Chapter 27
Griffin
I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything as sexy as Penelope Lee saying that she wants me.
Me. Griffin Mahoney—good for nothing, worthless, only useful as a battering ram or a punching bag. Except, to her, I’m more.
And I vow to myself to always find a way to be more for her. Starting now ...
“Come here,” I growl, pulling her into my lap. She squirms, settling herself right over my already hardening dick. I grind against her, and even through my sweats and her pants, it feels ridiculously good and dangerously addictive.
I would do terrible things for this woman. I would do depraved things for her. Hell, I’d let her do them to me if she wanted to. Anything at all, anything she wants, I’ll make sure it’s hers.
Leaning in, she whispers in my ear, “Is that a hockey stick or are you just glad to see me?” When she sits upright, she’s grinning, proud of her own silly joke.
In my mind, I’ve gone dark and ominous, and with one little question and her cute smile, she brings light and levity like a fucking magician.
“I don’t know whether to be flattered you’re calling it as big as a hockey stick or insulted because I’m definitely thicker than one,” I quip, arching a brow as I try to meet her mood.
“How thick is a hockey stick?” She holds her hand up, peering at the circle she’s made with her thumb and finger and wiggling on me like she’s measuring by feel.
“Do you want to compare? I’ve got a stick in the closet by the door.” The offer makes her laugh, but then I add truthfully, “And I’m definitely glad to see you.”
Her smile melts into something more meaningful as she comes closer for a kiss. She’s careful, avoiding my nose thoughtfully as her lips meld against mine, and I taste my future. A future with Penny, something I never thought could actually happen, but now ... is.
Wrapping my arms around her, I pull her in tighter before exploring her back with my palms. She reaches for the hem of her shirt, interrupting our kiss to yank it over her head and drop it to the floor before fixing me with a heated look. Her pupils are dilated with a desire I never thought I’d see from her. But there it is, for me.
Penny is mine, the way I’ve always dreamed. The way I never dared to hope.
I reach up to cup her jaw, and she tilts into my touch, closing her eyes. “You are so fucking special, Pen.”
She inhales a jagged breath before meeting my gaze once more. “You’re pretty special too,” she replies. It’s not the truth, but the way she says it, I can almost believe it. Maybe one day, it will be true.
I trace a line along the edge of her bra, down to her cleavage, then back up the other side. Through the satiny fabric, I can see the outline of her nipples hardening in response to my touch. “You like that?” I ask.
In answer, she reaches behind herself, undoing her bra and dropping it off her shoulders. Her tits fall free, right into my hands. “You likethat?” she asks right back.
“Yeah, I do.” My voice is barely a rumble, rough and gritty with desire. When I tease my thumbs over her stiffening nubs, she arches for more, so I dip my head down to take one into my mouth. She adjusts,scooting up my body as I scoot down the couch until we find a position where I can reach her better and give her what she wants. With her hands on my shoulders for leverage, I suck and lick one nipple, then the other, slowly building up the intensity until I nip and nibble, drawing a sharp intake of breath from her.
I don’t think she realizes it, but her hips have started moving, grinding against my stomach with her ass teasing the tip of my cock. After dropping a hand to the button at her waist, I make quick work of it and her zipper to give me room to slide my hand inside her pants and her panties. She’s so soaked and slippery that two of my fingers slide into her easily.
Her fingertips have been tracing lines over my chest, but now she plants them firmly, using the leverage to lift her hips so I can finger-fuck her deeper. I suck her nipple, wrapping an arm around her waist to lift her more securely, and move my fingers in and out of her with a curling, stroking motion that seems to set her on fire. I find a rhythm she matches with the faint bucking of her hips, and with every stroke, the base of my palm hits her sensitive clit. The sound of her slickness fills the room, a symphony of her desire that’s only matched by the increasing pace of her breathing.
I can feel her walls quivering, getting closer and closer, and I nip at her breast again. Judging from before, she likes to ride that sharp edge of pain and pleasure, and this time seems the same, because she cries out a breathy “yes” as she arches for more. I bite a little harder, suck a little deeper, but pull my fingers from her to focus my thumb on her clit. I swipe her slickness over her whole mound, coating her in it and knowing that I will lick up every last drop before I’m done with her. When I circle the hard nub again, a shudder instantly shoots through her. Not an orgasm, just a prequel, but I can’t help but preen at her pleasure.
I’m proud to be the man she wants to touch her this way. I want to be the only man who’s ever given this gift again, for the rest of her life. Intimacy is more than sex. I know that. It’s who you trust enough to share your hopes and fears with. It’s who you want at your side through every moment, big and small. It’s a connection felt in the soul. And for me, that’s Penny. I want to be that for her too.
But my mind has become nothing more than a driving beat of primal urges where poetic words are a foreign concept.
I want Penny’s orgasm. For her, of course, but also, selfishly, for me.
As I move my fingers faster over her clit, she wraps an arm around my neck, holding me to her so tightly that I might suffocate, but if I took my last breath while making her come, I would die a happy man, that’s for damn sure. I feel her whole body go tight and freeze, right on the edge, then I nip at her breast once more.
She explodes, her whole body spasming wildly. I dip my fingers down to her entrance, spreading her cum up to her clit, over and over, to prolong her pleasure while she rides my hand spastically. As she finishes and releases her hold on my head, I rumble, “Good girl. Now, get up here so I can taste it.”
“What?” she utters, spent.
But I’m just getting started. I help her stand for a moment, shoving her pants and soaked panties off, and she gets with the program, toeing off her tennis shoes until she’s naked before me. With a hungry eagerness, I slide to the floor, my back against the couch, and gesture her over. Standing over me, she steps her feet out, straddling my legs, and I lick my lips as her pussy comes closer.
