Page 5 of Payback, Penelope

When I catch Sandra’s sea blue eyes, deeply creased with laughter, she grins like she’s in on some kind of secret as she flicks her gaze between Jacob and me. I give her a grimace. She winks—why is everyone winking all of a sudden?—and turns to pull Mr. Andrews into a conversation about retirement homes and his plans for his seventieth birthday.

Deeply offended, Mr. Andrews barks out, “I’m only fifty-nine. Still a young buck.” Oof. It’s a hard fifty-nine, seeing as he’s actually eight years younger than my dad.

Jacob’s body shakes with laughter against mine, and under the table, I lightly slap his thigh. “Don’t be mean,” I say out of the corner of my mouth.

He sets his drink down and slips his hand under the table, laying it flat over my hand to keep it pressed to his thigh. He readjusts in his seat, sliding lower so my hand is resting higher up his leg. He says equally as low, “Oh, I can be real nice, too, Mama.”

I drain the rest of my tea and press a hand to my cheek, then to my forehead, certain I have a fever. My cheeks are warm to the touch, but my forehead is fine. What’s heating me up from the inside out is Jacob’s presence at my side, the proximity of my hand to what I’m sure is a huge dick, and his husky voice in my ear. Oh yes, I’m sure he can bereal nice.

Chapter 3

Jacob

My dick is a rock-solid baseball bat in my pants sitting next to Penelope—the woman I’ve had a crush on since she moved into my old neighborhood when I was just a kid. It was a knife through the heart when I came home for fall break my freshman year of college to find she’d moved away. By then, my crush had turned into all-consuming love, and I thought my life was over without her in it.

My grades tanked when I went back to school, unable to drag myself out of bed for months after searching for her through social media and coming up empty. Now I know why. If she does have an online presence, she’s probably using her maiden name, which I hadn’t thought to check since I didn’t know she’d gotten a divorce.

I’d forced myself to try to move on, and I thought I had done a good job, just getting by. But when I saw Penelope and her breathtaking hazel eyes in my classroom, every ounce of love for her that I had been pushing down came roaring back to the surface, literally making me choke.

And now here we are, her delicate hand dangerously close to brushing against my wood. When I tell her, “Oh, I can be real nice, too, Mama,” she makes a breathy sound that goes straightto my dick, and her drink sloshes in the glass, her hand shaking as she brings it to her glossy lips.

Emboldened by the fact that she hasn’t tried to fend off any of the liberties I’ve taken with her already, I slip my hand up her calf and behind her knee when she crosses her legs. I drag her top leg further across and drape it over my thigh. And still, she doesn’t stop me. Doesn’t pull her leg back as she did when I massaged her feet in the school’s parking lot. I wanted to nut right then and there, holding her small, bare feet in my hands. To yank them until she was flat on her back in the seat and spread her legs.

Fuck, I’m so hard and wish she would move her hand up and press it to the front of my lap.

High on her sugary scent that had filled my car on the way here and the feel of her silky bare skin, I leave my hand where it is, abandoning my drink as my dick wets my boxer briefs with pre-cum. My cock silently begs me to unzip my pants, pull her ass on top of my lap instead of just her leg, work her skirt up and panties down, and have her sit on it. She wouldn’t even have to bounce on my lap or let me fuck up into her like I would love to do. Just nestle her pussy around my cock, and I’d fire off inside her within seconds. Fill her to the brim with my cum and plug her for the rest of the evening.

I rub my thumb in circles over Penelope’s knee as I’d like to do to her nipples. She calls for another round when a male server in a tiny white tank top and an even tinier pair of black shorts approaches the table. Mr. Andrews looks at me like he’s plotting my death while Mrs. Barry goes on and on about how she thought he was just refusing to retire because of how much he loves teaching. It’s fucking hilarious.

Penelope squirms an hour and two drinks later. Knowing I’d get thrown out if I tried to go into the restroom with her so I canstick by her side, I allow her out of the booth after subtlyreadjusting my dick in my pants. Then, I stand at Mr. Andrews’s side when he slaps the table like he’s going to get up and follow her down the dark hallway to get her alone.

Penelope hovers at my side when she returns instead of retaking her seat at the booth and announces to Mrs. Barry, “Sorry to cut this short, but I need to get home to feed my cat.”

Mrs. Barry waves her off. “Go on, girly. I’m sure your pussy…cat is hungry.”

I cough to hide my laugh at Mrs. Barry’s bawdiness, and she winks at me, then smirks at Mr. Andrews, who once again tries to stand. I block his exit and loudly tell the group, “I’m headed out to take her home. Thanks for the warm welcome, Mrs. Barry.”

Mr. Andrews’s cheeks turn ruddy. “You’re taking Ms. Barlow home?”

I clap my hand hard on his shoulder. “Sure am. Gotta make sure her pussycat doesn’t go hungry.”

Ms. Barry slaps the tabletop and throws her head back with a laugh as loud and fiery as her hair. Penelope pinches the back of my shirt to pull me away from the table, and I happily follow behind her with a cocky grin, blocking Mr. Andrews’s view of her bouncy ass as she walks out of the bar and across the parking lot. Those cheeks are only for my viewing pleasure.

Pulling out of the lot after plugging Penelope’s address into my phone—and discreetly saving it for later—she drops her head back against her seat. She’s three drinks deep, though she doesn’t slur her words when she confesses with a smile, “I don’t have a cat. I just couldn’t take looking at Mr. Andrews and his creepy blood-shot eyes on me any longer. I swear his blood vessels were about to pop with the glare he was giving you.”

My grip on the steering wheel tightens. “Yeah, I gotta say, I don’t much like the way he was looking at you, either.” Or that hehad two drinks for every one of hers, while I only had half of my Old Fashioned since I knew I’d be driving her home.

“You know it’s the way you stare at me, too, right?” She giggles. “‘Cept it’s not creepy when you do it.”

“Is that right?” My heart and dick thump.

“Mmhmm.” She sighs and drags her hand down her leather seat. “This is a really nice car. I wish Daniel hadn’t gotten the cars in the divorce. The least he could have done is let me keep my Wrangler. Now, she was one sexy beast. Not like my poor Betsy.” She wags her finger at me. “Lesson learned. Always get your name on everything, or you’ll end up like me after a divorce: old and broke. Not a good look.”

As thrilled as I am that she’s single now, that shit doesn’t sit well with me. “He got everything?”

“Just about. Thirteen years together, and all I got was a fraction of the sale of our house—enough to put a small down payment on mine here and buy Betsy. His brother’s a lawyer. A real shark. Bastards, the both of them.”

“If you don’t mind me asking…what happened?”

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