word out of his mouth, I was going to give him a real lesson on business, and it wouldn’t have been pretty.”
I laughed. “Right? He’s the worst.”
“He really is. Why is Melanie with him?”
“I don’t know. They’ve been together forever. She doesn’t see his flaws anymore. Just his sort of pretty face and the money that she’s never had…the life she could have.”
“She’d be better off with this life than what he’s going to offer. I know many people who married people just like him, albeit with a lot more money and prestige. And now, they’re either miserable or divorced. Not worth it.”
“Like Katherine?” I asked.
He sighed. “Katherine made her bed. Now, she has to lie in it. Though, to be honest, she looked pretty happy to see Camden at the gala.”
I stopped in my tracks. “Are you telling me that Katherine is happy to be married to Camden Percy?”
“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “I thought she’d be glad to be out of his clutches after a month alone. But I can read her better than anyone, and I would definitely say it was at least relief on her face.”
I ground my teeth together. Fuck that. I’d thought Katherine would be nice and miserable, marrying that douche. She’d gotten what she deserved. Earned this isolation and torment. I didn’t want her to find peace and be happy with Camden fucking Percy, who made Michael look like a fucking saint.
“Let’s not talk about her,” Penn said hastily.
“Fine,” I muttered.
We stepped into the kitchen where my mother was standing over a book on astrology. She didn’t look up until we were practically on top of her.
“Oh hello, dears. Having fun with Michael?” she asked with a knowing smile.
“Do you have any errands that would get us out of the house?” I begged.
She nodded. “Here.” She passed me a slip of paper. “Can you get the cake from the grocery store? We already have everything else for the party out back. Take as long as you need.”
“Thank you,” I said with a sigh. “Michael is so…”
“Isn’t he?” my mother said. “Blocked energy, that one. All muddied and black around the edges. He could use a chakra cleansing.”
I snorted. “Good luck telling him that.”
“I did try,” she said.
Penn grinned. “I’m sure that went over well.”
“Men are generally skeptics anyway,” she said, brushing it off. “He’s young. He has time. Now, go on. Get out of here. And take your father’s car.”
“Dad’s car?” I asked in surprise. “Does he know that you’re letting us drive the Chevelle?”
She winked. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
“Come on, Penn. Let’s get out of here before my dad finds out.”
I snatched the keys hanging next to the door and pulled Penn out of the house. I veered him around back to my dad’s precious, restored 1960s Chevy Chevelle. It was the only thing that my straightlaced father had ever put time and energy into. And it made no sense since he was hardly the kind of man who would drive around a bright orange muscle car. But he did. One of the things I loved about him.
“What a car,” Penn said in awe. “Can I drive?”
I shot him an incredulous look. “Yeah, right, Kensington.” I popped the driver’s door. “We don’t trust city boys to handle stick shifts down here in the South.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Should I make a joke about you handling my stick shift?”
“Would I have even set you up if I didn’t expect you to spike the ball?” I said, dropping into the seat.
Penn sank into the passenger seat. “I liked the way you handled it last night.”
“I think you still handled me,” I said, warmth hitting my cheeks.
“I think you liked that even better.”
My eyes were shining with excitement. “Maybe.”
Then I peeled out of the driveway and hit the open road into town. We zipped through the city in my dad’s car that handled better than anything else I’d ever driven. I’d only been behind the driver’s seat a handful of times, and all had been with my dad’s supervision. He’d probably go through the roof if he knew that my mom had sent us out in it.
“You really love this,” Penn said thoughtfully.
“Who wouldn’t?”
“But it lights you up.”
“I guess it does. Maybe because he’s always had this car. Through move after move after move from the military, we kept the car. The only time we didn’t have it was when we were stationed in Germany. And he stressed the whole time about it not being driven enough or getting hurt by my uncle, my mom’s brother.”
“You’re more like him than you think.”
“I keep hearing that. My mom and Mel said the same thing when they convinced me to move to New York.”
“They convinced you?” he asked as I pulled into the parking lot for the grocery store. “I didn’t know that. I thought it was Lewis.”
“Well, Lewis and Jane planted the
idea. But it was really my mom and Melanie who were the ones who thought it was the right choice.” I hopped out of the car and walked with him into our favorite grocery store. “They said that I was happiest when I could move around a lot. That Charleston wasn’t my home and I needed to go where my heart took me.”
“And that was New York.”
“It’s something in the water,” I joked.
“Do you feel like your writing is better for it? Are you freer?”
I nodded after a pause. “Yes, and no. I feel like New York is where I should be. My writing is so, so much better there. Like it just pours out of me from all the energy I’m absorbing from the city.” I glanced over at him with a laugh. “Don’t tell my mom I said that.”
“Noted.”
“But also…no, because I’m not really any freer. There are just new restrictions. And with Lewis stalking me and Katherine purposely trying to ruin my life, it’s more constricting than ever.”
He sighed. “Hopefully, we’ll hear about the restraining order on Monday, and you can stop stressing. As far as Katherine is concerned, I think she has her hands full with Percy. Let’s hope she stays out of it.”
I stopped then at the entrance to the grocery store. “Is that what you really think?”
“What do you mean?”
“That I should just hope Katherine leaves me alone? After what she’s done to me? She’s the queen of staying two steps ahead. I don’t think I want to hope that she’s too distracted to realize that I’m becoming an insider in her circle.”
“No, I don’t. I want her to leave you alone. But we don’t even know what she could try to do to you.”
“Then maybe we should figure it out,” I said, walking with him again. “Because I don’t want a repeat of her wedding.”
“All right,” he said calmly. “I’ll give it some thought.” Then he frowned. “I’m not sure this should be a lesson.”
“What?” I asked in confusion.
“How to think like Katherine Van Pelt.”
“I don’t want it to be a lesson. But if you think I need it to survive her, then teach me your ways, oh wise one.”