Page 87 of Under His Control

Then she twists her face away from mine, her words a breathy whine when she speaks.

“If ‘see this through’ means sex, then we can’t.”

“Of course we can. There’s nothing physically stopping us.” I press myself to her pussy to stress the point. “The only barrier between us is our clothes.”

Her eyes flash with indignation.

“My moral values say we shouldn’t. Yours seem to be non-existent.”

I press my lips to the spot just below her ear.

“Sweetheart, I’m going to lick and suck those moral values out of you until you’re begging me to fuck you.”

I dip my head and kiss the swell of her breast. She sucks in a breath and pushes against the top of my head. I raise my gaze to hers with a smile.

“One little kiss and those moral values are already gone? You seem eager for me to go lower.”

“I’m eager for you to stop.”

Any other woman and I wouldn’t dare continue. Which is ironic, given our history. A signed consent agreement from her should be mandatory before we even kiss. The total lack of conviction in her shaky voice makes me smile wider.

“Spoken like the dirtiest fucking liar there ever was.”

Despite her protesting whines, I ease my way down her body, lift the hem of her top, and press a kiss to her bare stomach. She lets out a soft moan that wakes my cock. If she’s “eager for me to stop,” why does she lift her hips for more?

I squeeze her waist and kiss her stomach again, right where I made my mark a few nights ago.

I’ll leave it inside her this time.

The thought is wrong as hell.

I’m harder from anticipation to make it real.

Penelope doesn’t protest or tell me to stop when I hook my hand into the waist of her pants and pull them down. She looks like she can’t believe what’s happening and curious about what I’ll do next.

I can’t believe what I’m doing either. Though I know exactly what I’m going to do pretty soon now that her pussy is in my line of sight. She’s wearing a pair of black underwear and it has a small satin bow on the waist. I can’t wait to unwrap my gift.

“Lift your shirt.”

She looks unsure at first then tugs the hem of her shirt up to her sternum. I slide my hands up and down along the outsides of her smooth thighs.

“Over your chest.”

When she obeys with a shy look on her face, the view of her breasts held in her bra makes my lust for her burn hotter.

Penelope’s bare breasts deserve a standing ovation. It’s exciting seeing them in a bra while she’s on her back too. They’re plumper in the bra cups, eager to be free.

I gently squeeze her thigh.

“Pull down your bra, babygirl. Let Daddy see those gorgeous tits.”

I love it when Penelope blushes from the things I say. She has more maturity and understanding about the world than most women her age, yet there’s an innocence about her that a dark part of me enjoys corrupting.

Slowly, she hooks her fingers into her bra cups and tugs them down until they’re slotted under her breasts. I’ve seen Penelope’s bare breasts at least three times now. Each time, the view is more amazing than the last.

Maybe it’s because I’m not supposed to see them and every opportunity feels like stealing treasure.

Penelope’s tits are large and heavy, her flawless golden-tinged flesh tipped with pink nipples. My mouth waters to suck them and my cock can’t get any harder. It’s starting to ache trapped in my pants.