|Penny's From Heaven
Author: Child of Loki PM
Sort of an epilogue to 'Doesn't that just suckubus' Declan just doesn't understand Miss Penny Hayes... Declan/OC SMUTRated: Fiction M - English - Declan M. - Words: 2,871 - Published: 03-02-12 - id: 7889827
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Author's Note: Look what I found amongst my old writings… a smutty epilogue (?) for my other fic, Doesn't that just succubus? and possibly a prologue to another fic…
WARNING: CONTAINS MATURE SUBJECT MATTER
Since their return to London, Penny had showed no sign of her previous affection, displayed no gentleness or sincerity of feeling towards Declan Macrae. Gone was that tenderness she possessed when she slept with her body curled about him. It had been a most satisfying cuddle, and Declan was rather disappointed with the reappearance of this austere Miss Hayes. Even more frustrating, perhaps, were those brief flashes of warmth he found when their eyes met accidentally, as well as those times when they met purposefully (he'd like to think).
He had asked her to meet him in his rooms. It was time to settle this. She sat down beside him on the sofa as prim and proper as ever, an awkwardness permeating the air between them. The silence was an immense pressure, but Declan could not seem to find the words. He began to despair of ever resolving whatever tension lay between them.
That was, until her hand gracefully and subtly found its way to rest upon his knee. Taken by surprise, he still could not conjure the appropriate words. Very collectedly, she sat in her normal reserved posture even as her hand slid slowly up his thigh. He simply stared at the delicate fingers wrapped firmly about his leg, those bloody gorgeous fingers threatening to undo him with each minute advance they made. He wanted to touch her so very much, but like a skittish animal, he feared she would bolt if he made any sudden movements.
Then he remembered that one mad girlfriend who had been particularly obsessed with his voice. Every time they were intimate, she insisted that he talk to her throughout. Which was all well and good, and extremely pleasing to his ego that his voice alone could get her off. But it was rather a hindrance when he was trying to focus on other, more pressing matters than contriving yet another dirty thing to say. But if there were ever a scenario which required the skill this was it.
He leaned in slowly and her fingers halted their progression. Her slender hand was beginning to brush bits of his anatomy that held much more sway over his actions than his knee did.
He whispered into her ear, trying to maintain his normal smooth baritone, but failing to entirely eliminate the gravely, husky tinge of lust. It wasn't the dirtiest thought he'd ever had about the opposite sex. But it was by no means the cleanest either. He hoped it was appropriately lewd.
If her reaction was any sign, it was. Blood rose to her cheeks and she flushed, turning her face away from him. Her hand remained where it had hesitated, but the fingers had clamped down onto the muscle of his leg as she stiffened -perhaps shocked by his lascivious suggestion?
Well, at least she hadn't slapped him. Did that mean she was interested? He had thought that cuddle back in Old City's Sanctuary had indicated an affection, a desire for something more than their working relationship. But he had received no further signals from her until her hand had gripped his thigh.
Apparently, Miss Hayes was an efficient processor if nothing else. Within a matter of seconds she had collected her composure. Then she leaned in conspiratorially close to whisper in his ear. Her voice was...well, perfect. As if she had calculated precisely the most effective delivery, attuned specifically to his tastes. Quintessentially sultry, she drawled the correct syllables in the most pleasing of tones. Her voice was a mix of honey and gravel, in just the right proportions to stir every nerve ending in his body. The meaning of the words seemed almost superfluous. She could've spoken gibberish and it still would've sounded like pure, distilled sex pouring from her lips.
"Do you have any idea for how long and how badly I've wanted just precisely that? Wanted you?" she asked in the smoothest, most seductive voice he'd ever heard. Bloody hell, men would pay by the minute to hear her speak.
Yet she seemed to fail to relate to any other human being in the world. Except for that mysterious gran of hers. And for some reason, apparently, Declan Macrae she liked. Not to mention her obvious ability to read him, play him. Lord, could she ever!
Long and badl were the most apt descriptions of his current situation, which was fast becoming a predicament. This was too fast, wasn't it? He should extricate himself from said situation before it were beyond his control. Thinking back to his recent illness, he corrected himself. This would never be out of his control like the lapses in willpower he'd experienced whilst infected with the succubae virus.
This, however, was rather testing his belief that he'd fully recovered, had shed that voracious, lustful burden. For the things he wanted to do to Penny Hayes!
But he wanted her emotionally as well as physically, and he wasn't sure she understood that, wanted the same of him.
She was on him before he had finished forming the thought in his brain, let alone forming the words on his lips. He hadn't kissed her since the virus had convinced him she would be a perfect candidate for dinner. Without the urgency, well, the urgency of wanting to suck the life from her, he noticed how soft her lips were before she intensified the kiss by slipping her tongue into his mouth. It was a greedy, almost harsh embrace. And so consumed by her passion, he did not care that this might damage his chances for a real relationship with the young woman. He forgot that he had wanted to make love to her long and slow, to learn every inch of her skin, explore every curve of her body, tease every nerve.
She was kissing him with such fervor, her body grinding against him with such carnal hunger, he didn't even notice when she had discarded her knickers. Or when, hiking up her skirt, Penny had straddled his waist. He didn't even notice that she had undone the fastener of his trousers until her chilled fingers found his arousal, causing him to flinch slightly at her consistently cold touch as she freed him. The gooseflesh that had prickled along his spine passed quickly however, when she deftly guided the tip of him inside of her with a throaty gasp. The little whimpers she made as she slowly slid down the entire length of him were mesmerising. He couldn't imagine what it felt like for her, but it was obviously creating profound sensations in her body. And he could give it little thought as he was debilitated by the ecstasy of her body taking him deeper and deeper. While Penny took in shuddering breaths and continued her odd sort of whimpers, her thighs came to rest upon his hips, burying him to the hilt within the flesh of her.
She was so warm and wet, soft and supple. Yet she enveloped him in a painfully snug embrace. He groaned the pleasure of being inside of her into the tantalizing skin of her neck.
A moment of silence, of stillness passed between them, in which they adapted to the sensation of their joined bodies. He could feel the rapid beating of her heart as it clashed with the blood pounding in his ears. She was so warm she near burned, felt so good, smelled intoxicating... And his mind, deep down somewhere that could still manage thoughts outside of the sensuous moment was relieved that he could pause, however briefly, to enjoy her. He was ultimately in control...if he wanted to be...
She began to roll her hips, the movement hastening his breathing once more, causing the air to catch in his throat and be released as a low growl. He nipped at her ear and neck, unable to find her lips for she was so tightly pressed against him. And he was in part the one holding her so extremely close that even the movement of her hips against his was restricted. The small motions of her body were no less stimulating, however. And the need to have her so close that he could feel the rise and fall of her chest, the rapid thumping of her heart was so much more vital.
Her hands that had been trapped against his chest, snaked around to his back, pulling him tighter and simultaneously allowing her more leverage to move her lower body. She began to moan ever so quietly as her hips found a rhythm and he joined her in the head-spinning dance. He fought hard to concentrate. Sometimes it was so bloody difficult to hold out. He already knew this would be the briefest sexual encounter he'd had in his adult life, but it didn't make it an iota less pleasurable. And he damn well was going to make certain the same were true for her.
She rode him hard, and the closer she got, the tighter she pressed against him. Her breasts were two hot mounds crushed against his chest. Even through their respective layers of clothing he could feel her stiffened nipples, the shuddering expansion and contraction of her lungs. Her hands were kneading at his back, her face buried into his neck, her chin digging into his shoulder. His arms were bars locking her upper body against his. His hands gripped her so hard he feared he was bruising the creamy skin beneath her clothes. Yet he couldn't let her go, just as she seemed unable to resist clinging suffocatingly to him.
And she continued to grind her hips against his, the friction of her movement unbearably pleasurable, each plunge threatening to undo him before her.
There was a hot moist pressure on his shoulder as she stifled an outcry there. Her hands fisted in the back of his shirt. Her entire body tensed, and she pressed against him harder, as if she could pass through the skin of him and merge their bodies into one.
As her orgasm persisted, her flesh constricted about him. She was so unbearably tight that she pulled him over the edge along with her. He climaxed inside of her, once more groaning his ecstasy into the soft skin of her neck. His grip upon her body was so painfully firm that his knuckles had turned white. But she didn't appear to mind, moaning and shuddering against him as she was doing. The hormonal rush and blissful high obscured the pain of her teeth sinking deeper, bruising his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt as she continued to smother her guttural cries of pleasure against him.
The sounds from her throat softened to whimpers, the writhing of her body stilled until she had melted against him, limp in his arms. He continued to hold her tightly, tenderly kissing a line from her cheek down her throat. Finally, a space opened between their bodies as he eased his hold on her and she leaned back into it, further exposing the skin of her throat to his attentions. A soft hand weakly clung to the nape of his neck for support.
The sweet call of sleep caused him to desist his lips' exploration, and he shifted her to lean against him once more, burying his face in the soft, fragrant waves of her dark hair.
Mmm... it was heaven. She was heaven.
And then she stirred, extricating herself from his lap so quickly the cold rush of air from where she had been ran a shiver up his spine. He tried to shake off all the lingering sensations, the blissful buzzing in his head.
It had all happened rather quickly. Definitely the briefest sexual encounter he'd ever had in his adult life. And yet certainly the most intense, even moreso than with the heightened, raw nerves the succubae infection had bestowed. Perhaps, because rather than playing host to a voracious and insatiable lust, he had been in full command of his faculties, every sensation acutely felt, every hunger his own.
He had never held a woman so very tightly.
Was it for the lack of skin-on-skin contact, the fact that despite their intimacy they had been fully clothed, that he needed to feel her so close? And was it for the same reason she had clung so desperately to him?
No, the root of her need for the insane, uncomfortable proximity seemed somehow different than his had been. And she was so layered, so compartmentalized and closed-off, he might never discover the reason.
He should not have given in to the lust. As the incredible sexual high began to fade, the realization hit him like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach. Penny Hayes was an obviously complex, likely damaged, woman. This sort of interaction would do nothing to aide her. Likely, she used it as a means to distance him, giving him what she thought he wanted in the hopes he would not pursue anything more.
As if validating his assumption, Penny had already returned to her controlled demeanour, smoothing down the figure-hugging pencil skirt and sweeping her hair back up into its strict ponytail. Declan glanced down at his regretfully vacant lap to find that she had tucked him away, refastened and straightened his trousers without his even noticing. Bloody efficient woman.
Scrambling to his feet, Declan grabbed her arm before she made it to the door.
"Penny, what are you doing?"
She smiled tolerantly as if speaking to a dim child.
"I've got work to do," she said. Her voice lowered to a conspiratorial tone. "And I need to clean up a bit first."
Declan felt the heat rise to his cheeks. He wasn't sure if it was from shame or anger. But most definitely, he was feeling frustrated.
"Bloody hell!" was the only response he could manage. He turned away, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. Taking a deep breath, he ran a hand over his face and tried to calm himself. When he faced Penny once more, she had the most perplexed look he'd ever seen anyone adorn.
"Have I done something wrong?" she asked.
Declan clenched a fist. What made this woman tick? He had absolutely no clue.
"Did you not want me to-"
"Ride me like a prize thoroughbred? Were you even attracted to me, Penny? Or did you just fuck me because that's what you thought I wanted?"
She winced and he nearly jumped for joy at the human expression on the stony woman's face. She had melted in his arms just minutes ago and here she was, nothing more than ice standing before him. Fracturing the frigid facade felt so damn good. If only he could find that warm, affectionate, succulent woman within the hard shell once more.
He stepped in close and took her face in his hands. He spoke to her in what he hoped was a soothing, calm tone despite the emotional turbidity he was suffering.
"Penny. What's going on, here?"
"I don't understand what you're asking of me," she said.
Wow. She really didn't understand. Her universe was composed of logical events. If A, then B. There was a physical attraction between the two of them. Therefore, she acted upon it. The more abstract concepts seemed to give her a bit of trouble. Perhaps, it was too soon to even think it, but Declan felt the stirrings of possibility, that he might be falling in love with the baffling young woman. Could she even consider the possibility on her side of things, if she were as damaged as she appeared to be?
There was mutual respect. There was affection. There was concern. He had witnessed it within her. And there was physical chemistry. What more was necessary? Relationships had certainly been started on less.
"I like you, Penny. I want to be with you. Not just sex. Hugs and kisses. Dinners. Films. Cuddles by the fire. Sleeping with you in my arms. Breakfasts. Friendly teasing. Flirting. Affection. Maybe even love.
"I'm asking if you might want the same."
Her eyes were large and round, studying him. She seemed at a loss of words as she attempted to process the information he'd just given her.
Then Penny smiled.
And Declan knew there was no question. He had already fallen. He loved her.
"I want that," she said. The way she said it, the look on her face made him question whether she had ever made such an assertion before, ever considered her own desires.
"Then don't leave yet. Please."
"Okay. I'll stay for a bit, but I really do have responsibilities to see to…"
He pulled her flush against him and kissed her breathless.