Penelope returned home at ten thirty, bringing his sanity back with her. Bishop’s shoulders sagged in relief as just her presence in the house made everything better again. He set his highball glass down, his third whiskey of the night nearly sloshing over the rim, and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants.
He hadn’t sat down since Pen had left, even when Ann had brought a sandwich up to him in the library when she’d noticed he hadn’t eaten his dinner. He’d been pacing the room, stopping only to check his phone for any message from his ward.
He’d nearly lost his mind when she’d sent him that picture of her shapely ass. After that, all he could think about was how short her skirt had been, and how that gorgeous, bare bottom was just one small hand-slide up the back of her thigh.
All evening his thoughts had been fixated in an ugly muck of jealously and torment. Pen had warned him about how sexually frustrated she’d been lately, but when he’d gone into her room the other night, had he taken care of her needs? Hell no. He’d shoved her to her knees and practically raped her young mouth. Then he’d left her there with only a kiss on the forehead.
Bryce would have none of the hang-ups that Bishop had. Like any single college guy, Bryce would be eager to fool around with Bishop’s ward. And Bishop had practically made Pen promise to let Bryce have his way.
But had she? Had Pen let Bryce put his hand up her skirt like she’d taunted in her message? Had the boy had his mouth on her plump, sweet tits? Had she let him push his clumsy fingers into the undiscovered treasure between her legs?
Bishop was wild-eyed as he’d considered these detestable ideas.
His eager little Pen…had she taken her date into her mouth in the dark of the car? Marveling at how easily he climaxed, with only a few licks and some gentle sucking on her part?
He could imagine how pleasing it would be for her to find a normal man who didn’t ask for her to gag on his cock. Didn’t need to feel the squeeze of her throat and see the watering of her beautiful chestnut eyes in order to be satisfied.
And then the worst thought of all…had Pen given Bryce her virginity?
Bishop had shaken his head, squeezing his eyes shut, hoping to block out the train of thought, to no avail. The girl was so eager to experience sex. Had she jumped at this chance to get what she wanted? To feel a man move inside her?
To feel Bryce inside her?
At that point, Bishop had nearly sunk to his knees. He’d shoved a hand through his hair, practically pulling out clumps in his agitation. Thank god that’s the moment he’d finally heard Penelope return.
His back was to the library door, and he braced himself when he heard it open and close. Bishop turned to her slowly, somehow afraid of what he might see. Irrationally, he feared he’d take one look at her and just inexplicably know he’d lost her forever.
Like maybe she’d glide across the room, as if on a cloud, giddy with love for the boy. Or she’d squeal that Bishop had been right, a nice college guy was exactly what she needed, and she’d hold up her hand to reveal a sparkling engagement ring. Or maybe Bryce would be with her, both of them beaming with young love, and they’d announce they were running away together because Pen was pregnant.
Absolutely senseless, illogical fears, made worse by alcohol.
Nonetheless, the steel bands encasing his chest finally loosened enough to breathe when he saw it was just Pen. Looking a bit more tired than the last time he’d seen her, but still, his little Pen.
As heart-stopping as ever.
He cleared his throat. “How was your date?”
She come toward him, dropping her purse on the couch as she passed it. “Fine.” Her tone was breezy. “You were right. Bryce is a great guy.”
His stomach dropped. She’d enjoyed herself. But wasn’t that what he’d wanted?
Pen didn’t stop her forward momentum until she was directly in front of him. He stared down at her. In a mirror of what she’d done to him before she’d left, Pen wrapped him in a slow hug and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.
Automatically, he folded his arms around her. She laid her head on his chest and stayed pressed to him as he relished every moment she was in his embrace.
After a long and lovely silence, she pulled her head back and stared into his eyes. “I’m glad to be home,” she whispered.
“I’m glad you’re home, too.”
“I did what you asked,” she said. “Are you pleased with me?”
He stared at her mouth, his lips parted. He bent forward but didn’t kiss her. Instead, he put his nose in her hair and inhaled. His shoulders stiffened. He flicked her hair off her shoulder and smelled her neck too, cursing.
She laughed. “What are you doing?”
“Did he kiss you good night?” Bishop’s voice was hoarse.
She nodded. “In fact, we made out a little in his car. Do I smell like him?”
Bishop ground his teeth together. “You smell like you’ve been with another man.” His words sounded like a growl.
She tilted her head, considering him. “You don’t like that?” She reached up and cupped a hand on his cheek.
“No. You have to move onto a healthy relationship, but I hate the scent of another man on your…body.” He had to choke out the last word, his arm tightening around her waist, pulling her in against him.
“So, make me yours again,” she whispered, her eyes searching his. “Make me smell like you so everyone knows who I belong to.”
That’s what he wanted—to mark her as his. He kissed her hungrily.
“God, you taste like whiskey,” she gasped. “Just like that first night.”
Bishop moved his lips downward, licking her neck. “Did Bryce kiss you here?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Fuck,” Bishop snarled angrily against her skin, sucking and nipping at every inch of her exposed flesh, making her pant for air.
He reached down and hitched her leg up around his side. Gripping her thigh, he began to slide his hand up the back of her leg. “Did he touch you here?” he asked, his tone sharp. “Did he put his hand up your skirt, Penelope?”
“No.”
He pulled back, his eyes boring into hers.
“He didn’t,” she insisted.
Bishop exhaled a sigh of relief so strong, it seemed to have been what was holding him together. Knowing it was only him—that Bryce hadn’t crossed that line—Bishop trailed his now-trembling fingers up Pen’s leg until he palmed her butt cheek.
He squeezed, and she let her head drop back, a noise of pleasure escaping her lips. Drawing his hand up, he deftly unbuttoned her top and slid her bra strap off her shoulder until one breast was revealed. He cupped his palm to it. “Did he touch you here?” His voice was rough. He was so afraid to hear her answer.
She shook her head, her lips swollen and wet. He closed his eyes in blissful relief, as if she’d given him the best news he’d heard in years. He caressed her, taking her hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger, teasing it, pinching. She panted, moaning sounds of pleasure as he touched her.
He slid his hand back to her ass, and she tightened her leg around him. He cupped his palm across one of the perfect globes of her bottom until his fingers found the crotch of her panties. Tucking three fingers underneath the lace, he asked with an unsteady voice, “Did he touch you here?”
“God, no,” she breathed, and shifted her hips, wantonly moving her slick wetness against his fingers. “No one’s ever touched me there, except you.”
His lips were on hers again. “That’s right.” His voice was gruff against her mouth. “Because you’re mine. That precious pussy is mine.”
She pulled away, giving him a disconcerted look.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I-I didn’t mean to say that.”
Her eyes, swirling with heat like melted chocolate, narrowed. “Didn’t you?”
She backed away from him, her tiny body radiating with the power of a Titan. She retreated until the backs of her legs hit the cushion of the overstuffed chair in front of the room’s fireplace. He followed her, powerless against the young siren who’d disrupted his life so completely.
Without taking her eyes from his, she shimmied out of the goddammed skimpy panties she’d teased him with all evening. She held them up on one finger, just some scarlet strings of fabric, and he was suddenly seized with rage that his little Pen had worn that tiny, lace strip of nothing while out with another man.
She dropped the panties onto the floor and then took off the shirt and bra Bishop had already half-removed. He could hardly breathe as, finally, she reached behind and unzipped her skirt, pulling it off to reveal her neatly shaved mound.
Seductively, she lowered herself into the chair and placed her hands on her knees, slowly spreading her legs. She was still wearing the knee-high, heeled boots she’d gone out in, and the visual was fucking sexy as hell.
“I’m not sure if you can see the details at this distance,” her voice was the most provocative of purrs, “but I’m so turned on that my thighs are wet.”
With the confidence of a seductress twice her age, Penelope slid one hand up her thigh and dipped a finger into bared folds. Bishop’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when she brought that finger to her mouth and licked it. “If you don’t believe how wet I am, come see for yourself.”
Without even a conscious thought of doing it, Bishop was in front of Pen and sinking to his knees, a worshipper overcome at the foot of a goddess. He placed his hands on her inner thighs and pushed her legs further apart. Her sex glistened, and just as she’d promised, her creamy thighs were coated in her juices.
He knelt up straighter, his eyes level with hers. Though he didn’t want to ask the question, he had to know. “This excitement,” he croaked, “was any of this from making out with him?”
Her eyes, showing nothing but fierce devotion, bored into his. “Bishop, this is all for you. Only for you.”
His whole body seemed to go limp with relief, except for his cock, which still throbbed, aching for release, as it seemed to do whenever he was around Penelope.
He was drawn back down like a magnet to her pretty little pussy. Wet for him. Only for him, she’d said. God, that’s what he wanted. The alpha in him roared like it always did when she was around, mine. Mine! It was a futile cry. He’d sworn to think of what was best for his ward’s future first, and put his own selfish desires aside, even if it killed him.
But right now, his ward was in need of something he could provide for her, even if it was so very wrong. He brought his face to the fragrant, hot treasure at the apex of her thighs. How could he offer this to another man? How was this not his for the taking?
Anger coursed through him as strong as his lust. The best he could do was provide for her in this way better than any man ever could. At least in this way, he could leave his mark on her. Seizing the backs of her legs, he pulled them upwards, hooking them over the arms of the chair and causing her to tip back into the cushions.
Bishop buried his face and pleasured her with his mouth until Pen had come twice on his tongue as she gasped his name in carnal praise. She’d had her hands knotted in his tousled hair, and after her first orgasm, she’d tightened her grip and held his wet face in her lap, begging, “Once more, once more.”
Of course he’d obliged. He lived to please his little one.
When he was finished, and satisfied that he’d claimed her as thoroughly as if she was actually his, he stood, looking down at her.
He drank her in, splayed out and panting, her hair everywhere. He’d screwed up again—let his baser side conquer his better judgment—but this time, he felt justified. She’d made out with that boy. Bryce had his tongue in her mouth earlier that night, his lips on hers. Bishop couldn’t let that stand. He’d had to remind her whose tongue commanded her, brought her to climax again and again. It was selfish, but at least he’d sleep tonight knowing he’d made his point.
Of course, he knew he wasn’t justified. As her guardian, he should never be licking his young ward’s naked cunt, further mixing the signals and possibly undoing all the progress she’d made tonight by going out on an actual date with a proper boy her age. A guy who didn’t come with the impossible baggage Bishop came with, but that alpha in Bishop couldn’t help the pride he felt in knowing he was the only man who knew exactly how to touch his little Penelope so that she became boneless in satisfaction each and every time.
She looked up at him through half-lidded, sleepy eyes, her sprawled body wanton in its naked, flushed womanhood. “Let me suck you,” she whispered, nearly breaking him.
Those words, spoken by his Pen when she looked more than ever like the formidable seductress she was, nearly brought him to his knees again, but with all the strength he could muster, he raised a shaking hand to wipe her juices from his mouth. God, he loved the taste of her.
“I’m glad to hear you had a good time on your date tonight,” he said, his voice far more even than he actually felt.
She instantly sat up, alarm erasing the bliss from her face. “Don’t even think about it,” she warned.
“I’m sorry, Pen. I have to.” He backed away, grabbing his nearly empty glass of whiskey, the only hope he had to calm his nerves. His eyes landed on the door. “Goodnight, Penelope.”
She braced herself back on her hands, her naked breasts heaving in her anger. “Stop fucking apologizing for making me feel good. You might not think it’s right, but it’s exactly what I want.”
Bishop strode toward the door, his escape from her temptation.
But she wasn’t done. She called after him again. “Stop fucking making what I want sound so goddamn traumatizing to you!”
He halted, his shoulders stiff, fury nearly blinding him. Did she think this was easy for him? This sacrifice he was making for her?
He didn’t turn around. “Then stop fucking wanting it,” he nearly roared.
She made a sound like a sob behind him, and his heart felt like it might shatter.
“I’m so tired of this hot and cold with you, Bishop. You’re always high and mighty about ‘not taking advantage of your young ward.’” Her words dripped heavily with sarcasm. “And then all you do is string me along. You’re all ‘yes’ then ‘go away’ then ‘yes’ then ‘Oh god I’m so sorry.’”
Bishop turned to her slowly, his voice deadly serious. “Stop raising your voice, Penelope. I’d rather Ann not hear this conversation.”
Pen was on her feet, yanking her clothes back into place. “Oh, of course not.” Her voice shook. “God forbid anyone discover your dirty little secret. You’ll fuck around with your ‘innocent ward’ every time you get horny, but then you deny me like I’m your shameful addiction you’re trying to hide from the world.” She gave up on hooking her bra and held her shirt to her chest as she stomped over to him.
He looked beaten. “You’re completely right,” he said, his tone flat and defeated.
*****