Page 55 of Spoil
Sliding my fingers between hers, I hold her hand and mentally will her to understand what my heart is screaming: she belongs with me.
Chapter twenty-seven
Penelope
Daniel tugs me into his room and shuts the door behind us before setting up the monitor receiver on one of the nightstands. I love how careful and how thoughtful he is with Danny and her needs. It took me a while to mentally loosen the reins and get comfortable passing off some of the parental load I’ve carried Danny’s entire life. But after seeing them together these past few months - how caring, kind, and thoughtful he is, and how much Danny adores him, I’m no longer worried.
When he turns to me, though, the hours of teasing touches and heated glances have my panties dampening and my chest heaving. My nipples tighten, and my eyes drop to them.
“Go stand in front of the mirror,” he commands, his voice low, serious, leaving no room for debate.
He has a large, gold-framed mirror that rests on the floor next to the fireplace in his room. So, I go and stand in front of it.
“Strip.”
I drag the side zipper of my dress down and shrug out of it, letting it pool on the floor at my feet.
But instead of looking at myself in the mirror, I’m looking at his reflection over my shoulder.
I watch as he steps in behind me, unbuttoning his shirt. When he lets it fall to the floor, I can feel his body heat at my back. He kisses my jaw, behind my ear, and down my neck as he undoes my bra.
“Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he mumbles against my skin.
I don’t know if it was the wine, the conversation, the developing friendships, or his touches all night, but my skin is buzzing with a warm sensation. I let my eyes drift closed as he drags each of the straps off of my shoulders and lets my bra join my dress on the floor.
Delirious with warmth and lust, I let my head drop back against his shoulder and lean back on him - trusting him fully to take care of me.
He drags his fingertips just under my breasts, over my stomach, up my sternum and around my throat, ratcheting up the pressure between my legs. I squeeze my thighs together with a frustrated moan.
He kneels in front of me, and instinctively my hand comes to his cheek. The image before me is heady. This powerful, gorgeous man, his defined shoulders and chest on display for me, kneeling on the floor, his hands wrapped around my naked thighs as he looks up at me with those gorgeous, intoxicating brown eyes.
And then he does the most erotic thing that’s ever happened to me. With his hands gripping my ass and thighs, he drags me to him, loops his tongue under my underwear at my hip and bites the fabric in his teeth.
His eyes never leave mine as he drags my underwear down my legs. Once he’s past my knees, I rest a hand on his shoulder for balance and step out of them. Then the image of Daniel, on hisknees, powerful as he is, grinning, with my underwear between his teeth, sends a bolt of lust through my veins and a shiver up my spine. I don’t even try to hide how much he affects me.
He takes my undies and shoves them in the front pocket of his slacks before standing and coming to my back again.
“Look at you,” he whispers, nodding towards the mirror.
I’m not insecure about my looks, but it’s been a really long time since I’ve cared, or even really looked in a mirror. I’ve been living in survival mode for so long, and Danny never cared about how I looked. I certainly wasn’t concerned about attracting male attention, or even in the mind-space to put myself and my self-respect first.
But standing here tonight, I let myself look.
I look... okay. Maybe a tad too thin. I did swipe on some mascara and lip gloss when we were getting ready for dinner tonight, but that’s mostly gone. My stomach’s soft from pregnancy, my hips rounder than before, my breasts and little saggier, but I like the way I look.
I really like the way I look next to Daniel, and his miles of tanned skin, muscles, and the goofy grin he’s wearing. It excites me and makes me feel alive in ways I haven’t felt since that night with him all those years ago.
“Are you tired, sweetheart?” he asks, retreating, and I frown at the loss of him.
Eager for more of his touches, I shake my head. “No.”
And then, in the mirror, I watch as he reaches into the nightstand and pulls out a bright pink wand. My eyes widen in alarm. I haven’t played with a vibrator since probably my early twenties, and it was the last thing I was expecting him to pull out.
“Don’t move,” he instructs, as he twists the base, and a low buzzing sound fills the room, along with my pounding heart.
He steps up behind me again, wrapping one arm around my waist and pulling me back against him again. I close my eyes again, ready for whatever he’s going to do to me. I jump, though, when the vibrator touches just above my belly button. Ever so slowly he drags it up, around my breasts in circles, each pass getting closer and closer to my nipple. When the vibrator finally caresses my nipple, I break out in goosebumps. I’m hot and cold all at the same time, and my core aches.
He repeats the motions for so long I get dizzy and lose any sense of reality. He repeats the motions until it’s almost painful.
