by Lexi Blake
She wanted to see it again, loved looking at him. One last kiss on his lips and she forced herself up.
“Damn it.”
She ignored him and pulled at the sheet, tugging it down. He hissed a little as his cock was exposed, but she couldn’t miss the satisfied smile on his face. He pressed his hips up, squirming a bit, like she had in the bathroom at her cousin’s wedding. Her first real orgasm. He’d given that to her. Didn’t she owe him something?
A gasp came out of her mouth as she really caught sight of his cock for the first time. Never before had she had the time to look at her lover. Peter had wanted the lights off and to get it done fairly quickly, but Damon seemed to want to take his time, to revel in it, to treat it like a leisure activity he never wanted to finish up.
His cock was a thing of beauty. Long and thick. There was a drop of pearly liquid seeping from the tiny slit on the tip of his dick. His hips were lean, with lovely notches that proved just how much he liked to work out.
“Do you like what you see?” His voice was low, a hard groan coming out of his mouth.
“You know how beautiful you are.” He had to. She was sure a thousand women had told him.
His hand came out, touching a place just below his heart. “I know I’m scarred.”
There was a red puckered place right below his heart, to the left of his breast bone. It was a nasty scar, the one that might still cost him his career. That mark was the reason he couldn’t run the way he used to, couldn’t perform in the field. He should have had a few more years, but the injury had aged him.
It hadn’t made him any less desirable. His flaws did nothing but make him more open, easier to get close to. She forced herself to look away from his cock. It was beautiful, but he was more than a hot cock. He was a man who’d been hurt, who had the same strengths and weaknesses as everyone else, who needed more than just sex even if he wouldn’t admit it.
She ran her fingers across his scar. He’d almost died. She couldn’t imagine what he’d gone through. His best mate had walked in and calmly put a bullet in him. He’d been forced to endure months and months of trying to get back to normal. Everything that made up Damon Knight had been put in jeopardy. She couldn’t help but think about the picture in his office. That smiling boy and parents who loved him. He’d lost them so young. He’d been alone in the world. Only a child, but orphaned.
When her mother had died, she’d felt her aloneness and she’d been an adult. Her entire body had ached with the loss, but he’d been truly alone, a child with no one to care for him.
Then he’d opened up and his best mate had betrayed him brutally, the evidence right beneath her fingers.
Damon needed to be healed. Not from his physical ailments, but from the wounds that came from the ones he loved always leaving him.
She leaned over and pressed her lips to his scar. There was a line that moved in and out of the circle. His surgery. Someone had saved his life. Someone had pulled the bullet out of him so he could be with her right now, in this moment.
Her tongue came out to trace the scar. That scar was important. It meant he was alive. It meant he was here.
His hand sank into her hair. He held her hard against his skin. “God, keep your mouth on me. Penelope, I need it. I know you don’t believe me, but I want you. I want everything you have to give me.”
Though it was so dumb, she licked the scar, trailing over to his nipple and then giving him a baby bite.
Damon hissed and the hand in her hair tightened. “Yes, that’s what I want. I want Penelope Cash’s bad girl. I want her to fuck my cock. I want her to crave me.”
She already craved him. Bad girl. Good girl. Everything Penelope Cash was wanted Damon Knight.
He was laid out for her, his big body a feast for her senses. He released his hold on her hair, giving her some freedom to explore. She let her palms roam across his chest as she kissed her way down. He’d given her something the day before. He’d taught her that she wasn’t cold or frigid, that sex could be good with the right partner. She wanted to return the favor.
There were a million reasons why it was a bad idea and only one reason to keep going—because she wanted to. In the moment, that was all that mattered.
“I’m trying to be very good,” Damon said, his hands clutching the sheets. “It’s difficult for me not to take over. So give me something. Take off that ridiculous shirt and let me see your breasts. I won’t let you hide from me.”
He’d touched her and played with her, but he hadn’t seen her yet.
“Don’t,” he growled. “Don’t tense up on me. I want to see you.”
“I don’t look like you, Damon.” She was overweight, a bit saggy. He was masculine perfection, and she wasn’t anywhere close to him.
“Thank god for that. I don’t want you to look like me. I’m not into men.”
So frustrating. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
His eyes narrowed. “Then perhaps you should tell me what you meant.”
She had the sudden fear that he wouldn’t like her explaining all the ways she didn’t measure up. He hadn’t liked other people talking bad about her. He wouldn’t like her talking about herself in a derogatory fashion either. And he seemed to be looking for a reason to punish her. There was only one clear way out of the situation.
She sat up, making her decision. Before she could really think about it, she pulled the shirt over her head and let it fall to the bed beside her. She wasn’t wearing underwear since he hadn’t seen fit to provide her with any. Penny sat, kneeling over him, waiting for him to say something.
A slow smile curled his lips up, making him look like a lazy pasha whose meal had been brought to him on a silver platter. “What made you change your mind?”
She bit her bottom lip and decided to tell him the truth. This relationship they were pretending to have was all about trust and honesty. “Well, I decided that if I told you what was going through my head, you would very likely get angry with me. You would have spanked me and then still ordered me to undress, so the argument wouldn’t have gotten me anything but a sore bum. I decided to skip it and do as you asked.”
Pure pleasure was in his grin. “Such a smart girl. We’ll get along well, you and I. And, god, your tits are gorgeous. Look at that. Spread your legs. Let me see your pussy.”
She could see he wasn’t going to be easy to please. He would demand everything from her, but he’d done nothing to make her think he would hurt her. He’d only given her pleasure in moments like these, only praised her. She shifted, moving her knees apart so he could see her.
“Do you always shave?” His voice had gotten deeper, darker.
She shook her head. “No. It’s my first time. I did it on Saturday night.”
“After you said yes to me.” He turned on his side, obviously comfortable with his nudity. “Did you think about me when you were shaving?”
More honesty. “Yes.”
“Did you want to please me? Did you shave your pussy thinking it would please your Master?”
She’d done it for several reasons. “I read that many submissives keep to a grooming routine. And yes, I did think about you while I was doing it. I wanted to know what it felt like. I don’t pay much attention to that part of my body.”
She’d stood in the shower, hot water running over her as she carefully shaved herself and wondered, hoped and prayed even, that she could figure out why a pussy seemed to be the center of so many women’s lives.
Then Damon had touched her there and she’d understood.
His hand found his cock, lazily rubbing up and down. “Don’t pay much attention to it?”
She couldn’t help but watch the way his hand worked over his erection. She might not have spent a lot of time thinking about her sex, but Damon was deeply, comfortably acquainted with his. “I didn’t think much about sex. Even when I was engaged, I didn’t really enjoy it.”
“I thought about you on Saturday, too. Do you know what I did after we spo
ke?”
“Apparently you researched all of my relatives and decided on a plan to relocate me.” He’d worked quickly, too.
He chuckled a little. “Besides that. And I’d already researched all your relatives. And friends. And anyone you talk to on a regular basis. No. I got in bed that night and I did this.”
His fist tightened around his cock, pulling back the foreskin, allowing the purple head to emerge. His balls were tight against his body, beautifully large and round. And it was apparent he spent time on grooming as well.
“You touched yourself while you were thinking of me?” She tried to really imagine him lying there, gripping his own cock and thinking about making love to her.
It wasn’t love. It was sex. She had to remember that.
“I did more than touch myself.” He groaned and his eyes closed briefly. “I had a nice long session. I lay in this bed and thought about all the nasty things I was going to do to you, and I wanked my own cock until I came everywhere. I told you I hadn’t had sex in a long time. It felt damn good.”
“Why, Damon?” She asked the question on a sigh because she truly didn’t understand him. “Why me? I’m not trying to get into trouble. I want to understand.”
“Why I want you?”
“Yes. You never paid me much attention before. I don’t understand what’s changed.”
He stopped his slow stroking and turned to her. “I did think about you. Come here. Lie beside me. It’s not fun to touch myself when you’re right here. I’ll talk but I want you to touch me.”
She shifted, lying back on the bed, and soon found herself in his arms again. Somehow she’d thought sex with Damon would be wild and crazy. She hadn’t expected him to be so sweet, hadn’t counted on the real intimacy she was beginning to find with him. She’d envisioned him fucking her and then walking away, not this long, slow seduction.
“Give me your hand.” When she placed her hand in his, he pulled it to his cock. “Stroke me.”
Though his cock was hard as a rock, the skin covering it was silky smooth. She let her fingers close around the stalk, her middle finger just barely meeting the tip of her thumb.
A long shuddering sigh went through him. “Yes. That’s what I want. Keep it up and I’ll keep talking. But slowly. I don’t want to come yet.”
She stroked him, awkwardly at first and then finding a rhythm.
“I always liked you, Penelope. I wasn’t good for anyone back then. I’m probably still not, but things have changed. I always found you attractive.”
She rubbed her cheek against his chest. “I find that hard to imagine. You didn’t date anyone who looked like me.”
He chuckled, his chest moving with the laugh. “I took a few women out to lunch at the office. It wasn’t anything serious. I didn’t really date at all. Not the way you would think of it. I played with subs, but I never was exclusive. I took out a couple of women when I was younger, but I have to lie about so much, it didn’t seem to be possible. I was in the Army for the longest time and then I was SIS. I can’t have a normal relationship. I have to be able to work, and most women aren’t going to understand why I need to leave to go undercover for months or even years at a time.”
She understood all that, but it didn’t answer the basic question. “Why me?”
“You don’t think you’re pretty, but you’re wrong. And it’s more than that. I want what you can offer me. I want all that kindness. I want that innocence. I want to be the one who teaches you how to stroke a cock. You’re quite good at it, by the way.” His free hand came up, sliding across her belly and up to cup her breast.
Her nipple peaked as his hand ran across it.
She lost her rhythm, her whole body on alert as he touched her.
“But you need to learn to focus, love.” His fingertips found her nipple and squeezed tight, a short, sharp shock.
She gasped as the pain flared and then sank into her. “Damon.”
He tweaked her again. “Master. We’re playing. I’m in charge now, and I want you to stroke my cock. I think that you like this. I think the idea of pleasing me does something for you. And I definitely think you respond to a bite of pain.”
Her pussy certainly had. It was as though the pain from his fingers had gone directly to her core, morphing in to pleasure along the way. She gripped his cock again, with more confidence this time, and stroked him.
“That’s my girl.” Damon whispered the words, almost breathing them into her skin. “That’s exactly what I want. I didn’t have anything to offer you then, but I do now. I can show you the world. All those things you read about in books, I can make them real for you. I can protect you while you explore. I can take care of you, Penelope. All you have to do is submit to me. I’ll treat you like the gift you are.”
His words drugged her, made her feel drowsy with wanting. There was absolutely nothing to keep her from rolling onto her back and letting him take her. Then she would be his. For how long didn’t matter. She would be his, and she could hold the memory forever.
“Kiss me now.” He shifted so their lips could meet and Penny never had to stop stroking him. His free hand moved over hers, covering her as he took over. His tongue traced along her bottom lip, making her shiver.
She turned into him, letting her breasts rest against his chest. He made her feel delicate and feminine against his masculinity.
“Say you’ll stay with me.”
There was only one answer to that. “Yes.”
* * * *
The minute Damon heard the word “yes” leave her lips, he was all over her. She’d said it. Penelope had given him permission, and now it was his turn. His cock was raging hard, ready to go off any second. He tore her hand away because he wasn’t going to come in her palm. He wanted to mark her, to make her remember exactly who she belonged to so she wouldn’t flirt with Lord Weston again.
He rolled her on her back, making a place for himself between her legs. So fucking soft. She was the damn softest thing he’d ever held. He looked down into those sky-blue eyes and nearly lost it.
He hadn’t lied to her. He’d always watched her, but she was the type of woman who should have a husband and children, who went to church on Sundays and always had supper ready. He had nothing to offer her. He couldn’t be that man, but she’d walked away from that kind of life the minute she’d told him yes.
He was a greedy bastard and she was a good thing.
One good thing. Sometimes that was all a man needed. She was smart, and after he’d trained her, she would be good in the field. A team. They would be a team and then he never had to leave his job, never had to go back to his pitiful existence.
He kissed her, letting his tongue plunge inside. He would make it good for her, take care of her, make her need him like she needed her next breath.
So she wouldn’t leave, wouldn’t betray him. So all that sweetness and light would be for him and him alone.
Sex would bind her to him. Sex would bring them closer together.
Sex would feel so bloody good.
Her arms wound around him, her legs spread wide. She was a feast and he was suddenly damn near starving.
He kissed his way down her neck, giving her little bites along the way. Every time he nipped her, she jumped a little, but he could see the way her eyes widened, first in shock and then a sultry acceptance dropped over her. She was relaxing, taking what he gave her and allowing it to grow in to hot desire.
He cupped her breasts. Soft, sweet breasts. The women he’d been around tended to be in the business, and they were either surgically enhanced or so physically fit there wasn’t an ounce of cushion on them. Not Penelope. Penelope was all woman, with curves and hips he could hold on to when he fucked her hard and long. He didn’t have to worry about breaking her.
That idiot fiancé of hers had been right. Penelope was strong. She gripped him and he felt it. Her nails sank into his skin. He doubted she even realized she was doing it. Little scratches against his skin. They would b
e there for hours, reminding him how hot he’d gotten her, how far gone she’d been. The way she clawed at him got him even hotter.
He tongued her nipples, moving from one to the other, softening her up. First something sweet, a suck and lick, and then he’d nip her, dragging that bud between his teeth and biting down, glorying in the way she gasped and moaned. She wriggled underneath him, and he could smell her.
God, he loved that smell. He couldn’t get it out of his head since the day before. Delicate but strong, like the woman herself.
He had to taste her. The bit he’d dragged off his own hands hadn’t been enough. He needed to get his tongue inside her, needed to spear her on it.
“Has anyone ever eaten your pussy before?” He growled the question against her tits, rubbing himself over the satin of her skin.
“What?”
He loved how out of breath she was, out of herself. When she let go, she was a sensual thing. So buttoned up and proper during the day, she turned into a sexy sub when he stripped her down. He dragged himself up so he was on his knees between her thighs, staring down at her. No one who looked at her in her shapeless cardies and bland skirts would ever imagine that she could look so fucking wanton. “Your pussy. You know that thing you never really thought about before? Has any man ever put his mouth on your cunt? Ever made a meal out of you? Ever fucked you long and hard with his tongue? For that matter, has any woman ever done it? I would love to hear that story, pet.”
He expected her to flush and she did, a pretty pink. Her ass would be lovely pink, too, but instead of turning away, she met him, amusement in her eyes. “No, Master. No lesbian loves in my past. And I believe you already know the answer to the other. Peter was fastidious. He wouldn’t try ethnic food, much less put his mouth on me there. On my pussy.”
Prat. Dumbass, as his American friends would call him. “I’m not fastidious.”
Her eyes went dreamy and one hand came up to cup his cheek. “No, you’re not. You’re dirty, Master. You’re a dirty, nasty man. You’re going to eat my pussy, aren’t you? You’ll do all those things you said.”