Page 37

37

BEN

I should never have taken her to New York. Spending that time with her, sharing my bed, being able to touch her, hold her hand and kiss her whenever I wanted, spoiled me. Even though it was only for a short time.

But now I’m back in Syracuse, keeping my distance because she doesn’t want to tell the Bradys just yet. I suppose it’s better this way, I need to be focusing on our last games and trying to end the season on a couple of wins. Even if we don’t make the playoffs, I want us to end on a high.

Secretly stealing coveted looks and little touches with Penelope when I can, without anyone seeing, is irritating me. So much so I’ve snapped at most of the staff in the office, told Angie to get back to work on numerous occasions—because she’s taking Penelope’s attention away from me—and I’m pouting like a little baby about it all. It’s been a week since we came home, and I’m about to blow my lid if I don’t get her on her own soon.

But I have a plan. One that should work at keeping both of us sated without jeopardising her secrecy rule.

Striding from my office like a man on a mission, I step outside and find Angie perched on her Penelope’s desk. Again.

The smile falls from my face, replaced with a grimace. “Angie, do you not have work to do?” My tone is biting, but Angie just smirks and raises her brow.

She flicks her blonde hair over her shoulder smugly. “I’m discussing work with Penny. I needed her input on something to do with the Christmas party.”

“What could you possibly need to discuss with Penelope about the Christmas party? We’ve arranged everything and have no need for the PR team to be involved.” I fold my arms over my chest and hit her with a glare.

“You used to be cool. What happened, Boss? Someone piss in your PG Tips this morning?”

Laughter barrels out of my throat, forcing my snippy mood away. “Angie, you’re a fucking terror.”

“I know, but you love me for it.” She hops off Penelope's desk, curtseys, and winks.

“We love you despite it, not for it. And what are PG Tips anyway?” Penelope pokes her in the side and Angie sticks her tongue out and mumbles, “Teabags,” which elicits the most beautiful laugh from Penelope.

And my heart beats a little faster. I’ve got it bad for this woman, and I’m not even sorry about it.

Oh really? You’re not worried about history repeating itself? The little voice in the back of my mind perks up, but I manage to shut it down by looking into Penelope’s eyes, watching as the office lights make the gold in them twinkle, reminding me of the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree while we were skating.

“Earth to Ben… Mr. Elias? You still with us?” Angie snaps her fingers in front of my eyes and brings me back to the now.

“I’m fine. Get back to work, Angie.” She rolls her eyes but slowly turns away from the desk. “Penelope, I need you to stay late tonight. I’ve got a conference call with a colleague later, the only time he can do it is after hours, and I need your assistance.” I narrow my eyes at her, willing her to see through my lie, and smirk when the realisation dawns on her face. Angie hesitates for just a second, probably trying to hear her response.

“Okay, I just need to call my dad and let him know I won’t be able to visit with him tonight.”

Instant guilt swarms through me, and I’m just about to tell her not to worry, when Angie comes through and saves my arse without even knowing it.

“I can pop in and make sure he’s doing okay. I haven’t seen Hank in a few days and I miss his face.”

A smile stretches across my face, and I don’t care that I look like a loon. All I’m focusing on is thanking the gods for sending Angie to us when they did. And yes, I know it’s a complete 360, but who am I to judge myself. Not when I have the opportunity to have Penelope all to myself tonight.

“Do you mind? I saw him when I first came home, and I know Mama and Pops have been keeping him company as well, but I feel like a bad daughter.”

“You’re far from a bad daughter, Lit— Penelope.” I clear my throat at my almost slip up, and hastily turn my back on them both. “I have work to do. I’ll see you later.”

I don’t miss the whispered, “What was that about?” or the, “I don’t know,” muttered between the girls, but I do smile as I close the door, knowing I’ve secured some one-on-one time with my Little One.

A gentle knocking sends my pulse racing, but I force the urge to jump up and run over to yank the door off its hinges in my excitement. I lean back in my chair, ankle resting on my thigh, and call, “Enter.”

She strolls in, closes the door behind her, raises her brow, and pops her hip out with her hand placed on it.

“Enter? Really? We’re in douchebag mode, I see.” Her eyes drop to the floor and widen as she spots the blanket I’ve laid out, the picnic basket in the centre, and two glasses of champagne chilling. “Oh my…”

Her hand falls to her chest and she bites on her lip. I take that as my cue to stand and stroll over to her, taking her hand from her chest and placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

“Still a douche?” I lead her to the blanket, but not before flicking the lock on my office door and pulling the remote out of my pocket to close the blinds. We’re completely closed off from the outside world now, and I take advantage and let my hand trail down to her lower back, wrap it around her waist, and pull her close to me. I bury my nose in her hair and let the scents of green apple and vanilla consume me.

“I missed you, Little One.” She shivers as I drag my nose up the column of her throat and nibble on her ear.

“I missed you too. Why didn’t you think of this sooner?” She turns her body to face me and lets her eyes meet mine. “Also, did you forget I don’t drink alcohol?” She grins and motions with her hand to the glasses.

Rather than feeling embarrassed at forgetting such an important thing, I smirk and bend to grab a glass and the bottle chilling in the ice bucket next to the basket. “Tut, tut, Penelope. Do you really think so little of me? Just because you don’t drink alcohol doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a glass of champagne.” Holding the bottle up so she can read the non-alcoholic part of the label, she laughs, takes the glass from my hand and takes a sip. She dips her tongue out to swipe away the excess liquid and I groan as my dick strains against the zipper of my pants.

“Thank you. I didn’t know you could get non-alcoholic champagne.” She takes another sip and I motion for her to have a seat on the blanket. Once she’s comfortable with her legs tucked under her, I join her and sit as close as I can.

“Technically it can’t be called champagne. There’s a legal reason for it, but I won’t bore you with that. This is a French Bloom La Cuvee 2022. It’s a sparkling chardonnay, but it’s made in the same style and is backed by the exquisite expertise of the renowned French winemakers, Taittinger.” I finish my sentence to find her looking amused and suppressing a laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re a wine snob. Who would’ve thunk it.” She falls into a fit of giggles as I narrow my eyes at her, mumble, “Brat,” under my breath, and take a sip of my drink.

“So what time does your conference call start?” There’s a cheeky grin on her lips. I don’t answer, just reach for her foot and slip her heel off. “What are you do… oh my God.” A loud groan takes her from her sentence as I dig my thumb into the arch of her foot.

“Normally I’d be punishing your mouth for being so snarky, but I’ve missed your body too much and can’t wait to have my hands all over it, so today I’ll let the sass slide. Tomorrow is a whole other story though.”

She’s barely listening to me, too swept up in the pleasure my hands are creating on her foot. She leans back on her elbows and lets her head fall backwards. The sight is beautiful. Her lips are parted slightly, her hair tumbling behind her. Her beautiful tits are pressed toward me as she arches her back, the buttons of her white shirt straining against the fabric, begging me to undo the constraints and swipe my tongue over them. My mouth waters at the idea, and I have to concentrate to keep myself from lunging on top of her. Patience.

The last time we had sex, it was hard and fast. This time, I want it to be slow and agonisingly pleasurable. I want every part of her body to be licked, bitten, or fucked by me. I want her skin glowing with pleasure and sweat, and her unable to recall her own name when I’m done with her.

I let my fingers stroke higher on her leg, her calf muscles relaxing under my ministrations. She moans when I stop, and a small chuckle escapes from me.

“I’m just removing your other shoe so I can repeat the process, Little One. I take it you’re enjoying yourself?” She sighs and takes another sip of her drink before lowering herself to lay fully on the blanket.

“Very much so. But I feel like the view could be better. It has way too many clothes on for my liking.” She lets her gaze roam over my body and bites on her lip when she spots my growing length, which just got harder under her gaze. Dropping her feet from my lap, I kneel and unravel my tie, undo my buttons, and whip my shirt off. “Much better.”

Her exclamation comes with widened eyes that have darkened with lust, and again I have to fight the urge to not just sink inside her. She lifts her foot and lets her painted toes run over my abs, and the sensation sends ripples through me. I grab her foot and pull it away from my skin as she pouts up at me.

“I’m the one doing the touching, Penelope. Remember the rules or I’ll tie your hands and feet up.”

“Promises, promises.” The grin she gives me is obscene, but I fucking love it.

I run my hands up to her thighs, bunching her skirt as I go, and let them trail against her soft skin. She sighs in contentment and squirms when my fingertips ghost over the black lace covering her mound.

“So impatient, Little One. What is it you’re waiting for?” My voice is gravelly, filled with lust and appreciation of her form.

“I’m waiting for you. Please, Ben.”

She knows what my name on her lips does to me, but I can’t give her what she wants yet and stop touching her altogether.

“Why?” Her voice displays her shock and I chuckle at her reaction.

“Take your clothes off. I want you naked so I can run my fingers all over you. I want to drag my tongue over every inch of your skin before I fuck you, Little One. Is that what you want?”

Her lip slips between her teeth and she nods as she sits up. Her hands tug at the hem of her top and pull it over her head, leaving her in a sheer black bra, and my mouth waters. “Fuck, Penelope. You’re gorgeous.”

She smiles a little nervously and then scoots her arse so she can remove the bunched up skirt from her hips. She stands up, removes her bra, slides her knickers seductively down her legs, and kicks them off her ankles. She’s about to sit back down, but my hand reaches out to stroke the tender flesh on her stomach and she freezes.

“Stay like this.”

Her hands fall to my shoulders as my lips take over from my fingers. She shivers under my touch and I grin against her skin. She’s so receptive to my touch. It’s like having a blank canvas. Every touch creates a new reaction, a new sound, a new memory to lock away for when she decides she's had enough.

Lifting off my haunches but remaining on my knees brings me level with her pert nipples. The rose coloured buds are stiff and straining to get to me. I gently blow on them and she arches her back so they’re even closer to my lips. Rather than giving her what she wants, I let my tongue swirl around them, her little gasps and moans driving me mad. Her hands snake up into my hair, her nails scraping against my scalp, making my restraint slip.

I pull her nipple into my mouth, sucking deeply. Her cry of pleasure is enough reward for me, but I’m greedy, so I swap sides and repeat it to hear it again. I drag my fingers down her back, letting the pressure build until I reach her cheeks and massage them. She pushes herself against me and the scent of her arousal floods my nose.

She parts her legs instinctively, ready for my touch, but I lean away from her and watch as the confusion swarms her features. “Little One, I’m starving. I didn’t eat dinner, after all.”

Her eyes are struggling to focus, but she nods and motions over to the picnic basket with her head as I laugh softly.

“What I’m hungry for isn’t in that basket.” She tilts her head to the side and watches me hungrily. “When I lie down, I want you to take a seat on my face and let me feast on your pussy. Can you do that, Penelope?”

Her hair is tousled, her eyes dark and greedy, and she’s panting at the idea of it. “I’ve never…done that before.”

The nervous inflection in her voice is chased away by the promise in my eyes as I lower myself onto my back. “That’s even better.”

The idea of me giving her another first is screaming to my inner caveman, and I can’t deny that I’m more excited about this than actually fucking her again.

“Kneel on either side of my head, lower yourself onto my face, and enjoy, Vasilissa mou. ”

Her eyes lock on mine and an almost feral look takes over them. She doesn’t know what I’m saying, but she likes hearing it.

She kneels over me and hovers over my mouth. This won’t do. “I told you to sit on my face, Little One. I want to be surrounded by you. I want to smell you, taste you, feel you, till the point I’m drowning in you. Give me what I want, Penelope.”

She cries out as she lowers herself fully onto me, and as the first burst of her flavour lands on my tongue, I know I’m done for. This woman is mine, forever, no question about it.