I always knew that if I fucked Penelope, I’d break my rule and fuck her more than once. Knew it long before I found out how tightly her cunt grips my cock.
Ah, well. That rule wasn’t the first thing I broke today; won’t be the last, either.
Dark humor fills me as Penelope slams the door behind herself, making the portholes quiver in her wake. I’m sure she’s expecting me to chase her, but where’s the fun in that? Instead, I down the rest of my vodka, shrug off my jacket and drape it neatly over the backrest of an armchair, tap out a text to delay my flight, then switch over to my security camera app.
That amusement melts into a tight laugh. Silly girl. She flew out of the library and took a left into my private quarters. Each room connects with the next, following the semi-circle shape of the bow. All I have to do is stroll out of this room and take a right, and we’ll bump into each other in the living room or my cabin.
Either will do absolutely fine.
As I slip out of the library and into the meeting room behind it, a reckless thrill racks through me so violently, I can taste it at the back of my throat. In the spirit of being honest, I must admit I love playing games with this girl.
Especially when the loser gets spanked.
The meeting room melts into my study, and as I draw nearer to the connecting door, incoming footsteps and ragged breaths seep out from the gap underneath it.
For pure theatrics, I crack the belt in my hand, and no sooner than the thawp pollutes the air does a muffled squeal soak through the door and touch my groin.
Penelope crashes into my chest the moment I yank the door open.
“Going somewhere?”
As always, her eyes answer for her, darting into the study behind me. Suddenly, I understand why she cheats at card games. It’s not because she fancies herself as a swindler, but because she’d never win fair-and-square with a poker face that bad.
I’m half-tempted to fuck an impassive disposition into her before allowing her off the boat.
When her tense stance suggests she’s going to make a break for it, I crack my belt again, hard. The noise flashes in her eyes like a warning sign well-received. She comes to a sudden stop, her gaze sliding south to the leather in my hand.
“What’s that for?”
“Come here and I’ll show you.”
But of course, disobedience drips from Penelope’s pores and she does the exact opposite. I chase her staggered retreat to the armrest of the sofa, reaching out and grabbing her by the scruff of my hoodie before she can break her back falling over it.
“What a coincidence—this is exactly where I wanted you.”
She lets out a strangled noise that dulls when I flip her onto her front, bend her over the armrest, and push her face into the seat cushion. Preempting her struggle, I pin her thighs to the side of the sofa with my own.
Her hands scrunch into fists by her head. “I don’t want to alarm you, but I think you’re having a breakdown.”
I bite back the humor rising up my throat. I’m not having a breakdown; I’m having a break. Taking a hiatus from pretending everything is fine-and-fucking dandy. How much longer could I have looked out my window to the raging fire outside and convinced myself it’s a beautiful summer’s day? Fuck it. I’ll open the front door and let the flames lick my skin. Let the smoke blacken my insides.
My world is on fire, and I want to punish the girl who lit the match.
My touch is rough and self-serving as I run flat palms over the backs of her thighs. Fuck, I love everything about these thighs. The way my fingertips disappear into her flesh when I squeeze them. How they taste when I can’t resist sinking my teeth into them.
I grab her shorts and yank them down, exhaling at the view.
What’s in between them.
Her pink pussy lips spill out from between quivering legs, bordered by soft, auburn hair. The sight pulls my muscles taught, and I can’t resist the temptation to brush my knuckle over them. I wish I hadn’t, because when Penelope rises on tip-toes for more, her bare ass grazes my cock through my slacks and sends a river of sizzling need through my veins.
Clenching my jaw, I flatten my palm on the small of her back to stop her wriggling. Take a step back and glare at the ceiling long enough to let the impulse pass.
Belt. Right. Gripping the buckle in my fist, I run the length over the back of her thigh. A dark excitement slides south and pulsates in my groin at her muscles tensing under mine.
The leather reaches the curve of her ass and I hold it there. “What was it you wanted to tell me again?”
Her labored breathing stops. “Nothing important.”
“Answer me, Penelope.”
Her fingernails dig into the cushion. She sighs. “I don’t want to stay on this boat with you.”
Her shoulders stiffen in anticipation, but when the blow doesn’t come, she glances back at me through a curtain of hair, her violent eyes tinged with caution.
I meet it with a perfect smile. “Lucky.”
She frowns. “What?”
“That’s your safe word, Penelope. I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”
My belt comes down on her ass, halting her protest. It was the lightest, most restrained spank I could muster, but still, the crack is satisfying and her cry is electric. It soaks into my skin and charges all the atoms underneath it.
“Can’t hear you,” I grind out. “Try again.”
“I’m not staying—”
I spank her again, this time a little harder. A pink blush blooms against her pale cheek, and I skim my thumb over its soft heat in morbid fascination. “Maybe say it louder?”
“Maybe get a fucking hearing aid?” she hisses breathlessly into the pillow.
When she braces again, I wipe away my smirk with the back of my hand. Either this girl has a medical condition that makes her physically unable to keep her mouth shut, or she actually enjoys the brunt of my belt.
My gaze travels over the curve of her back and drinks her in.
I’d laugh in disbelief, had the little brat not ruined my life. Because now, as the harsh winter sun streams through the portholes, dancing over her skin and highlighting the red in her hair, it’s obvious she’ll be my downfall. Just fucking look at her. In my hoodie, of all things. It swamps her frame and I’d tear it off to get a better look at what’s underneath, if I didn’t feel such a masochistic pleasure from her wearing it.
Begrudgingly, I get it now: why men like seeing women in their shit. Wearing my clothes, my watch, it feels like she’s mine. Until I’m done breaking her, at least.
Spurred on by her insolence and the odd tightness in my throat, I brace my other hand on the small of her back and whip her ass again. The impact is hard enough to lurch her body half a foot forward. Every curse word under the sun spills from her lips, followed by a breathy moan. The lust-coated sound tugs on my cock like a siren call, sending a dull, restless ache to my balls.
Fuck. She’s enjoying this. Massaging her red cheek with my palm, I slide my other hand between her thighs and graze my fingertips over her pussy lips for confirmation. She’s so wet, so hot, my vision dims for a moment. All I can hear over the roaring in my ears are Penelope’s strangled little sighs.
So, Penelope likes it rough—as if I needed any more evidence Fate has tailor-made my doom card to my exact liking. But because the girl has a talent for turning me into a mad man, a sudden, vicious thought heats my chest. How does she know she likes it rough? Who else has broken their belt over her ass and brought her to that conclusion?
Blinded by a spark of rage, I grip the belt at my side and plunge two fingers inside her. She clenches around me so tightly, that I swear I see stars on the backs of my eyelids.
“Whose pussy is this, Penelope?”
It’s a ridiculous question, one that’s never come out my mouth in my fucking life. I couldn’t care less who a girl fucks after I’ve emptied my balls inside her. Hell, as long as I’m not getting my cousins’ sloppy seconds, they can do whatever they want. But the thought of another man laying claim on this girl, my Queen of Hearts, even long after I’m done with her, has turned me into a rabid dog, barking out shit I don’t mean.
“Answer the fucking question,” I snap, scissoring my fingers inside of her.
She goes rigid. Curls her hands under the pillow and buries her face into the top of it. It’s barely a whisper, but I hear it through a megaphone.
“Mine.”
A growl rises up my throat, and I catch her garbled, “But we can share!” as my belt whistles through the air and breaks over her ass.
I let my belt go slack in disbelief. If the sight of her squirming against the arm rest for friction didn’t send a heady fire along the length of my dick, I’d be impressed at her pig-headedness.
“Share? You think I only want your pussy on Wednesday and Saturdays, or something?”
“You’ll get what you’re given,” she mumbles. But I know she regrets her choice of words, because she squeals an apology when my hand curls around the hemline of her hoodie to keep her in place and throw my back into the next blow. It’s fueled by hot jealousy and obsession and the moment the crack pierces the air, I taste regret. It was way too hard.
Fuck. I glance up to assess her reaction, but she gives me nothing except curled fists and heavy breaths.
“Penelope.”
She turns her face toward the backrest and my fucking throat tightens.
“Cazzo,” I mutter, letting my belt slide from my hand. I follow it to the floor, sinking to my knees and planting a gentle kiss against the fresh welt on her ass. It’s not lost on me that the gypsy said the Queen of Hearts would bring me to my knees. Turns out, she meant it literally. “Talk to me.”
“I’m fine,” she bites out in a tone that suggests she’s anything but. “Don’t stop.”
With the heat of her cunt warming my face, I can’t resist nestling between her thighs and licking her from clit to ass. Her muscles soften against my ears, letting me in.
“Whose pussy, Penelope?” I ask again, gentler this time. I punctuate the question with a swirl of my tongue around her entrance. The tremor that vibrates through her makes me repeat the move.
“Mine.”
“Yours?”
“Yes.”
I pause. “And will that still be your answer when I spank you so hard you cry?”
Her thighs tighten around my jaw. Christ, in this world, it’s a blessing to die from old age and not a bullet, but I’d happily take being crushed to death by Penelope’s thighs as an alternative option. Like that Bond Girl in GoldenEye.
She inhales a shaky breath and inches herself down on my flat tongue. “Yes.”
Irritation heats my belly. I skim my teeth along her folds, before sucking on her clit. It leaves my mouth with a wet pop.
“And when I make you cry, will you use your safe word?”
Her turn to pause. “No.”
Rising to my feet, I push her ass away with an angry shove, but catch her just before she falls over the edge of the arm rest.
“You’re a stubborn little bitch, you know that?”
She twists her head, lifting her eyes to mine. Fuck, they are as blue as the ocean and look like they are just as wet. “Yes,” she says quietly.
I huff out a dry laugh, but it’s devoid of all humor and catches in my throat. Stubborn is an understatement. This girl wouldn’t give me what I wanted if I dragged her out to the middle of Devil’s Dip, stripped her naked, and flogged her.
Raking my fingers through my hair, I turn my attention to the quilted wallpaper, needing a respite from Penelope’s doe-eyed expression. This is one of the many reasons I only fuck girls from behind. Thing is, I learned this morning that when Penelope withholds her focus from me for too long, I have a sick habit of forcing her to look at me anyway.
Shaking my head, I let my eyes fall back to her ass. Red and ruined. The violent throb in my cock is at odds with the unease in my stomach. Ironic, really. I dragged her onto this yacht with bloodied hands, with every intention to ruin her before she did me. And yet, one stray tear has got me in a chokehold, wondering if shit like chocolate and hot water bottles will stop another from falling.
This must be what rock-bottom means.
I push away all simp-like thoughts about candy and aftercare and slide my hands under her hoodie, gripping Penelope on the dip of her hip.
Fuck it; I’ll give her the best orgasm of her life.
I stoop to kiss her ass again, muttering something embarrassing in Italian, but just as I’m about to sink back between her cheeks, a hand grabs my forearm and stops me.
My gaze slides up to Penelope’s. It hardens the longer I’m trapped in it.
“Don’t be nice.”
My jaw tightens. “Why?”
“I don’t like it.”
We stare at each other for a few tense seconds, her words and their meaning soaking into my skin like acid rain. So, not only does she like it rough, she only likes it rough. Stormy thoughts of other men and their belts zap through me, dissolving all guilt.
My eyes never leave hers as I snatch the belt off the floor. I wrap it around my busted fists and pull it taut. Penelope exhales and drops her head to the cushion, but I pull her up by the hood of my sweater.
“What are you—?”
I cut her off by sliding the strap of the belt into her mouth. I fist both the buckle and loop in one palm and yank her up onto her hands, like she’s on reins.
As my lips graze the shell of her ear, my tone lowers to a warning. “If it gets too much and you don’t use your safe word, I’ll tie you to my bed and torture you with nice things. Got it?”
Her gaze slides sideways, laced with suspicion. “Like what?” she gargles.
I pause. Fuck knows—I’ve never done those type of nice things for a woman in my life. But now I’m leaning over her, my erection is pressing against her bare ass, and the warm, wet heat of it is burning through my slacks. I can’t focus on hypothetical torture at a time like this.
“You know, romantic shit,” I grunt out.
I catch her look of alarm before adjusting the slack on the belt so I can get behind her without snapping her jaw.
My cock aches to be released, springing to attention the second I yank down my zipper. When I sink my head into her folds, white delirium trickles through me like venom, electrifying my nerves and poisoning my brain with feverish thoughts. Like, how the fuck will I last longer than a few minutes now that I’ve got Penelope gagging on my belt?
Christ, she’s tight. Fighting every sadistic whisper in my brain, I slow my pace and let her body guide me inside her. Drawing back when her spine straightens under my palm, I then give more of myself when she pulls taut against my belt, trying to drop to her elbows and lift her ass up for a deeper angle.
The sound of frustration pulls my eyes up to meet hers. She’s straining against leather to look at me, conveying her annoyance with my leisurely pace.
I smile.
She scowls.
Then I drive into her, hard.
Her head falls forward, and the sight of her clamping down on my belt to stifle her moan is so hot I can barely stand it. I grind my molars at the vice-like grip of her cunt, the way it feels like a desperate tug every time she lurches forward. The loud slap of her cheeks when she slams down to my base draws my eyes to the sight, and fuck, if it won’t be burned into my retinas forever.
I need more of her, her soft skin under my palms and under my tongue. Driven by madness, I pull the belt tighter until she’s no longer bent over the sofa, but flush against my chest. With another small tug, her head drops back against my collarbone, exposing her throat to me. She smells so good I don’t think twice about sinking my teeth into her racing pulse, then licking the mark I left when she lets out a sharp hiss of breath.
My free hand skims under my hoodie and over her stomach, squeezing one of her tits. “What about these, Queenie?” I growl against the shell of her ear. “These yours too?”
Before she can choke out a muffled reply, I roll her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, thrusting into her to absorb the shudder that vibrates through her core.
“I’ll get back to you on that one,” she gasps, her pussy clenching around me.
I hold her there, playing with her tits, my mouth giving equal attention to her neck and earlobe, until the flush on her throat darkens a few shades.
“Please,” she gasps over leather. “Please.”
My stomach tenses against her spine. “You want to come?”
Her teeth saw against my belt as she nods frantically.
Fuck. I had to damn-near torture her to get that word out of her mouth this morning, and the fact she’s now giving it to me so freely sends an inferno through my veins so hot it could melt steel.
“Good girl,” I mutter against her pulse, sliding my hand between her legs. “You’re such a good girl when you beg.”
She twists her face away from my words and grinds restlessly against my hand, working the length of my dick in a frenzy. I rub her clit hard and fast, watching her profile in fascination as she writhes against my restraint.
“Fuck,” is the last thing she grinds out, before her body shudders violently against mine. The sound of her strangled moans, the way her pussy pulsates around me—bring me so close to the edge that I couldn’t turn back even if I wanted to. Her limbs go so limp that I cage her in with my forearm and hold her upright. I tug her head back with the belt and bury my face in the collar of her hoodie. My hoodie. The last thing that crosses my mind before a white-hot orgasm wreaks havoc through me, is how fucking good her scent smells mixed with my own.
Muscles weakening, I let the belt slide from my grip, my arm leaves Penelope’s waist, and I let her slump forward over the armrest. I fuck her with long, lethargic strokes while I catch my breath, then give her ruined ass a light spank of approval.
“You’re trouble Queenie. You know that?”
Wordlessly, she slides off me, pulls down the hoodie so it covers her ass, and glances toward the door.
My spine stiffens. The fact I’m still drunk off her pussy, yet she’s already scouting out the exit, pisses me off. The irony isn’t lost on me—I’ve been the one zipping up my slacks and scanning for my car keys before the girl can offer me a post-fuck coffee more times than I can count. Doesn’t feel as easy when the shoe is on the other foot.
“Going somewhere?” I ask tightly.
“Mm. I’ll probably shower and catch a ride back to the Coast. Have you seen my shorts?”
She spots them draped over the corner of a cabinet and stalks toward them. As she passes, I grab her wrist and toss her back onto the sofa. Her ass hits the cushions and she winces.
“Stay here.” Her focus slides to the door again, tightening my shoulder blades. “I’ll tie you to this fucking sofa if you move.”
A few moments later, I come back into the room with a bottle in hand, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel relief at the sight of her perched on the edge of the sofa, even if she looks like she’s waiting to see the dentist.
Eyes cautious, she tracks my movements as I sit beside her. Before she can argue, I pull her across my lap, ass up.
“Um, what the fuck?”
“Shut up, Penelope.”
My tone is harsher than I intend it to be, but her desire to be anywhere but here has stirred a layer of unease under my skin. She tenses when I pull up the hem of my hoodie, revealing the fresh bruises that decorate her ass.
Softening at the sight, I exhale a ragged breath and gently run the back of my hand over her burning skin. “Does it hurt?”
“Wasn’t that the point?”
She’s right, it was the point. Once again, my rage-fueled plan of dragging her onto this yacht and ruining her has been corrupted by something unwanted expanding beneath my ribs. Ridiculous. I can’t stand the girl. Can’t stand how her bad luck has bled into every corner of my life. And yet, here I am, a bottle of cocoa butter in my hand, itching to take the pain away.
Maybe it is a breakdown.
As I squirt lotion onto her ass, she stops breathing. Her thighs tense against my own.
“Relax, Penelope,” I murmur, slowly rubbing the cream over the curve of her ass. When she doesn’t do as she’s told, I repeat the command with a harsher tone. Eventually, her muscles soften under my palms and her breathing shallows. Good girl is dancing on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it.
Outside, a storm swallows the sky. Light rain patter hardens against the windows, until it’s so loud I almost miss the sweet sigh that escapes Penelope’s lips.
She twists her head and looks up at me through half-mast lashes.
“Why are you doing this?”
Irritation tightens my jaw. How can this girl like to fuck rough if she doesn’t know what happens after the fact? I bite down the urge to demand to know who has spanked her, and add their deaths to my list of errands. Instead, I turn my attention back to my hands gliding frictionlessly over her thighs.
“If I don’t put you back together after I break you, then there’ll be nothing to break next time.” My gaze slides up to hers, just in time to see heat burning through the haze.
“Does a massage come with every spanking?”
My lips tilt. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement.”
“And do I just ignore your dick digging into my stomach?”
Now, I let out a dry laugh. This girl. I’ve just emptied my balls less than five minutes ago, and I’m already rock-hard underneath her again.
I glance at my watch. “Yes. As much as I’d like you to take care of it with your mouth, I’ve got a plane to catch.”
Her stomach tenses. “Where are you going?”
“Why, going to miss me?”
She scowls. “Like a hole in the head.”
I’m about to give her ass a hard flick when uncertainty shifts through her expression and gives me pause.
I sigh. Despite not knowing whether I want to chain her to my bed and use her as my personal sex slave or toss her overboard, I know it’s unfair to expect her to stay here without any idea what’s going on.
I pour some more cream on her ass. Massage it dangerously close to her slick slit. Inhaling sharply, she pushes up against my hand, but I press her back down with a flat palm, willing my cock not to get side-tracked.
“Ever since you turned up on the Coast, bad things have happened, Penelope.”
She groans. “I thought you were joking. Seriously, you can’t blame your bad business decisions on me. I’m literally the luckiest girl—”
I give her a light spank to cut her off. “I don’t give a shit how lucky you think you are; you’re not lucky to me.”
“It doesn’t make sense. If you think just being around me makes you unlucky, what the hell do you think will happen now you’ve been inside me?”
Laughter rises up my throat, swept away by that newly familiar feeling of recklessness. My gaze trails my fingers as they disappear over the slope of her thigh, grazing her puffy lips.
“I’m past the point of caring, Penelope. Past the point of trying to resist you.” Fuck it, my jet can wait on the tarmac a little longer. I push a finger into her, bending to brush my lips against her ass cheek. “Let it all burn.”
She writhes out of my grip like a slippery eel, and I catch her by the waist before she ends up on the carpet.
“I don’t do this,” she blurts out, clambering to her feet.
“Do what?”
“Men.”
“I don’t do men either.”
“No, I mean—” She lets out a noise of frustration, shaking her head. “I mean, I’m not looking for anything serious. I don’t do relationships, or cutesy things like…butt kisses and breakfast.”
“You didn’t like my eggs?”
She moves toward the door. “Okay, you know what—”
I grab her wrist and yank her on top of me. She fights against my grip for all of three seconds, before meeting my stare and slowing to compliance.
She swallows. Lowers her voice so I can barely hear it over the rain. “I mean, if there’s any chance you’ll fall in love with me, you should probably just put me on a boat and send me back to shore right now.”
We stare at each other. Then I burst out laughing.
Penelope scowls, slamming a palm into my chest. “What, is falling in love with me so hard to believe?”
I tuck a stray red strand behind her ear, ignoring the pressure expanding in my chest. “Impossible.”
She already knows my biggest secret, that I’m superstitious. She doesn’t need to know I chose the King of Diamonds instead of the King of Hearts, too.
Love isn’t an option. Let alone with the girl that’s ruined my life.
My cell buzzes on the coffee table, reminding me I have shit to do. “You staying here or not?”
“And if I wanted to leave?”
I bite my tongue. The truth would scare her: I’d drag her back onboard kicking and screaming.
Instead, I run my hands up the backs of her thighs, pulling her onto my erection. “You don’t like being fucked by me, Penelope?”
The muscle in her jaw ticks. Her lids flutter shut. “Fine. We can be enemies with benefits.”
I arch a brow. “Enemies?”
“Well, we’re not exactly friends, are we?”
I hold back a smirk. “I suppose not.” Dropping back against the sofa, I hold my hand out for her to shake. “Enemies with benefits then.”
She glares down at it, like she wants to bite off my fingers. “Of course, I have some terms and conditions.”
“Of course,” I say in amusement.
“First of all, I need my phone. I think I left it in your car when you turned into the Hulk this morning.”
Of course she needs her phone. How else am I going to obsessively listen to every vapid thought she has if she can’t spill it to my hotline? “Done.”
“And I don’t want Laurie or the others to know I’m staying here. It’s…” She saws her lip between her teeth, searching for the word. “Weird.”
I laugh. “Fine.”
“And I want to be home for Christmas.”
I consider this. It’s less than a week away. “Okay.” Doesn’t mean I don’t want you back afterward.
“And—”
“Jesus, Penelope. Do I need to fly in a lawyer?”
She tugs on my collar pin to shut me up. “And, I’m not a floating Rapunzel. If you think I’m going to be holed up here like a woman waiting for her husband to return home from war, then you’ve got another thought coming. I need to be taken back to shore whenever I want.”
“Yeah, not going to happen.”
A look of disgust dents her features. “What, worried I won’t come back?”
She’d be doing me a favor if she didn’t come back, but that’s not the reason I don’t want her flitting around the Coast right now. Raking my teeth over my bottom lip, I drink in her dark expression with amusement. “You’ll stay here until I’m back, and then we’ll discuss this again.”
To my surprise, she drops it, but then when her eyes spark with mischief, I realize there’s a motive behind her obedience. She runs her finger up and down my collar pin, biting her lip. “You know, if we’re to be enemies with benefits, you’ll have to kiss me.”
I laugh. “Will I now?”
She hitches a shoulder. “Yeah, it’d be weird if you didn’t.”
“You’re right.”
Her eyes slide up to mine, big and blue. “I am?”
My fingers slide into her hair and grip the base of her head. I pull her face to mine; my mouth is close to hers, I can feel the heat off her lips. Hear the gulp in her throat.
“Nice try,” I whisper.
She curses as I slide her off my lap and rise to my feet.
“Chef Marco prepares my meals and leaves them in the freezer. Help yourself to them and anything else on the yacht.” I tug out my wallet and toss my Amex on the coffee table. “You already have my spare card but I’m guessing it’s in my car along with your phone. Use this.” My gaze rises to hers. “I’m sure you remember the pin,” I say dryly.
“Obviously.” She swoops it up and holds it up to the light. “Hmm. I don’t think they deliver pizza to the middle of the Pacific.”
“They will if you tip well enough.”
As I stroll toward the door, her presence tugs on my back. I have this ridiculous urge to delay my flight another hour. Not even just to fuck her again, but to just…do this. Talk shit and piss her off.
Instead, I grip the door handle and tell her, “Try not to burn the place down, Penelope.”
“Rafe?” The way she says my name bounces like an echo in my chest. I pause, glaring at the wood grain on the door. “All my other fuck buddies call me Penny.”
Violence hits me like a lightning bolt.
“And all your other fuck buddies will be six-feet-under if you mention them again.”
