Page 14 of Payback, Penelope

“There’s nothing to taste yet,” she says with a pout. I’m even more confused, and she sees it. “There won’t be any milk to taste until I get pregnant.”

My brain is too addled, too exhausted, to make sense of anything. Penelope presses a quick kiss to my lips before straightening, bracing her hands on my heaving chest, and fucking me with the kind of vigor that’s going to make me pass out again.

“Daniel went out of town, and Sonya went back to your mother’s house,” she says with a glint in her eye. “Which means you’re mine for the weekend, baby, and I intend to make the most of it. By the time they get back, I’ll for sure be pregnant. And once I give birth…”

My brain finally catches up to what she’s saying. “You’ll have milk. Breastmilk.”

“Yes! And then I’ll give you a taste.”

There I go, my mouth watering once more, imagining her tits growing larger with her life-sustaining breastmilk, ready to feed our baby and me.

Cutting my eyes to the window, dusky light spilling between the open blinds, then to her digital clock, I ask, a little afraid of the answer, “What day is it?”

“It’s Saturday night. You’ve been out for a long time. But your dick still works, so…” At that, she chews the inside of her cheek.

“I’ve been out for a wholeday?”

“Um, off and on.”

“There’s no way…Christ, did I”—I shudder—“wet myself?”

“No, no, I, um, kind of helped you.”

This time, Iamtoo afraid of the answer to askhowshe helped me use the restroom.

“But it’s ok! I like taking care of you, baby.” She nods to the nightstand, an empty plate and a half-full glass of water with a straw in it next to her clock. She must have fed me in myhalf-conscious state, and I have zero recollection of it. It’s so unbelievably sexy, her taking care of me like this, even if I am terrified of the extremes she’s willing to go to in order to get my dick up.

I grind my teeth, jaw clenching so hard that I’m worried I’ll break a molar, my body shaking violently when she’s finally able to force another orgasm out of me after that. A few tears slip from the corners of my eyes as I literally cry out my release, having no idea how I have even one drop of cum left to wring out of my balls.

Penelope moans on and on, working her clit until she cums, too, making me cry harder as her pussy pulses around me. Satisfied with herself, she shakily brings the glass of water to my lips first, then to hers, and lays down on top of me, petting me everywhere she can reach, murmuring about how good I am to her. How good she plans to be to me. And once again, I’m fucking terrified of her. She might just break or skin my dick if this goes on any longer.

She kisses up my neck to my lips. “I saw the Statue of Liberty tattoo on your back when I undressed you. Did you get it because you’re a history buff or…?”

“Because it’s mostly made of copper.” A beat passes. “Like pennies.”

“Sometimes people call me Penny instead of Penelope.”

“I know.”

She hums with the understanding that I got the tattoo for her. Instead of being repulsed by my obsession with her, she gives me a dreamy smile, then kisses me until we’re both breathless again. Maybe she’s becoming just as obsessed with me as I am with her—possibly even more so if she’s willing to tie me to her bed so I can’t push her away.

Penelope’s eyes drift closed, and she lays her head on my shoulder. I watch the clock, waiting for her to fall asleep beforeI work at loosening the knots around my wrists without jostling and waking her. It doesn’t take me too long—I was a Boy Scout, after all, so I know my way around knots. Once my arms are free, I move Penelope inch by inch off of me onto her back, hissing when I pull my dick out of her, and then work on the knots around my ankles.

My feet are numb, my legs unsteady when I try to stand, and I fall to my knees on the carpet with a muted thud. Heart pounding with spiked adrenaline, I grab my clothes, tip-toe out of the bedroom, and dig my keys out of my pants pocket. I don’t bother getting dressed with my dick as raw as it is, knowing I won’t survive the pressure of zipping my pants up over it.

Before walking out, I stop to eye the small key holder hanging by the front door. There are two single keys on rings beside Penelope’s house keys, and I test them to see which one works on her front door. Bingo. The second is a spare, and I thread it onto my key ring so I can lock up behind me.

It’s fully dark outside, giving me the cover I need to race across Penelope’s lawn without being seen in my naked state and jump in my car. I give her small house one last glance before I reverse down her driveway and speed out of her neighborhood.

Penelope knows where I live now, so I’m more than a little worried she’ll show up at my front door after she wakes up to find me gone, demanding answers, but I won’t let her in. I won’t give her the opportunity to seduce me with her curvy, fertile body and wrangle me into being tied up and used again.

Given that I live in a sprawling apartment complex with hundreds of other residents, I reluctantly pull my clothes on since there’s no way I can make it home without someone seeing me and calling the cops. I almost black out attempting to pull my zipper up, so I leave my shirt untucked over my exposed dick that swings pitifully flaccid through the opening of my pants.

I get a few curious looks at my rumpled state, and I tug my cuffs down to hide the red ligature marks on my wrists. Grimacing with each step, I take the stairs to the third floor to avoid anyone in the elevator, sure that I reek of sweat and sex and fear. Once home, I strip and collapse in bed with a bag of ice centered on my lap with no idea what the hell I’m going to do now.

It’s clear that the woman of my dreams is fucking unhinged—something I hadn’t foreseen, though I should have. She gave me no pushback when I exposed my fantasies and didn’t make a peep when I forced myself into her cunt while she was asleep. That should have been my second clue. The first being how open she was to my advances at the bar within hours of seeing each other for the first time in years. I hadn’t seen any of it for what it is: She’s just as crazy as me.

Chapter 9

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