by Crymsyn Hart
Craving Penelope:
Book 1 of the Grigori
Crymsyn Hart
Published By Purple Sword Publications, LLC
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
CRAVING PENELOPE
Copyright © 2013 CRYMSYN HART
ISBN 978-1-61292-092-4
Cover Art Designed By Anastasia Rabiyah
Chapter One
His hands trailed up her thigh with a featherlight stroke; it barely seemed he was touching her at all, but she could feel every caress of his fingers. Those alone quaked her insides and left her wondering if she had died and gone to Heaven. When he added his lips into the mix, tracing some forgotten trail one of his fingers had traveled on her body before, nothing could stop Penelope from crying out. Each small flick of his tongue over her skin brought her to new plateaus she never dreamed she would reach, and this was only the beginning of his torture. Her hands were tied over her head, lashed together with soft leather straps that kept her immobile on the bed. He left her legs unfettered. No matter how much she begged, he would never release her. At times he would gag her to muffle her cries, but not tonight.
Penelope arched her back as his smooth hands parted her legs. The anticipation of what he would do next almost brought on her next orgasm. A low chuckle filled the darkened room. So thick was the blackness that it hid her lover’s face and most of his body.
All the times she begged him to light a candle, or even ignite a match so she could at least discover what he looked like, he refused. His anonymity added to the ecstasy of the moment. But it also frustrated her because she yearned to know who was making love to her. He was always in shadow. All she knew was the softness of his flesh and the firmness of his body, along with the size and girth of his cock. Her lover was skilled in the art of lovemaking, bringing her to amazing heights every time they were together. And tonight was no exception.
“You’re already wet for me. Very good.” He cupped her pussy, pressing his thumb against her clit.
“I need you inside of me,” Penelope implored him.
“I know you do,” he crooned, “but you just have to be a good girl and be patient.”
He worked her swollen nub in slow, arduous circles until Penelope felt the solid mattress dissolve underneath her, and she was floating. It was difficult to concentrate on the real world when her hips betrayed her and lifted of their own accord in time with her lover’s manipulations. Bursts of warmth fired through her body, fluttering her heart while he worked her into a frenzy. Penelope grasped the shackles that bound her while she bowed her back off the bed. Stars burst in her vision. She turned her head into the pillow, and it swallowed her cries. Those leisurely circles on her nub brought her to a height she did not think was possible from him not being inside of her. But her lover knew right where to hit her. Now all she needed was his prick pounding into her to feel complete.
“Please!” she begged.
“Come for me, Penny. Tell me how much you want it.”
Her mystery man worked her a little faster, but she could no longer fight it. Her heart danced a tango in her chest, it beat so fast. She rotated her hips in hopes of finding some part of him that might slip into her pussy, but nothing.
This was their game.
He would not give her anything until she complied. Penelope could no longer fight her body’s needs. It was either give in to the ecstasy while he massaged her clit, or he would cease pleasuring her, leaving her wanting. The frustration was not something she could handle tonight.
“Fuck me. Take me any way you want to. I don’t care.”
He laughed again, that velvety sound caressing all the places his hands were not. At that moment, she felt his mouth encircling her nipple. With his small bite and the pain of it, all the locks were thrown open on her desire and she was flooded until she thought she would drown in bliss.
But it did not stop there.
He sucked on her nipple and eased her legs open wider, while moving alongside her so that he was lying on top of her. She opened her eyes and looked down at her lover, but she could still see nothing of him. His hair brushed across her stomach, letting her know he had it down this time. Her lover released her nipple and licked a line down her belly. Each flick of his tongue enflamed her yearning once more. She pushed her hips up, but even with his weight on her, he was no heavier than a feather. Penelope drew in a breath when his tongue discovered her wet slit and lingered there for a moment, laving at her juices. He used long strokes to savor her, and when she found that crest again all that came from her lips was an animal cry of pure lust. His laugh was dark and devilish. He trailed his fingers up Penelope’s sides until she squirmed. It was at that exact point, when she could no longer take any more, that her lover slipped his dick into her pussy. Having him inside of her gave Penelope a sense of completeness she had not had when he was only torturing her. Feeling his shaft stretching her so that she could accommodate his size made her moan with yearning. She clutched the manacles, digging her nails into the cloth, and raised her hips in time to his slow thrusts.
“You feel so good, Penelope,” he uttered, sliding further into her.
“More!”
He obliged her by grasping her breasts and rubbing his thumbs over her pert nipples. The gesture sent bolts of fire along her insides. He quickened his pace, lunging inside of her so that each time he was a little deeper, hitting her clit, soaring her toward another climax that she was not sure she would ever come down from. Her breath came out in pants. Her lover claimed her lips in a hungry kiss, plunging his tongue into her mouth to meet hers. The taste of his lips reminded her of sucking on a fireball, that sweetness mixed with the hot burst of cinnamon. And she craved more of it. Hell, she craved more of him, to hold him and scrape her nails down his back while he pushed his prick into her, but the restraints held her back.
Her lover released her lips, kissed a slow line across her jaw and down her throat until he came to the dip at the base of her throat. He skimmed his tongue over the spot and covered it with his lips. At that moment, he drove into her and razed her throbbing clit. She pushed into him and felt the bed fall away. The pleasure of her orgasm zinged her nerves. Her lover moved inside of her once more and groaned. He rested on top of her, nestling his head on her chest, almost if he was listening to her heartbeat. This was the instance she truly yearned to touch him just to know he was real, but he would not release her. Finally, her lover lifted his head and brushed his lips across her mouth one last time. Even this close to him, she could not break through the dark shroud that concealed his identity from her. This saddened her because once, just once, she wanted to stare into the eyes of the man who made love to her. Penelope raised herself as far off the mattress as she could just to not be separated from him, but in the end he broke their kiss, leaving her wanting.
“Don’t worry. One day you will see me,” he said, reading her thoughts.
“That’s what you always say.”
He ran his finger down her cheek, and a whimper fell from her lips before she could stop it. “I know, but it’s true.”
Penelope went to say something else, but the world she was in crumbled to ashes, pulling her from the world of dreams into harsh reality. When her eyes opened to the sunlight streaming in her window, sometimes she saw a
shadow of her lover fading away into the cobwebs of her dreams. That morning was no different.
****
“I’ll never understand your enthrallment with them.” Lemiel shook his head.
Razziel glanced at his brother angel, who peered into the viewing pool at the fading form of the human woman whose dream he had just entered. An amused smile played across the other angel’s lips and lit up his violet eyes. He trailed a hand through his silver hair before crossing his hands over his chest and waited for a reply. Any answer Razziel could give would not satisfy the angel.
“Humans are fascinating creatures. They don’t know half of their potential,” Razziel answered.
“And this one does?”
He gazed at the pool and tried to come up with a believable response to explain why he was enamored with this particular female. “No.”
Lemiel smiled. “There must be something about her, because you’ve visited this one before.”
“I’m not sure what you mean. They’re all the same to me.”
The other angel clapped him on the back. “Brother, you’ve always been a horrible liar. So tell me, why this female? Unless you don’t mind me finding out for myself.”
“Don’t you dare touch her,” he snapped. Razziel shoved the other angel away from him so that he stumbled and fell into the water. The fury he felt at the comment enraged him, heating his skin. The emotion was uncomfortable and something he was not used to experiencing. He took a deep breath, trying to cleanse the reaction from his system. And yet, when he thought about Lemiel touching Penelope, it only branded the feelings deeper inside his veins.
Lemiel stood up and chuckled. With a snap of his fingers, he was dry once more. “You have feelings for this woman. I can see it in your eyes.”
“Nonsense. Angels care nothing for humans. We watch them, guide them along their paths, and at times intervene when we’re given the order to. We do not form attachments to them.”
“Ahh...but you’re not thinking about the others. All those we’re not supposed to mention.”
Razziel’s eyes widened. He glanced around to see if they were truly alone. “You speak of the Fallen. How could you even suggest I’m in the same category?”
“I’m not, brother, but you may wish to explore the moniker.”
“Why do you say that?”
The other angel winked and disappeared, leaving Razziel wondering what he meant. Was he considered a Fallen one because he had feelings for a human woman? Did he truly have emotions for Penelope when he had never thought about it before? Was it possible for angels to even have feelings toward humans? He had never heard of such a thing until the subject of the Fallen ones crossed his mind. They were banished because they had done something to disrupt the ways of Heaven. His involvement with mortals had been born from his curiosity of them. The observances of their lives and dreams were not outlawed, but for some reason he found something within Penelope fascinating. Lemiel was correct. He had woven into her dreams on more than one occasion. At first he had stumbled upon her, the way he did with other humans, but over time Razziel meshed with her desires more and more.
It has nothing to do with emotion. Only humans are burdened with those base urges, electrical firings of the brain, and chemicals releasing to cause the feelings they have. Angels are above that. Razziel gazed at the viewing pool one last time before leaving the meadow and vowed he would never use it again. It had only stirred up too many questions without answers. It would only cause more uncertainties if he peered into it again, and he did not need those. His belief in Heaven was absolute, and nothing was going to shake that.
Chapter Two
Penelope pulled her hair up and examined the outcome in the mirror. A lock escaped her makeshift ponytail and curled around her ear. One tendril she could ignore. Turning to the side, she wondered if wearing it in a ponytail would go best with her outfit of black jeans and a purple, off-the-shoulder blouse that showed off her tattoos. Before she could decide another strand escaped, and she lost her grip on her hair. As it fell along her round face, she decided to go with her normal look of fastening it off to the side with a barrette because it was still too short to put it all up. A sigh escaped her lips. Penelope studied her reflection, hating that she could not wear makeup because she was allergic to all the kinds she had tried, expensive to cheap, and the smattering of red bumps along her right cheekbone was another indication of her sensitive skin.
Tiny lines had appeared at the sides of her brown eyes, and under the vanity lights she caught the glint of a gray hair. Just great. Getting older, still have student loans, a day job I hate, and no love life. Unless you count the mysterious man who visits me in my dreams. He might be one hell of a lover, but he isn’t real. “And what would Dr. Phil say about that?” she muttered to her reflection.
Penelope shook her head. “That I seriously need to get laid.”
Her cell phone rang and she raced to get it, knowing it was one of the sales guys from her job calling to ask her a question or bug her about some e-mail they had sent her and she had not gotten to yet.
Penelope loved that she got to work from home and went into the office once a week for the insurance agency that employed her. However, sometimes she wished she was back in the office, surrounded by cubicles and coworkers, because the solitude grated on her nerves. Her only company during the day was her cat, Petey. He was a gray calico that reminded her of a grumpy old man. He hated anyone who invaded her apartment, and that included her sometimes. He only ate canned tuna mixed with his dry food. He was such a curmudgeon, she wondered how she had ended up with such a finicky cat that would not go in his litter box if she did not clean it out completely once a week. If not, her bed became his litter box. After learning the hard way, she made sure to keep up with it. Since she had no one else in her life to keep her company on long nights, they were a perfect pair. Although, when she had dreams of the particular kind she had last night, all sweaty and leaving her gasping for air when she woke up, Petey spent the night sleeping on her hope chest as though he was protecting her from the dream man who visited her.
And, of course, he is only a figment of my imagination, but damn, does he know how to use his hands and that tongue. She shivered thinking about it. Although it would be easy to slip back into the ecstasy of the dream, she had to get to work. Her phone rang again. This time she gave up on her hair and raced to answer the phone. Penelope glanced at the number. It was one of the sales guys.
“What’s up, Mitch?” she asked, anchoring her earpiece to her ear.
“Have you had a chance to look at the file I sent you this morning?”
Penelope gritted her teeth. Mitch was the new guy and still had not learned not to call her before nine in the morning. She would train him soon. “Not yet. I haven’t gotten on the computer. Let me look it over and get back to you. You know I can’t be on the phone and the computer at the same time.”
“Yeah, I still don’t get that.”
“I’ve already told you that my phone’s my hot spot for the Internet. When I’m talking to someone, it kicks me off the ‘net. Gotta love technology.” Penelope rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, I guess so. Okay, call me when you get to it.” He hung up, but not before she heard the frustration in his voice.
She sighed. He didn’t know frustration, real bone-grinding frustration. Now she did. Waking up from an unfulfilled, kinky dream about a man she could never touch always left her on edge for the rest of the day. Penelope never admitted it to anyone because no one would believe her, but she had a handicap. Sometimes it helped her, but most of the time it only caused her grief, especially in relationships. Whenever she touched someone, she could feel what they did: joy, pain, or grief, and if they had an injury or a disease, she would feel that too. In her childhood, Penelope would blurt out and tell people what ailed them or even diagnose them. Her mother always apologized for her, but when they were alone, she was scolded. Of course, her mother told her not to tell peop
le what she picked up on because it was private, but her response had been if it was private, then how come she was feeling it too. Her mother never had an answer for that, just that it was a strange gift she had, but they should not talk about it. Meanwhile, Penelope felt her mother’s aggravation and the desperation she kept bottled up inside over the ability her daughter had. It was easier not to go out and keep her world rather limited to the people she knew and her Petey. At least when she touched him, a calm descended over her that was so great she forgot about everything around her. Sometimes she just wished she had been born a cat. Her life would have been so much easier. Her gift made it nearly impossible to be in a long-term relationship. Well, it made it impossible to be in any relationship because she could feel everything the man felt once she touched him. Penelope shivered and pushed all thoughts about ever finding love from her mind. It was time to get to work, and no matter how good her dreams were, they were only dreams.
* * * *
Razziel stared into the viewing pool’s clear surface and thought about catching one more glimpse of Penelope’s dreams that he visited. It was better not to, although the strong desire burned inside of him and ate away at his thoughts. Such strong impulses troubled Razziel. It was unlike an angel to have these compulsions. Lemiel said that only the Fallen had these urges. Guidance was what he needed, and there was only one place he knew where to find that. He willed himself to the one angel who could assist him. When he reappeared, Razziel stood inside of a large domed garden. The lush surroundings were breathtaking. Thousands of different butterflies fluttered in the air, all diverse shapes and a myriad of colors, creating a winged rainbow. It was breathtaking.
All these flying insects were centered around an angel who sat cross-legged on a rock in the middle of a clear pond. Razziel had only ever met the elder angel a few times, but it was said that if one desired answers, then it was best to acquire the knowledge from him because he had been in Heaven since the beginning.