your screams against my palm as you came around my cock.”
She jerked back. “That’s déclassé, even for you.”
“You didn’t think it was déclassé when I was inside you.”
Penelope shook her head. “As delightful as this has been, I think it’s more than clear that we shouldn’t spend time together outside of our arrangement.” She moved to stand.
“Sit.”
She dropped back into her chair, glaring daggers. “What do you want, Will?”
That was the question of the hour. He almost wished he’d never made this bet because it’d changed things, even if he still wasn’t sure what was altered. All he knew was that, for the first time in years, he found himself looking forward to something besides closing an account and turning a business from a money pit into a success. It had to be the challenge Penelope presented that made him feel like this, because no other explanation made sense. He wanted to bend her to his will, to show her that if she’d simply stop fighting him for a while, he’d give her everything she ever wanted and more. He wanted control .
At the same time, he enjoyed Penelope’s defiance.
“Order, pet. You’re not leaving until we’ve finished dinner.”
“You, Sir , are an ass.”
“So I’ve been told.” He motioned to her menu, and waited for her to pick it up before he did the same. He’d been there enough times to know what he wanted, so he merely watched Penelope. She had been the bane of his professional existence for so long that it was strange to be sitting across the table from her. But now the memories of his various defeats were mingled with the events of the last three days. Her, naked but for her garters, bent over the spanking bench. Or spread for him on her desk, her body shuddering as he brought her to orgasm. He licked his lips, half sure he could still taste her there.
Perhaps she was right. They obviously fit well enough in the bedroom. Why was he pushing this dinner?
Even as he asked the question, he knew the answer. He needed distance. It seemed like every time he touched her, he lost a little more of his hard-won control. By forcing them to spend nonsexual time together, he was effectively reinforcing the truth—he didn’t feel anything other than agitation for her outside the bedroom, and never would.
The waiter appeared and took their orders, but was gone before he could be an effective distraction. Then it was just Will and Penelope again, staring across the table at each other. He asked, “How did your family end up here?”
Her eyebrows inched up. “Well, I suppose the same way other black folks—”
“Christ, Penelope, that’s not what I meant and you know it. You have a Georgian accent and you live in New York. Obviously you grew up in the South, so what brought your family north?”
“Why are we doing this? You don’t really care about the answer.” She picked up her wine glass. “Is this the punishment you were too distracted to give me yesterday?”
She thought spending time with him was a punishment. He shouldn’t be surprised. Hadn’t he just been thinking that they could barely stand each other? But some nameless emotion wormed through him, making him frown. “Answer the question.”
She sighed. “I was born in Savannah, and we lived there until I was ten. Around then, my grandfather decided he was ready to retire and pass the family business on to my father. So we relocated.” A shadow flickered through her eyes, but she banished it almost immediately.
He wanted to know what caused that shadow. “Do you ever think about going back?”
“Trying to get rid of the competition?” She gave a mirthless smile. “No. There’s nothing for me in Savannah.”
Her tone seemed to indicate that there was something in Savannah—something she’d rather avoid. “So your father took over the business.” He hadn’t had much interaction with any Carson other than Penelope, and he was suddenly curious as to what kind of
She jerked back. “That’s déclassé, even for you.”
“You didn’t think it was déclassé when I was inside you.”
Penelope shook her head. “As delightful as this has been, I think it’s more than clear that we shouldn’t spend time together outside of our arrangement.” She moved to stand.
“Sit.”
She dropped back into her chair, glaring daggers. “What do you want, Will?”
That was the question of the hour. He almost wished he’d never made this bet because it’d changed things, even if he still wasn’t sure what was altered. All he knew was that, for the first time in years, he found himself looking forward to something besides closing an account and turning a business from a money pit into a success. It had to be the challenge Penelope presented that made him feel like this, because no other explanation made sense. He wanted to bend her to his will, to show her that if she’d simply stop fighting him for a while, he’d give her everything she ever wanted and more. He wanted control .
At the same time, he enjoyed Penelope’s defiance.
“Order, pet. You’re not leaving until we’ve finished dinner.”
“You, Sir , are an ass.”
“So I’ve been told.” He motioned to her menu, and waited for her to pick it up before he did the same. He’d been there enough times to know what he wanted, so he merely watched Penelope. She had been the bane of his professional existence for so long that it was strange to be sitting across the table from her. But now the memories of his various defeats were mingled with the events of the last three days. Her, naked but for her garters, bent over the spanking bench. Or spread for him on her desk, her body shuddering as he brought her to orgasm. He licked his lips, half sure he could still taste her there.
Perhaps she was right. They obviously fit well enough in the bedroom. Why was he pushing this dinner?
Even as he asked the question, he knew the answer. He needed distance. It seemed like every time he touched her, he lost a little more of his hard-won control. By forcing them to spend nonsexual time together, he was effectively reinforcing the truth—he didn’t feel anything other than agitation for her outside the bedroom, and never would.
The waiter appeared and took their orders, but was gone before he could be an effective distraction. Then it was just Will and Penelope again, staring across the table at each other. He asked, “How did your family end up here?”
Her eyebrows inched up. “Well, I suppose the same way other black folks—”
“Christ, Penelope, that’s not what I meant and you know it. You have a Georgian accent and you live in New York. Obviously you grew up in the South, so what brought your family north?”
“Why are we doing this? You don’t really care about the answer.” She picked up her wine glass. “Is this the punishment you were too distracted to give me yesterday?”
She thought spending time with him was a punishment. He shouldn’t be surprised. Hadn’t he just been thinking that they could barely stand each other? But some nameless emotion wormed through him, making him frown. “Answer the question.”
She sighed. “I was born in Savannah, and we lived there until I was ten. Around then, my grandfather decided he was ready to retire and pass the family business on to my father. So we relocated.” A shadow flickered through her eyes, but she banished it almost immediately.
He wanted to know what caused that shadow. “Do you ever think about going back?”
“Trying to get rid of the competition?” She gave a mirthless smile. “No. There’s nothing for me in Savannah.”
Her tone seemed to indicate that there was something in Savannah—something she’d rather avoid. “So your father took over the business.” He hadn’t had much interaction with any Carson other than Penelope, and he was suddenly curious as to what kind of
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