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Reaching around her, I push my fingers against her lips. “Suck,” I order.
Her lips immediately part, and I push two fingers into her mouth, rubbing them against her tongue and covering them in her saliva.
Pulling them from her mouth, I sit back on my heels and rub my wet fingers against her slit. She doesn’t need the added lubricant; her pussy is dripping with arousal. Finding her clit, I rub the bundle of nerves, then roll it between my fingers before pulling back and toying with her entrance.
Pushing just the tips of my two fingers inside, I watch the way her pussy opens for me. When I don’t move, she moans, pushing her ass back and bearing down on my fingers until they sink further into her cunt.
“Do you need my fingers, Princess? Do you want me to finger fuck you until you scream?” I growl.
“Yes, god, please, yes.”
Smiling to myself, I thrust my fingers in all the way to the knuckle, immediately pulling out, then thrusting back in. Pumping my fingers in and out of her cunt, I don’t stop until her moans start to crescendo, then I rip my fingers out of her and replace them with my cock.
Her shocked, outraged cry is drowned out by the sound of the blood pumping in my ears. Holding her hips still, I fuck her with brutal intensity, slamming into her cunt and branding her, claiming her and making her indisputably mine.
In this moment, I don’t care that she’ll undoubtedly wear my marks on her body, I don’t care that someone could hear her panting my name and begging for more. I don’t care that I’m fucking her on the dusty floor of an unused room.
None of that matters. All that matters right now is that she knows she’s mine. When she comes on my cock with a strangled cry, I fuck my cum into her, forcing it as deep inside her as I can reach, because if I have to reassure her a thousand times a day, I’ll do it to make sure that she never questions that what we have is real ever again.
Reluctantly sliding my dick out of her, I pull her up to sit sideways in my lap. Dragging her panties down her legs, I unhook them from her shoes and tuck them into my blazer pocket.
“Really?” she asks, her voice ragged.
“Oh yeah.” I laugh, hooking her chin with my finger and pulling her in for a kiss.
Once we both fall silent, I sigh and press a soft kiss to the top of her head. Fucking her is never a hardship, but knowing that she was so desperate to feel our connection because she doubted we were real makes me feel sick to my stomach.
Her parents and the life she’s lived for the last four years have done so much damage that I’m not sure she’ll ever truly move past the trauma. I’ve felt the tension and anxiety building in her day after day since the party. I know she’s waiting for her parents to strike. Penelope wanted to get revenge, but now I’m starting to worry it’s causing her more pain than any satisfaction she might gain from it.
I’ve never felt hate like I do for her parents, but I don’t want to fuck Penelope up any more than she already is by trying to inflict damage on people who seem oblivious to pain. Any other parent would be wounded by their children’s hate, but Trudy and Barnaby really just don’t seem to care.
I’m sure they’re embarrassed, possibly inconvenienced, but I don’t think there’s anything we can really do that will cause them any actual pain, because I don’t think they’re capable of feeling any real emotions beyond anger and hate.
My Princess already stole her inheritance from them, and honestly, I think that might have been the worst thing that could possibly happen to them. I want her to get her revenge, I want them to hurt because of her. I just don’t want Penelope to feel like she failed if it doesn’t happen.
“Come on, Princess,” I say, lifting her up from the floor and holding out a hand for her to take. She lays her palm against mine, and I pull her into my arms and hold her close, hugging her, trying to tell her silently how real this is and how much I’m hers.
After a long moment, she loosens her grip, and I reluctantly let her go, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before I exhale and take her hand, leading her to the door. “We should get back to class.”
Nodding, she smiles tiredly at me, love and trust and so many more emotions staring back at me from her beautiful blue eyes. My fiancée is nothing like the Penelope I thought I knew—the Penelope I’d presumed I understood. I couldn’t have been more wrong about her, and in the last few months, she’s proved without a doubt that she’s nothing at all like her parents.
I think sometimes she forgets how much strength it took to walk away from a fortune, but she did it. She gave up everything to save herself, to save her sister, and to not end up like her mom and dad. Pulling her through the door, I turn and lock it behind us, then back her up against it and cage her with my body.
“You’re mine, Princess, and I’m a lucky motherfucker, so don’t let me forget it.”
Her giggle is high and tinkling, and I fucking love it. My dick hardens, and all I want to do is unlock the door and take her back inside and lose myself in her body, but I don’t. Instead, I swallow down my groan and lead her to class, knowing that later I can take her home to the bed we share and spend all night showing her over and over just how real we are.
* * *
“Just call me the motherfucking king of the world,” Davis announces as he strolls off the deck and in through the door. There’s a swagger in his step as he slaps down some papers onto the coffee table, then throws himself down onto the couch, a smug grin etched across his face.
“I take it you got the shares?” Gulliver asks dryly.
“I got the motherfucking shares,” Davis declares.
“Did you have to do anything that involved his dick?” Penelope asks, cringing.
“No.” Davis laughs. “Although he did offer to sell them to me for half price if I sucked him off.”
