She could hardly stifle the sounds slipping out of her mouth, tightening the grip on the grooves, nearly screaming when his tongue pressed and played with the slippery nub of her womanhood.
“Cecil, please –”
“Oh, you are begging? Sooner than I thought you would, too. I have not done anything to make you beg, Angel. Not yet,” he told her, gruffly, leaning back as he licked his lips.
He was back down in seconds, stealing the breath from her lungs with his skillful tongue that stroked and stretched into her. Penelope’s composure had taken leave of her because she heard herself murmuring, begging for more.
Cecil heard too, despite his commitment to the work he was doing between her legs, that now had her arching her back off the bed, chasing the sensations she could feel gathering. He raised his head once more, but at least this time he was gracious enough to slip his fingers into her as he spoke.
“I do not know if you realize this, but not just anyone can give this to you, Penelope. Not just any man can make you feel this way. Do you think that gentle man of yours could make you sigh like this? Do you think he could draw such sounds from your lips, could make you arch your back and yearn?”
He pressed the two fingers within her deeper, and she let go of the headboard to press a hand against her mouth to keep herself from screaming.
“No one can. No one but me.”
Penelope found herself nodding as he returned to nestle between her legs again, one of his hands reaching up to fondle and grope her breast. She could barely keep her hands off him, regardless of her restraints, wanting to sink her fingers into his hair and urge him even closer to her.
He was right. There was no one else who could make her feel like this, no one else whom she would trust with her body. The realization surprised her, but it did not distract her from reveling in her growing pleasure.
“Who do you belong to, angel? Who is the one that you will always come to when he beckons?” he asked from the spot he settled in like a king on his throne.
Penelope did not need to think of a response at all, which was rather fortunate because she could scarcely breathe, much less form the inkling of a thought.
“You,” she sighed, feeling on the brink of utter ruin.
“That’s right. You are mine,” he smirked and led her right to the pinnacle of her release.
Penelope whined, and her body spasmed beneath him, exhaling as he pulled her into his arms, pressing his lips to her cheeks.
“Good. Very good, angel. You have done very well.”
Penelope allowed herself to relax in his arms for a little bit, feeling as though her bones had melted within her flesh, wanting to bask in the warmth thrumming through her body.
It was only after he undid the knot around her wrist that reality dawned on her cruelly. Everything he had said echoed in her head, along with every agreement she had uttered, in line with his words. She did not know what – if he had meant them.
And even worse, she was unsure of what to make of her own reactions to his words, still shocked at how easy it was to tell him what he wanted to hear. And how much she meant it all.
An emotion that felt like shame but lacked its sour sting coursed through her as she slipped out of the bed and walked to where her discarded clothes were. Penelope put them on quickly, overtly aware of the silence prevalent in the room.
As she tied the straps of her dressing gown, Cecil cleared his throat, and she felt her body stiffen in anticipation.
“You know… during such moments, clarity of the mind is not – what I mean to say is that these moments are usually charged with feelings and sensations, so much so that one might say things they do not really mean.”
Slowly, she turned around to face him, ignoring the slight ache in her wrists as her lips parted and she forced herself to ask.
“Is that all this was? You were too… taken with the moment and that is why you said those things to me?”
Cecil started to stand, but then he stopped, remaining on the bed as he nodded.
“Yes. That is all it was.”
Penelope felt the shame sit even heavier within her, and she turned around, leaving his room without a word. She rushed down the hall, past her brother’s room, as she returned swiftly to her own chambers.
She should have known. She would have never given a man so much control over her – not when she knew how much she had to lose.
Penelope had never felt free without her control… so why had she trusted him so easily? Why had she thoughtlessly indulged him? This was much more than –
She stopped short, her hand on the banister of the stairs as she had been preparing to take a step down.
