“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 whatrock-bottommeans.
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, sheonlylikes 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 thingsfor 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 loudslapof 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.