Page 5

Adriano

The silence in the SUV is a fucking chokehold, pressing down hard after her babysitter jab. My knuckles bleach on the wheel, the streetlights slicing her face in gold streaks.

Penelope’s slouched against the seat, legs crossed in that blue dress hiking up her thighs and flashing skin I shouldn’t clock. She’s twenty and way too young, too forbidden, too tied to Sophia. And I’m thirty-nine, too hardened to be this rattled.

But damn it, her scent—sweet, floral, spiked with beer that floods the car, clogging my lungs and having my pulse hammering like I’m some dumb kid again.

She shifts, snapping the quiet with a huff. “You’re brooding again.”

“Not brooding,” I grunt. “Driving.”

“Liar.” She twists toward me. “You’re all dark and moody over there like you always are. What’s always in that head of yours?”

“None of your damn business,” I say with a little edge in my voice, but she’s grinning, her dimples flashing, and it’s a sucker punch. She’s not the Penelope I remember, the quiet one who faded into Sophia’s orbit.

That was the Penelope of three years ago.

I saw her today for the first time since the funeral and she’s a fucking wildfire now, bold and biting, and it’s screwing with me.

I liked her better when she didn’t exist in my peripheral.

Now she’s all I can see, her skin glowing, her dress hugging every curve I shouldn’t want, and legs I’d kill to spread open and—

“You’re staring,” she says, low, catching me. Her coffee-brown eyes glint, daring me to lie.

“Road’s ahead,” I mutter, jerking my gaze forward, but my cock’s twitching, waking up fast. She’s a brat, poking at shit she doesn’t understand, and I’m a bastard for letting her get this far under my skin.

“Uh-huh.” She leans closer, elbow on the console, breath brushing my arm. “You think I’m pretty, don’t you?”

“Christ, Penelope.” I roll my eyes, throat dry. “You’re drunk.”

“So?” Her fingers graze my sleeve, lightly. “Answer me.”

I shouldn’t. I should shut this down, dump her at her door, and bury it. But she’s relentless, heat rolling off her, and my walls are cracking like old plaster. One day—hours—since she walked back into my life, and I’m strung out, craving her like some pimply kid chasing his first lay.

I nod. “Objectively speaking.”

She tilts her head, watching me. “Objectively speaking? That sounds like you’re trying not to say something inappropriate.”

I smile. “I don’t try to do anything.”

Her laugh is soft but knowing. “You really don’t, do you?”

I don’t answer. I shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.

I’m already breaking the rules just by taking her home.

Indulging this back-and-forth, watching her shift in her seat, admiring the way the passing headlights skim over her skin—I’m testing my own limits.

And I don’t like feeling out of control.

She leans closer, lowering her voice. “If you were trying to say something inappropriate, what would it be?”

I glance at her, my patience thinning. “Just try to sleep it off before we get to your house.”

Her smile widens. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting,” I say, voice rough.

She studies me like she wants to push further, to see how much I can take before I snap. Then she beams and shifts so her knee bumps mine. “Say it like you mean it.”

“Fuck’s sake,” I growl, glaring at her. “You’re fucking stunning, alright? Now sit back.”

She laughs and it’s bright, reckless and it’s a match to gasoline. Her hand slides higher, brushing my forearm, and my skin’s blazing, a burn I can’t kill.

“See? Wasn’t so hard,” she teases. “Bet you’ve been thinking it all night.”

“Keep dreaming,” I shoot back, but she’s right.

That dress, so short, tight, and hugging every curve, has been replaying in my mind since I saw her.

One look today, and I’m a goddamn mess, wanting to rip it off, shove her down, and fuck her till she’s hoarse from screaming my name.

It’s been hours, not years, and I’m acting like I’ve never seen a woman before, dick throbbing like I’m sixteen again.

She’s Sophia’s best friend. Nineteen years my junior.

A line I can’t cross. But my dick’s got no morals.

“You’re fun when you’re mad,” she says, grinning wider, leaning so close her breath hits my neck. “Bet I could make you madder.

“Try it,” I warn, voice a jagged edge, but she’s fearless, her fingers trailing to my wrist, lingering.

“Oh, I will.” Her lips graze my ear softly, and my hold firms, the wheel creaking. “You’re hot when you’re grumpy, you know that?”

“Penelope,” I rasp, shoving her hand off, but my blood’s roaring, surging south.

She’s flirting hard, shamelessly, and I’m a heartbeat from breaking because I’m already picturing her under me, those thighs wide, her center dripping wet and my hands bruising her hips as I pound into her till she’s mine.

But she’s not and she can never be. Your daughter’s death should be your bloody reminder.

We hit her street, my tires crunching the gravel, and I slam the brakes a little too hard. Her building looms ahead with cracked siding.

Why is she living in this dump? But it isn’t my business. The quicker she gets out of my life, the better.

I kill the engine, and the silence is electric, snapping between us. She doesn’t move, just watches me with lips parted and eyes dark with intent.

She shifts again, her fingers playing with the hem of her dress and the movement draws my eyes before I force them away. Her lips part slightly, like she’s about to say something. Or maybe she’s just waiting for me to close the space between us.

But I won’t. I’m smarter than that.

“Go inside, Penelope.”

She leans in instead, close enough her breath fans my jaw. “You don’t want me to.”

“Penelope.” My voice is a growl, warning, but she’s suddenly deaf. Her hand slides to my thigh—bold, too fucking bold—and my cock jumps, straining painfully against my slacks.

“Kiss me,” she whispers, lips an inch from mine, daring me. “I know you want to.”

I do. Fuck, I do. I want to crush her mouth, taste her, own her till she’s trembling.

Her heat seeps into me and I’m caught between shoving her off and pulling her closer.

Our breaths tangle, I’m slowly caving already imagining her naked and writhing with my tongue buried in her cunt, her screams ringing in my ears.

“Shower,” I snarl and force her door open. “Bed. Now.”

She blinks, dazed, then smiles. “Yes, boss.” She slides out, hips swaying as she stumbles to her door.

After making sure she enters and the door closes behind her, I peel out, my tires howling, trying to ditch her—those legs, that mouth, her goddamn nerve shredding me. Then I spot it, her phone, winking at me from the seat. Shit.

I shouldn’t go back. She can grab it later or I can give it to Gianna. But fuck, she’s alone in that dump, what if some bastard breaks in and she’s got no way to call for help?

Excuses. Fucking excuses. I know it’s a lie. I just want her under my skin again.

Muttering a cuss, I spin the SUV around, the headlights cutting the dark, and roll back to her place.

When I arrive, I park and walk up the front steps to find that the door’s unlocked. Ok, that is dumb as hell. I’ll give her an earful later. I’m just going to drop this quickly and be out of here.

The place is faintly scented like her.

I move through the apartment, following the distant sound of running water. When I reach her room, I see the bathroom door is open with steam spilling out.

“Penelope?” I call, gruff, but no answer.

Just to check that she hasn’t slumped since she drank so much, I walk forward and take a look and there she is.

Naked. Wet. Unaware that I’m standing at the threshold, watching as the water cascades over her skin. My breath comes slower but my body responds instantly, every muscle going rigid with restraint.

God, she’s grown.

Full tits, tight waist, hips curved just right, all slick and glistening like a fucking fantasy. My cock’s rock-hard instantly, aching, and I can’t move. She’s humming, her head tipped back, oblivious, and I’m a sick fuck for standing here, staring.

I should leave but my feet lock, and my hand drops to my dick, stroking slowly through my pants. She shifts, the soap sudsing over her breasts, dripping down her stomach, and I bite my tongue, tasting blood.

Damn, I’ve got no control, no shame. I want to storm in, slam her against the tile and fuck her till she passes out. I want her cunt clenching around me as I fill her up.

I exhale sharply, forcing myself to turn away, stepping back into the shadows before I lose the last thread of self-control I have left.

Her phone thuds onto the bed—I don’t even clock letting go—and I’m out, door banging shut, back in the car.

The engine roars as I peel away with her naked body burned into my brain. One hand tearing at my fly, freeing my thick, leaking cock.

I stroke hard, fast, precum slicking my fist as I picture her spread wide on my bed, her wrists bound with my tie and her legs forced apart, her cunt glistening, pink and swollen.

The things I would do to her should have me locked up.

I’d bury my face between her thighs and drive my tongue deep and vicious, tasting her for the torment she’s put me through.

She’d buck against me, her cries breaking loose as slickness coats my chin.

Then I’d flip her onto her knees, position her ass up, and slam into her from behind.

Her flesh would tremble as she stretched around me.

She’d gasp my name and plead for a break, but I’d keep going, denying her any mercy.

How can I be seeing her for the first time in three years and I’m this feral and unraveling? What hold does this woman have on me?

Why do I picture her dropping to her knees and then shoving my cock deep in her mouth? Watching as she gags as I thrust roughly, fucking her throat raw. Reveling in those tears spilling down her cheeks, and her lips swelling red as she chokes around me.

I want her bent over my desk with her skirt hiked up, no panties. I want to slap her ass hard till my handprints bloom as I pound into her. I’d love to see her cunt juice drip down her thighs as she clenches tight around me. I want to unload inside, marking her deep, and ruin her completely.

I want to fuck her in every position I can think of.

I want her spread on my bed. Her wrists tied, her legs forced apart, and my tongue buried in her.

I want her screams as I suck her clit, her body jerking wild.

I want to flip her over and slam into her from behind again.

I want to watch her ass ripple with each brutal thrust. I want my hand circling her throat, squeezing till she’s close to meeting her maker.

I want her pulse racing under my fingers, her gasps shifting to moans as I drive her into oblivion.

And like some cruel punishment for the last three years, Sophia’s face flashes before me. A haunting I can’t outrun, born from less than five minutes of reckless judgment.

Her laughter. Then blood.

Guilt tears through me but the darkness is stronger—it always is. Haven’t we suffered enough? Haven’t we both?

I growl, my hand stroking faster, Penelope’s voice ringing in my head: “Harder, Adriano, fuck me harder.” I imagine her pussy spasming as I tighten my hands on her throat. Then she comes, screaming, wrecked, and I’m lost, spilling over the edge with her.

One damn day. That’s all it took.

Now I’m here, my cock in hand, lost in the filth of wanting her.

I should stop. I should feel shame, disgust, something that pulls me back from this edge.

But I don’t.

She’s going to ruin me this time.

And I think I’ll let her. I have nothing left to lose anyways.