Page 9 of Punishing Penelope

She sighs, a sigh that is also a throaty moan, so sexy, I almost come on the spot.

“That’s what I’m talking about.”

Penelope

The bench is too public for the heat that builds between us. His hands aren’t in any obviously inappropriate places, but their mere existence on my body is insanely indecent. I stroke his chest, my palms brush his pecs, his shoulders, then I climb on him and wrap my arms around his neck, never breaking lip contact because, my God, he tastes good. My tiny jeans shorts provide a barely-there barrier between my aching pussy and the rock-hard bulge I grind against like a bitch in heat. A guy in a cab, with Lady Gaga blaring from its loudspeakers, honks at us and pulls us from our bubble.

“Dick!” I shout after him, darting up as I flip him off. I stumble, and in the next moment, I’m saved by Peter’s strong arms around me.

Laughter bursts through my chest. I’m giddy. Everything is perfect. The warm winds, the smell of exhaust, flowers, and food, the warm concrete, people gawking, Peter, the sense of belonging, this pull between us, and… Peter. Life at this moment is perfect.

“Want something to drink?” he asks.

“No.”

“Eat?”

Well, I’m famished, but…not for food.

“No.”

“Wanna go somewhere?”

I nod, apprehension, tension, and excitement fighting for a spot at the front of my mind.

“Got my car…well, Dad’s.”

I nod again.

We make it to the pale blue Volvo, parked in a back alley a few blocks away, hand in hand. His fingers play with mine, our palms are slick with sweat, and my heart tap dances in my chest. I’ve sat in the sun the whole day, and I’m dizzy, but I don’t believe it’s a heat stroke. It’s a Pete stroke. I laugh again at my silly wordplay.

“What’s so funny?” he asks as he unlocks and opens the passenger door for me.

“Nothing. Everything. I can’t believe I kissed you.”

“Was it bleh, I can’t believe it, or… I can’t believe how good it was, and you wanna do it again?”

My heart skips a beat, then there are tingles. Lots and lots of tiny flames that need to be stoked and can only be put out by more of his touch.

“Mm-hmm.” I clear my throat. “The good. Again please, sir.”

“Here?”

He strokes his hand up my arm to my neck and plays with the fine hairs on my nape. Goosebumps erupt wherever his skin comes in contact with mine, and a whimper escapes me.

“Let’s take a ride.” I whisper the words, almost unable to breathe. I know what I’m not saying. He knows what I’m not saying. The thing between us just took a wild turn I hadn’t anticipated when, on a whim, I decided to wait for him to finish work. I just knew I had to. He’s been at the forefront of my mind since that day in the water when he held me—like he owned me. I liked that more than what’s reasonable, and I want more.

I slide in and put my feet up on the dashboard. Peter hops in on the driver’s side, turns on the engine, and we’re off. We don’t need to discuss where we’re going—our gang’s favorite spot by the ocean. The trek goes through thorny bushes, and you need to know your way. Nearby, there’s a place to park that fits one car.

That’s where we’re going.

I’m suddenly shy to touch him. His hand lingers on the mid-console, well within reach, but the feel of his skin scares me as much as it thrills me.

We don’t speak, and the air is so thick, it could be cut with a knife.

Finally, we’re there. In front of us, the ocean, behind us, no one watching, no one bothering us. The wind rocks the car slightly as if we’re wrapped in magic. Peter turns off the engine and puts the gear in park, then turns to me, about to say something, but my whole body screams for more of his touch, and I don’t want the words.

I climb over the console and straddle him, wrap my arms around his neck, and put my lips on his. The sparks are still there, wilder than ever, tearing at my insides, pooling between my legs. I grind my pussy against his rock-hard cock through too many layers, and the feel of him there makes me breathless.

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