She gave him a sexy smile. “You’re fun to play with.”
“You’re damn good at playing.”
That smile only burned hotter as she stroked him. He had never recalled a day in his life when a hand job did anything for him but finish the job when he needed to finish. She stared right at him and then dropped some saliva onto his cock to stroke him again. The pleasure was enough to make him damn near cross-eyed. And when that pleasure began to steal his control, he shifted to gather her in his arms.
She pressed against his chest. “You stay right there.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Is that how we’re playing this?”
“Yes, Mr. Officer.” She grinned, ripping open the wrapper, and sheathed him, slowly dragging the latex over his stretched skin. When she climbed farther up his body, she kissed his stomach, then his chest, and he wasn’t even sure he was breathing anymore. She slid her mouth over his neck, and then she lowered onto him in the same second, taking him deep inside her as she whispered, “God, you feel so amazing.”
He grunted his answer, dropping his hands onto her hips as she slowly worked herself over him. Up and down, she rode him, her hands coming to his face as she kissed him. The woman knew what she was doing, and his mind began to fade as she moved away from his mouth to sit straighter and began thrusting her hips back and forth until she was grinding against him.
Fuck. She was sexy.
Her tits were bouncing. Her hips moving fast, claiming her pleasure, and damn, did she claim his too.
She dropped her head, her long hair tickling his chest as she worked her hips, harder and faster. He gripped her waist, helping her gain speed, feeling her inner muscles squeezing at him, telling him she was going to get there.
He needed her to get there. Because he was getting there too. His cock ached to blow with every perfect squeeze of her sweet pussy. She looked too good. She smelled too good. She felt so fucking incredible. His eyes pinched shut and heat roared up his spine when she fell into her climax, writhing atop him. He roared his pleasure, lifting her hips, and pumped into her from underneath.
The world faded away except for the darkness and the strain of his body, until the pulsating pleasure washed over him.
Sometime later, in the darkness of his bedroom, Penelope’s soft voice pulled him back to her. “I have a strange admission to make,” she said, breathless.
She lay atop him, dead weight, her soft breasts pressing against his rising and falling chest. He slid his hand up her damp back. “What’s that?”
She lifted up to look him in the eye, looking messy and perfect all at the same time. “I don’t regret for one second that you found me last night skating on the fountain in my high heels.”
He chuckled and kissed her. “Neither do I.”
Chapter Four
Was a drive of shame worse than a walk of shame?
Penelope contemplated that very thought on the drive to her cousins’ house the following morning, with a fresh baked apple pie resting on her lap that they’d grabbed on the drive over. The aroma of sugar and cinnamon filled Darryl’s cruiser, as the warmth rested against her thighs. Snow drifts hugged the road and the sun glistened off the bright white snow as far as the eye could see. Darryl sat next to her, playing the part of hot cop in his uniform with his dark navy-blue winter coat, one hand slung over the top of the steering wheel, taking the roads slow and easy. Tyson slept on the back seat, sprawled out like the holidays had already begun, and he’d eaten far too much. And Ebenezer stayed out of her way after their first introduction but scowled all the same on her way out the door.
All in all, her body was tender in all the right places, her chest lighter than it had been in months. And fate had given her Darryl back for a little longer to finish the fantasy that had begun with that one hot kiss by the lake.
Maybe Christmas wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
Darryl pulled his cruiser into the long driveway, hugged by evergreens that painted a pretty snowy picture this morning, and Penelope decided any type of shame didn’t leave her in the best light. The driveway ended at a big, white, colonial-style house with the black barn now turned into a brewery off to the right. Cars lined the small parking lot off to the left, not really a surprise being Saturday morning. Three Chicks Brewery was part of the brewery tour put on by local tour companies for vacationers. The middle Carter sister, Amelia, was heading into the barn with the morning tour, wearing jeans and fluffy boots.
Right as Darryl pulled his cruiser to a stop, his cell phone rang, and he grabbed it from the cup holder. “Wilson,” he answered. A pause. “Yes, sir.” A pause then his gaze flicked to Penelope. “Yeah, I’ve got an idea on that.” Another pause. “Shouldn’t be a problem.” Another pause. “Thank you, sir.”
When Darryl ended the call, Penelope had a bad feeling “That call was about me, wasn’t it?” she asked.
Darryl placed his cell back into the cup holder. “Yup, and you’re going to be my elf.”
She paused, waiting for him to correct himself. When he didn’t, she guffawed. “I’m going to be your what?”
“My elf,” he repeated easily with a sexy smile that made her belly flip-flop. “That was my captain. The video of your late-night skating has been uploaded to YouTube, so apparently, I need to handle this matter.”
She felt the widening of her eyes. “And how does one exactly handle me?”
He leaned forward a little, deepened his voice, and his tone turned sultry. “Now, Penelope, I would think by the three times last night and twice this morning, you would know exactly how I handle you.”
Damn, her nipples tightened. Breath hitched. Lower half warmed and dampened. Yeah, apparently her body was well aware of all Darryl could do. “That’s not what I meant,” she said anyway. “What exactly did your captain mean?”