Crown of Lies
Keeping eye contact with him, I obeyed, ensuring I gathered up the dress and climbed in demurely. However, some inner minx decided to rise to his challenge and fight fire with fire.
I opened my legs a little, flashing him a quick glance of the white garter belt holding up sheer pantyhose and the silver lace hiding the place only he’d touched.
He slammed the door so hard the limousine rattled.
Nervousness climbed up my spine, waiting for him to walk to the other side and climb in. I jumped as he wrenched it open, claimed the seat beside me, then punched the intercom to the driver hidden behind a black wall. “To the Pemberly.”
“Yes, sir,” the driver said as the car moved into motion with a swan-like glide. Downtown moved past tinted windows while traffic noise and city smells invaded the interior through the open sky roof.
Still, Penn didn’t look at me.
His hands fisted. His jaw clenched so tight, the muscles in his throat looked as if they’d shatter.
I didn’t know what to do. Had he had a bad day? Was he that pissed at me for being late?
Not that I was late. He was early.
If he wanted to stew and not talk to me, then fine. I could do the same. Placing my handbag on the seat between us, I settled into the leather and glared out the window.
A second went past.
Barely a second.
Before my handbag went slamming to the floor as Penn swiped it away.
“What on earth—”
His lips bruised mine, his hands grabbing my waist, dragging me unceremoniously across the backseat and into his lap.
He attacked me in every sense of the word.
We were so close.
But it wasn’t enough.
Pushing off his chest, I swiveled from damsel in distress in his arms to opening my legs, pushing my dress up my thighs, and straddling him.
His growl echoed so long and deep, I became instantly wet.
“Christ, Elle.” He stole my mouth again, his hands coming up to capture my face, his fingers tight against my nape, not giving me any room to run. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
I let go and did what I’d wanted to do but pretended I didn’t. I became a full participant. I’d let him take me the first night, allowing first-time jitters to subdue me. The second time, I’d been swept away by chocolate memories.
Not now.
Not again.
My hands mimicked his, cupping his five o’clock shadow, digging my fingernails into his cheeks.
He jolted in my hold, his lips tearing at mine as if he could eat me, bite me, consume me.
We gave up our humanness and turned ferocious.
I loved the way he kissed me. I loved the way I kissed him back. I loved the noises and hardness and rocking and touching and clawing. I adored how muggy the limo became. I relished in how my dress clung to sweat-beaded skin.
I sucked on his tongue, holding it tight as he groaned and thrust up, his hands slamming onto my hips to push me down onto him.
His body rocked as if he was already inside me, already punishing me for things I didn’t understand.
His eagerness and viciousness fed the well inside me that had been empty until he’d barged into my life. This was true lust, and I wanted to drown in the sensation of having this powerful, secretive man come apart beneath me.
His hand slid off my hip and up my skirt.
I gasped as he found my soaked underwear. He shoved it to the side with a simple flick. The moment I was bare, he thrust a finger inside me, causing my back to bend until I was sure I’d topple off his lap if he didn’t wrap a long, strong arm around my back and clutch me hard.
“Fuck you, Elle,” he panted, inserting a second finger, stretching me, stimulating the slight soreness from last night.
“Fuck me?” I blinked hurt and turned on. “Now, what did I do?”
“You’re screwing me up, that’s what.” His mouth stopped his confessions by once again seeking mine. My skin burned from his barely-there beard, stinging from fresh bruises. With my knees hugging his hips, I deepened the kiss, taking control, licking his tongue with mine.
His words turned on a carousel inside my mind: ‘You’re screwing me up. Screwing me up.’ I didn’t know how, but I was glad. I was glad because I’d learned something terrible about myself thanks to him.
I might believe I was a woman with sinew, skeleton, and heartbeat, but in reality, my soul comprised of trust and my bones calcified with belief—I was a flimsy, trusting thing who could no longer tell if her instincts were true or masquerading as ridiculous desperation for hope.
Penn yanked away, digging his fingers into my hips. He shoved me back, teetering me on his knees, revealing his erection pushing up tight against the fly of his silver tuxedo.
I’d never seen a man dressed in silver before but, my God, it suited him.
It brought out the cinnamon in his eyes, the honey in his hair, the compassion hiding deep within.
“What the fuck are you doing to me?” His gaze couldn’t hold mine, slipping over my body, locking onto my pushed aside panties and core. “It wasn’t supposed to go on this long.”
“What wasn’t?”
“This.” His groan was tortured as his thumb pressed into my wetness. “Whatever this is.”
I quaked, fighting fluttering eyelids. “You chased me.”
“Wrong.” His teeth nipped my throat. “I hunted you.”
Truth lay in that tiny paragraph, but I couldn’t decipher it.
Finding courage in his undoing, I ran my hands down his chest, heading straight to his cock. He didn’t stop me as I popped the fastener on his sleek trousers and undid the zipper.