His Sword

by Holly Hart

  It’s something bigger. Thicker.

  I lean forward, and beckon for Charlie’s ear. Once he clocks what I want, he turns it toward me with the eagerness to please of a horny teenage boy.

  “I get horny,” I growl, right as the private jet lifts off the runway. My stomach drops away, but my palm meets Charlie’s cock. I massage it, savoring it’s length, dreaming of its heat inside me. “Really, really horny. So what I’m asking, Charlie…”

  “Yes?” Charlie breathes.

  “Is when are you planning on doing something about it.”

  My heart beats once, twice.

  The seatbelt sign flicks off.

  Charlie unbuckles his seatbelt.

  I let out a breath.

  Charlie lets me out of my seat.

  My heart beats once, twice.

  Charlie grabs me by the hips.

  He carries me to the bed.

  The plane vibrates beneath us.

  “Charlie,” I moan. “Don’t you dare go slow.”

  That’s the sound that breaks the camel’s back, or torpedoes the dam. Whatever your metaphor, Charlie’s resolve shatters into a thousand pieces, like shards of a tumbling mirror.

  “It’s safe, right,” he moans as he undoes his fly.

  “Perfectly,” I say. “I’m not some China doll.”

  “Thank God for that.”

  And then Charlie’s hands are on me. He undoes his shirt with one hand, my jeans with his other. I reach for his cock, and suddenly we’re lost in a tornado of fumbling hands and snatched kisses and flying clothing.

  “God, you’re hot,” Charlie groans. “So fucking hot.”

  “You won’t be saying that in a couple of months,” I say lightly. It’s a joke. Mostly. “Not when I get fat.”

  Charlie gives up trying to unbutton my top and grips it off me. The three-hundred dollar shirt rips at every seam, and he tosses it carelessly onto the floor.

  “I’ll buy you a new one,” he shrugs. “Besides, you’re gonna need them, aren’t you?”

  “I suppose.”

  Charlie leans forward, dropping his lips to mine. “I don’t fucking care if you get fat,” he growls. “You could be any shape, any size, and I wouldn’t stop loving you. And you know what?” He growls.

  I tip my head back as Charlie’s fingers start to explore my body. “What?” I moan.

  “I can’t wait,” Charlie says, probing between my legs with his fingers. “I can’t wait till I can hold your tits in my hands like melons. Until your ass grows five sizes and I can use it like a fucking trampoline to bounce off.

  “God, you’re wet –”

  The offhand, almost surprised comment right at the end throws me off. I open my eyes, look at the expression of sheer lust on Charlie’s admiring face, see the honesty in his eyes, and I pull him down onto me.

  “I’m not joking,” I whisper. “I want to feel your thick cock inside me. I want to feel the thing that got me pregnant. That’s an order.”

  I don’t know what comes over me, but suddenly I’m talking like a foulmouthed pregnant sailor.

  I’m delighting in being pregnant. It’s been four long years, four years of IVF and doctor’s appointments – of me crying that I wasn’t good enough, of Charlie holding me tight and whispering that he’s never wanted any other girl.

  So now I’m finally pregnant, I’m going to yell it from 30,000 feet.

  “Well,” Charlie grins. “If all your cravings are going to be so easy for me to satisfy, I guess it’s going to be an easy nine months…”

  “Seven months,” I groan as Charlie feeds his cock into me. I keep my eyes open – somehow, grab Charlie’s shoulder and pull him into me. “Seven months of this, whenever, wherever I want. You understand?”

  “Oh,” Charlie grins, grazing my lips with his. “I think I do.”

  He grabs my hips and thrusts into me. Every time Charlie Thorne fucks me, I think I’m dreaming. His cock is so big it’s scarcely believable. As he pushes into me, every nerve ending in my body explodes, sending my brain little messages of pleasure.

  “Believe me, Penny,” Charlie says. “I’ll never get bored of fucking you. I’ll never get bored of making you come. I’ll never get bored of feeling your cunt –,” he grins, daring me to take offense, “– gripping my cock like it’s got a mind of its own.”

  “Shut up,” I moan. “Just shut up and fuck –”

  And Charlie does. He flips me over in a motion I can’t figure out. Suddenly I’m on my front, and Charlie slaps my ass, and his cock explodes in and out of me like a jackhammer. It’s unbearable. My head tilts forward, red hair flowing like a fiery waterfall down to the white bedsheets.

  I grip them – the sheets – holding on for dear life as the orgasm begins to crack across my body. I hear it, first – like thunder breaking at the leading edge of a thunderstorm. Then the lightning – electric shocks that singe my body, my skin, my nipples.

  “Charlie,” I groan. “Charlie – I’m going to come!”

  “That’s the point, Penny,” he grunts, squeezing my ass and thrusting as deep as he can get his cock. His pelvis meets my cheeks, and I groan, biting my lip as a blackness overtakes me.

  The orgasm hits.

  OmigodOmigodOmigodOmigod.

  My brain stops working. I’m lost in a world of pleasure and pain and longing and desire. I feel Charlie’s heat bloom inside me, and then the world goes black.

  As the waves of pleasure break over my body, Charlie leans forward and whispers into my ear.

  “Now,” he says in a gruff whisper. “Let’s see if we can’t give our baby a twin.”

  That’s not how any of this works. I know Charlie knows that. And I don’t care.

  Because I want more.

  Chapter Two

  Deleted Kinky Scene

  Hey girls!

  I hope you enjoyed the Extended Epilogue. If so, and you STILL want more, then I’ve got a hot deleted scene for your enjoyment!

  I’m calling this a “deleted scene”, but that’s not strictly speaking true. It’s not set in the same timeline as Faking It. I would say it probably happens about a year after the events set in the book. However, sometimes when I’m writing a story, I like to delve quite deeply into how my characters would react in a given situation.

  Sometimes I might write a scene where they meet an old friend in a coffee shop, for example, and just see where the characters take me. This kind of thing never ends up in the final book. I’m not even sure anyone would want to read it other than me! However, they are really useful as writing exercises, and I definitely think they give the books added depth.

  This particular scene struck me one afternoon.

  Obviously Penny is a virgin at the start of Faking It. She’s awkward with her own body, and around sex. Who wouldn’t be! Nineteen isn’t exactly a crazy age to lose your virginity by any means, but given her background (growing up homeless), it’s probably a little unusual.

  Maybe she felt embarrassed about it.

  I wanted to know how a girl like Penny would react in some different situations. One I thought about – and really, really liked – was what would happen if Penny and Charlie decided to spice up their relationship!

  I think we’ve all done this at one point or another in a long-term relationship. In fact, I think it’s a super-important part of a relationship with many couples. You don’t want to get bored! Anyway – I’m no agony aunt, so I’ll just get to the point. I decided to make Penny and Charlie try out a little light kinkiness. I hope you like what happened when I did…

  So, without further ado, here it is:

  Charlie turns his head slowly.

  There’s a light in his eyes: a fire. I can tell what he’s thinking. Did she really just say that?

  “Run that one by me again,” he says, eyebrow kinked. “Just so I know I didn’t hear you wrong.”

  “You didn’t. I want to spice things up,” I say.

  My cheeks immediately adopt their
usual blushing heat. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over my awkwardness about sex. That awkwardness, though, is only skin-deep. The truth is, I’m mad about Charlie. I’ve never met a man like him.

  Some couples claim they never argue. I don’t know if that’s true about Charlie and me. We argue. Sure, from time to time he does something that just grinds my gears.

  But the one thing we never have is resentment. We argue, and then – like a spring squall – the irritation is gone, never to return.

  And the sex.

  Oh, boy – the sex.

  I guess some girls like to shop around before they settle down with a man. The truth is that I never needed to. The first time Charlie Thorne made me come, I was already his wife. A year has gone by, and he still hasn’t stopped.

  “No, really,” Charlie says, a slow grin beginning to creep across his face. “I don’t think I heard you right.”

  I shoot my lover and husband a scowl. “Shut up. You heard exactly what I said.”

  Charlie takes a step towards me. He glances over his shoulder, just checking that Tilly’s not about to walk into the kitchen and interrupt us. She’s in her room, packing her rucksack ready for a full day of school.

  “So,” he growls, dragging his tongue across his bottom lip. I trace the movement with my eyes, already feeling the telltale signs of arousal beginning to come on inside me. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Later,” I whisper anxiously, glancing down the hallway.

  Tilly might have just passed her twelfth birthday, but that’s still no kind of age to be hearing her father – and adopted mother – discuss the kind of naughtiness that I have on my mind.

  “You’re killing me, Pen…” Charlie groans.

  I wink back at my husband. “It’ll be worth the wait…”

  “You’re not taking Tilly to school today?” I tease the second Charlie’s daughter disappears behind the closing elevator doors.

  The lift’s mechanism whirrs into action, spiriting Tilly down forty floors in a matter of seconds.

  I catch a glimpse of Charlie through my dancing red fringe. What’s he doing –?

  I don’t have to wait long to find out. He drives towards me, a look of single-minded, lustful intent on his face. I take a step back, but Charlie’s too fast. His hands settle on my hips, and he presses me forward, carrying me until my back meets the cool glass of the penthouse wall.

  For a second, memory fills my mind.

  I remember Charlie doing this the first time we were alone together. I glance at my shoulder, and see the same sight – New York falling away beneath me. The sprawling city induces the same sense of dizzying vertigo now as it did then.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper, biting my lip as Charlie’s palm grazes the side of my torso.

  “I want to know what’s on your mind,” he growls. “What are you thinking, you minx?”

  Charlie steals my breath away.

  He still looks at me with exactly the same awe as he did the first time I told him I was a virgin. I’ve never felt the way I do when I see this particular light in Charlie Thorne’s glittering gray eyes.

  It’s a light that tells me there is absolutely nothing other than me on my husband’s mind. It’s a kind of power in its own way, I guess.

  I turn my head away, hiding a half-smile. “Now I come to think of it,” I say, fighting against my breathy lungs. “Maybe we’re spicy enough. Don’t you have –?”

  Charlie scrapes his morning stubble against my neck and kisses me where it stings. “Don’t you dare say work, Penny. I’ve cleared my schedule. I’m home all day. Ella’s under strict instructions not to disturb me And you know why?”

  “Why?” I whisper, still feigning disinterest.

  I already know the answer. Charlie’s not going to let me play him. Not today. He’s burning up with desire. I feel the heat of it on my cheeks, even from the warmth of his breath as it tickles against my neck.

  “Because I’m going to fuck you,” Charlie says, a look of wicked, delighted pleasure creeping across his face. “Tear those pajamas off your perfect, freckled skin. Pick you up against this glass, if I have to, and bury my head between your legs.”

  I nod my head before I know what I’m doing.

  “Yes,” I say. The word escapes my lips like a whispered moan. “Yes, do that.”

  There’s no embarrassment on my cheeks now. There’s heat, though. The heat of burning desire. Charlie’s description of what he wants to do to me is all that I can think about.

  Charlie drags his palm back down my side, shaping his fingernails into a soft, teasing claw. He uses it to scrape my skin beneath the thin cotton fabric of my pajama top, then drags it lower, between my legs, and grinds his palm against my burning slit.

  “Not until you tell me what you’re thinking,” he murmurs. He leans forward, nibbling my earlobe, and I feel the heat of his breath licking at my ear. It tickles. “Don’t leave anything out.”

  “I wouldn’t dare,” I whisper.

  I exhale slowly, trying to figure out how to say this. The idea has been on the tip of my tongue for the last couple of days. Charlie’s body is still as magnificent as it was a year ago – almost to the day I met him.

  He makes me come every night, and sometimes every morning as well.

  But I want more.

  Charlie Thorne has unlocked something inside me – a devil, driving me on. I want to experience things that would’ve made me blush just weeks ago. I want to set my soul free.

  “What would you do to me?” I ask, unable to tear my mind away from the touch of Charlie’s palm against my mound, or from the heat of his skin against mine. “If you could do anything, what would you do?

  “That’s not fair,” Charlie groans, tipping his head back and rolling his neck. “You first.”

  The heat of embarrassment returns, just for a second, flushing my neck and cheeks. I squeeze my eyes shut. It’s the only way I’ll be able to do this.

  “I want you to tie me up,” I admit.

  My knees go weak as I say the words.

  “You want me to do what?” Charlie chokes.

  For a second, I can’t figure out the tone in his voice. Is he disgusted, or –

  “Oh, yes, Penny,” Charlie growls. “Fuck yes. You read my mind.”

  “And –”

  I squeeze my eyes shut again, turning away. The embarrassment is real now. It feels like a person right here in this empty penthouse with us. If anyone heard me saying things like this, I’d want the ground to swallow me up, right then and there.

  “And?” Charlie’s voice teases me, throaty with desire.

  “I want you to talk dirty to me,” I say.

  Hell, by the time the words come out of my mouth, my voice is weak. My voice cracks like a boy going through puberty, but I do my best to push on.

  “I already do,” Charlie says. He sounds surprised. “Don’t I?”

  I nod my head vigorously. “You do,” I whisper. “But I want more. I want you to, to –”

  I feel Charlie move a couple of inches. Then the heat of his breath on the side of my neck. I feel him lean forward once again so his lips near my ear.

  “You want me to treat you like my little slut, don’t you Penny?” Charlie growls. He sounds like he barely believes his own luck.

  My knees go weak, and I lean on the glass behind me for support. Charlie’s the only thing holding me up.

  “Yes…”

  I freeze.

  “Where are you?” I whisper.

  The silk blindfold blocks out every last scrap of light. I have no idea where Charlie got it on such short notice – or the silk rope that binds my ankles and wrists.

  Is there a billionaire’s concierge service that deals with weird requests like this? I should ask –

  “You’re going to be my little whore, aren’t you Penny?” Charlie growls.

  His voice is powerful and commanding. Right at the start, I think I detect a slight hint of apprehension
before he says the word “whore.”

  It fills me with happiness. I know that Charlie would never treat a woman this way unless – like me – they downright begged for it.

  Even then, he’s too good a man to do it without just a second’s hesitation.

  I nod.

  “Use your words, slut,” Charlie says.

  My eyes are covered, but I can imagine the wicked smile that’s creeping across his face as he says it. The truth is, the image of Charlie Thorne my mind conjures up isn’t even close to being as sexy as the real thing.

  “Yes,” I groan.

  I press my legs together, trying to do what I can to encourage the fire building between them without the use of my bound hands.

  “Yes what?”

  “Yes…” I say, scrabbling around the furthest reaches of my mind. What does Charlie want me to say? Then, like a bolt from the blue, I realize. A memory from right after we first met. “Yes, boss…”

  “Better,” Charlie says with approval.

  The bed’s silk sheets hiss as Charlie kneels down on it. I feel my body shift, falling into the well Charlie is creating with his thick, muscular weight.

  “You’re a hot little slut, you know that Penny?” Charlie whispers, scraping his fingernail down the front of my body.

  “I am?” I moan.

  Charlie moves his finger excruciatingly slowly. I’m wearing nothing but the sluttiest pair of panties and a bra I could find in my wardrobe. After a year of living with my husband – and of receiving the hot little presents he likes to give me – that particular wardrobe is pretty full!

  I arch my back up, straining to touch Charlie, to make him touch me.

  “Tell me what you want, Penny,” Charlie says, whispering into my ear.

  His voice is hoarse and gruff. He is acting completely in control – and truthfully, I’m impressed with his self-restraint – but I know my husband well enough to hear the desire his tone is laced with.

  “You,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut even beneath the blindfold.

  “Me what?”

  “I want you to – lick me out,” I yelp.