Dungeon Royale (Masters and Mercenaries) (15 page)

He closed his eyes and sighed. “I did, too.”

Silence stretched out between them, but it was strangely comfortable. She let herself relax again. “When did I end up here?”

His chest moved as he breathed, and she found herself breathing in time to him. Her heart seemed to synch as well. “After you fell asleep. You tried to take all the blankets. I had to let you close to me just to stay warm.”

“I’m not used to sleeping with someone.” She let her eyes drift up.

Morning light softened him, making the gray of his eyes seem almost blue as they opened and he looked down at her. “The walking corpse never slept over?”

She stifled a laugh. Damon had a way with words, especially when he was insulting someone. He and his friend Ian had insulted each other all night. She might never understand men. “That’s a horrible thing to call him.”

Damon smiled a little. “Peter never slept over?”

“He said he slept better alone. He tried once but I snored and he left.” That was a terrible thought. “Did I keep you up?”

“With your little snuffles? No. He was an idiot, love.” He laid his hand over hers and took a long breath, seeming to settle back in. “I liked sleeping with you. I haven’t slept with anyone in a very long time. In fact, there hasn’t been anyone at all.”

That was a bit hard for her to believe. “Anyone?”

“I haven’t actually had sex since the shooting. I was worried the damn thing wouldn’t work, but I think it’s safe to say it’s waking up again.” His voice got serious. “I liked it. Last night, that is. I liked holding you. I liked how we kept each other warm. Kiss me, Penelope.”

“Damon.” It was a bad idea.

“You can’t even kiss me? We’re going to struggle on the boat if you won’t kiss me.”

He was right about that. She pushed herself up and looked down at him. He was a deliciously gorgeous beast of a man, every inch of him muscled and lean. His hair had lost its former perfection and a lock of black silk lay across his forehead.

What was she really afraid of? She was afraid of losing herself in him and then being utterly adrift when everything was over. She was afraid of not coming out on the other side of the affair with a whole heart, but she had agreed to this. She’d said yes, and that meant being braver than the old Penny. The old Penny never woke up warm and cradled against a man. The old Penny had accepted far less than was her due.

The old Penny would have given this man a peck and then run away. She didn’t want to be the old Penny any longer.

She reached out and touched him, her fingers on his face. Maybe she was looking at everything wrong. Maybe instead of holding back, she should take every moment and revel in it. He looked at her solemnly as she brushed her fingertips along his jawline, his whiskers tickling against her skin. She studied him, taking her time to memorize the way he looked. A sharp blade of a nose. Sensual lips.

He didn’t move, didn’t say a word, simply allowed her to explore, though she could feel the tension in him. Was he truly afraid she wouldn’t kiss him? Could a man like him really want her?

She couldn’t know if she never tried. This wasn’t a problem she could logic her way out of. She had to feel her way through it.

She let her lips find his skin, first his cheek and then along his jaw. She placed a kiss on his nose and one between his eyes. She smoothed back his hair.

“Penelope, I don’t want you to treat me like a boy you’re trying to soothe.”

She wasn’t going to let him rush her. “Hush, Damon. I’m enjoying this.”

His eyes flared slightly. “When we’re on a proper footing, I’ll spank you for that.”

Yes, she thought he’d do a lot of things when they were on “a proper footing.” It was why she had to enjoy the time she had with him now. “Because I’m a brat?”

She’d read the term, heard Ian complain about his wife being one. Of course, he’d said it all while petting her and holding her.

Those delicious lips curled up in a sexy grin. “I think you could be a spectacular brat, love. If you wanted to.”

She wanted to. All her life she’d been the perfect daughter, the one who got good grades and did her duty. Had she ever really grown out of the role and tried being a woman? She brushed her mouth across his forehead and then finally let her lips find his own. Warm, soft, but so firm. He let her have her way, allowing her to play along his skin.

Emboldened, she let her hand drift down, caressing the strong column of his neck and making her way to his shoulders and chest. A light dusting of hair covered his torso, making a neat triangle toward his abs. She traced the flat discs of his nipples, watching them peak the minute she got close. She let her hand move lower to his lean stomach. He twitched under her fingertips. The blanket covered him from his hips down, but it tented, his cock stretching the material up.

“Yes, that’s what you do to me.” His hands were fisting the sheet underneath him as though he had to hold on or he would reach for her and take over. “Seven months without a whisper and now he wants to play.”

He was giving her a gift, allowing her control when he needed it himself. He strained under her hands, his hips lifting when she got close.

This was why she was afraid. Because she didn’t want to stop with kisses. She wouldn’t want to stop at the end of the mission. She might never want to stop exploring Damon Knight.

“Give me more,” he demanded. “Kiss me. Use your tongue. Please, pet. I want it.”

She knew she should stop, but she couldn’t turn down his plea. There was a desperate quality to his tone that made her feel sexy, desirable. Maybe he was manipulating her, but he couldn’t fake the erection. It was difficult to believe that she was the cause, but the evidence was staring her in the face.

She lowered her head back to his and let her tongue run across his plump bottom lip, feeling her power when he shivered beneath her.

More. She wanted more. Her body was starting to sing in the way it only ever had for him. Her pussy softened, starting to pulse and get wet. She couldn’t deny it. Damon was her weakness, her odd joy, the one man who could bring her out of herself and into the world. She didn’t even want to deny it or him.

She let her tongue surge in, rubbing against his. Never before had she been so brazen, so bold, but then she hadn’t ever wanted anyone the way she did Damon.

They kissed, his tongue playing along hers, making her heart beat in a rapid rhythm. Alive. Maybe it was a farce on his part, but it was real for her, and she couldn’t let it rush by without reveling in it. Without saying yes to it.

“Let me take over,” Damon whispered, his deep voice pure seduction. “I can make it so good for you. We could be good together. So fucking good. Touch me. Touch my cock. Stroke me.”

She wanted to see it again, loved looking at him. One last kiss on his lips and she forced herself up.

“Damn it.”

She ignored him and pulled at the sheet, tugging it down. He hissed a little as his cock was exposed, but she couldn’t miss the satisfied smile on his face. He pressed his hips up, squirming a bit, like she had in the bathroom at her cousin’s wedding. Her first real orgasm. He’d given that to her. Didn’t she owe him something?

A gasp came out of her mouth as she really caught sight of his cock for the first time. Never before had she had the time to look at her lover. Peter had wanted the lights off and to get it done fairly quickly, but Damon seemed to want to take his time, to revel in it, to treat it like a leisure activity he never wanted to finish up.

His cock was a thing of beauty. Long and thick. There was a drop of pearly liquid seeping from the tiny slit on the tip of his dick. His hips were lean, with lovely notches that proved just how much he liked to work out.

“Do you like what you see?” His voice was low, a hard groan coming out of his mouth.

“You know how beautiful you are.” He had to. She was sure a thousand women had told him.

His hand came out, touching a place just below his heart. “I know I’m scarred.”

There was a red puckered place right below his heart, to the left of his breast bone. It was a nasty scar, the one that might still cost him his career. That mark was the reason he couldn’t run the way he used to, couldn’t perform in the field. He should have had a few more years, but the injury had aged him.

It hadn’t made him any less desirable. His flaws did nothing but make him more open, easier to get close to. She forced herself to look away from his cock. It was beautiful, but he was more than a hot cock. He was a man who’d been hurt, who had the same strengths and weaknesses as everyone else, who needed more than just sex even if he wouldn’t admit it.

She ran her fingers across his scar. He’d almost died. She couldn’t imagine what he’d gone through. His best mate had walked in and calmly put a bullet in him. He’d been forced to endure months and months of trying to get back to normal. Everything that made up Damon Knight had been put in jeopardy. She couldn’t help but think about the picture in his office. That smiling boy and parents who loved him. He’d lost them so young. He’d been alone in the world. Only a child, but orphaned.

When her mother had died, she’d felt her aloneness and she’d been an adult. Her entire body had ached with the loss, but he’d been truly alone, a child with no one to care for him.

Then he’d opened up and his best mate had betrayed him brutally, the evidence right beneath her fingers.

Damon needed to be healed. Not from his physical ailments, but from the wounds that came from the ones he loved always leaving him.

She leaned over and pressed her lips to his scar. There was a line that moved in and out of the circle. His surgery. Someone had saved his life. Someone had pulled the bullet out of him so he could be with her right now, in this moment.

Her tongue came out to trace the scar. That scar was important. It meant he was alive. It meant he was here.

His hand sank into her hair. He held her hard against his skin. “God, keep your mouth on me. Penelope, I need it. I know you don’t believe me, but I want you. I want everything you have to give me.”

Though it was so dumb, she licked the scar, trailing over to his nipple and then giving him a baby bite.

Damon hissed and the hand in her hair tightened. “Yes, that’s what I want. I want Penelope Cash’s bad girl. I want her to fuck my cock. I want her to crave me.”

She already craved him. Bad girl. Good girl. Everything Penelope Cash was wanted Damon Knight.

He was laid out for her, his big body a feast for her senses. He released his hold on her hair, giving her some freedom to explore. She let her palms roam across his chest as she kissed her way down. He’d given her something the day before. He’d taught her that she wasn’t cold or frigid, that sex could be good with the right partner. She wanted to return the favor.

There were a million reasons why it was a bad idea and only one reason to keep going—because she wanted to. In the moment, that was all that mattered.

“I’m trying to be very good,” Damon said, his hands clutching the sheets. “It’s difficult for me not to take over. So give me something. Take off that ridiculous shirt and let me see your breasts. I won’t let you hide from me.”

He’d touched her and played with her, but he hadn’t seen her yet.

“Don’t,” he growled. “Don’t tense up on me. I want to see you.”

“I don’t look like you, Damon.” She was overweight, a bit saggy. He was masculine perfection, and she wasn’t anywhere close to him.

“Thank god for that. I don’t want you to look like me. I’m not into men.”

So frustrating. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

His eyes narrowed. “Then perhaps you should tell me what you meant.”

She had the sudden fear that he wouldn’t like her explaining all the ways she didn’t measure up. He hadn’t liked other people talking bad about her. He wouldn’t like her talking about herself in a derogatory fashion either. And he seemed to be looking for a reason to punish her. There was only one clear way out of the situation.

She sat up, making her decision. Before she could really think about it, she pulled the shirt over her head and let it fall to the bed beside her. She wasn’t wearing underwear since he hadn’t seen fit to provide her with any. Penny sat, kneeling over him, waiting for him to say something.

A slow smile curled his lips up, making him look like a lazy pasha whose meal had been brought to him on a silver platter. “What made you change your mind?”

She bit her bottom lip and decided to tell him the truth. This relationship they were pretending to have was all about trust and honesty. “Well, I decided that if I told you what was going through my head, you would very likely get angry with me. You would have spanked me and then still ordered me to undress, so the argument wouldn’t have gotten me anything but a sore bum. I decided to skip it and do as you asked.”

Pure pleasure was in his grin. “Such a smart girl. We’ll get along well, you and I. And, god, your tits are gorgeous. Look at that. Spread your legs. Let me see your pussy.”

She could see he wasn’t going to be easy to please. He would demand everything from her, but he’d done nothing to make her think he would hurt her. He’d only given her pleasure in moments like these, only praised her. She shifted, moving her knees apart so he could see her.

“Do you always shave?” His voice had gotten deeper, darker.

She shook her head. “No. It’s my first time. I did it on Saturday night.”

“After you said yes to me.” He turned on his side, obviously comfortable with his nudity. “Did you think about me when you were shaving?”

More honesty. “Yes.”

“Did you want to please me? Did you shave your pussy thinking it would please your Master?”

She’d done it for several reasons. “I read that many submissives keep to a grooming routine. And yes, I did think about you while I was doing it. I wanted to know what it felt like. I don’t pay much attention to that part of my body.”

She’d stood in the shower, hot water running over her as she carefully shaved herself and wondered, hoped and prayed even, that she could figure out why a pussy seemed to be the center of so many women’s lives.