Chapter 179 Then Wear It Reese "Look at me!" I snarled instead wanting to focus on the woman spread out beneath me. The command was raw, ripped from a place of furious frustration at my mind. Penelope’s head jerked, her tear-filled eyes struggling to focus on me. There was no fire. It wasn’t enough. I fucked her deeper, grinding against her cervix with each punishing stroke, using her suspended body like a battering ram against my own mind. Her cries became ragged sobs, her body convulsing in my grip, but I didn’t relent. I chased my release not for pleasure, but for annihilation—the obliteration of memory, the silencing of the phantom voice whispering Elizabeth’s name while I fucked Penelope. I felt it building, a dark pressure coiling low in my gut. My grip tightened impossibly on her ankles, my knuckles white, tendons standing out like cables on my forearms. I drove into her suspended form with a final, brutal surge, burying myself impossibly deep, grinding against her as a guttural roar tore from my throat. It was less climax than detonation, a violent expulsion of energy aimed at the void inside me. I held myself rigid, locked deep within her trembling body, shuddering as the wave crashed over me, leaving only a hollow, echoing silence. I withdrew slowly, releasing her ankles abruptly. Her legs dropped like dead weights onto the silk, splayed awkwardly. She lay utterly still, breathing in shallow, hitched gasps, her eyes closed, tears drying on her cheeks. I stepped back, pulling off the condom with sharp, efficient movements. I disposed of it and collapsed beside her on the bed and she curled into me immediately like a cat seeking attention. ~~~~~ The room still smelled like our perfume, sweat, and the kind of desperation I could taste if I licked my teeth. Penelope lay half draped across my chest, breathing hard, her fingers drawing lazy shapes on my chest like she thought we’d just created some profound, spiritual connection. Cute. She always looked at me like she was trying to memorize me. Like if she stared long enough she might somehow become someone I couldn’t walk away from. She didn’t understand the first rule of being with me.I always walk away. Always. “Did I hurt you?” I asked, though not interested in pillowtalk. She shook her head, blushing. And honestly? I almost felt pity for her. She looked so innocent. Soo in love… Soo clueless. “Don’t fall asleep on me,” I murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her damp cheek. “I’m not done with you yet.” Her smile was soft, dreamy. God, she really had no fucking idea. “No,” she whispered, almost shy. “I’m awake. I just… I like this. Being here. With you. It reminds me of the good old days.” Of course she does. I make it easy to like me. I make it purposeful to be wanted. I let her rest there another moment—just long enough to deepen the attachment—then I shifted, guiding her head off my chest and sitting up. Her brows pinched slightly, confused. Good. Confusion is the doorway to control. I reached for the black gift box I’d placed on the nightstand earlier. “Here,” I said, tone casual. “Got you a little something.” Her eyes widened instantly. Just like I knew they would. “You… got me a gift?” she breathed. “Oh my Goodness, Reese.” I smirked. “Don’t sound so shocked, sweetheart. You know I’m the king of sweetness.” She laughed as she sat up, naked and flushed, tucking the sheets around herself like she suddenly remembered modesty mattered. She took the box carefully, as if it might vanish if she blinked. I leaned back against the headboard, stretching, letting her look at me. Let her think she still had the upper hand. She lifted the lid and her breath caught. The black lace lingerie lay inside, all delicate and expensive. The type of lace you have to handle like it has a heartbeat. Her fingers hovered over it. “Reese… it’s beautiful.” “Try the panties,” I said, voice smooth. “There’s something special about them.” She picked up the lace panties, running the fabric through her fingers. It was almost innocent—almost. Then her fingertips brushed the small, soft bulge sewn into the inner lining, nearly invisible to the eye. And she froze. Her eyes flicked to mine—large, wide, trembling with something dangerously close to worship. “It has…” She swallowed. “A vibrator.”“Mhm.” I held up the remote. The small, gold, perfectly polished thing resembled a fob. “Very discreet. Very silent. Very controlled.” Her lips parted. A shiver traveled visibly through her. But still, she liked it. Her body was shaking with excitement. I smiled like I was letting her in on a secret. “It’s designed for confident women who don’t mind carrying pleasure with them,” I explained softly. “Confident women like you, darling.” I didn’t tell her the real purpose. I didn’t have to. But she already wanted to wear it. “Reese…” she whispered, voice all breathy and hopeful. “Why… why would you give me this?” There it was. The question she didn’t understand she was begging me to answer. I leaned forward, one hand lifting to her jaw, thumb brushing her lower lip. I kept my voice low. “Because you want to be the woman I think about,” I murmured. “Even when you’re not with me. Don’t you?” Her eyes fluttered. She nodded. Small. Helpless. “Say it,” I coaxed. “Yes,” she breathed. “I want that. I want you to think about me. All the time.”God, she made this easy. I dragged my thumb along her lip, slow enough to feel her pulse jump. “Then wear it,” I said. “Anytime you want me to think about you, wear it. And my mind will always be on you. Then you'll feel me, between your legs, my sweet.” Her breath hitched. Not from embarrassment. No. From thrill. From euphoria. “You want me to wear it while I’m working?” she whispered her lewd fantasy. “Not want.” I corrected softly. “I need you to.” Her thighs pressed together under the sheet. She didn’t even realize she did it. I let my voice drop even lower. “You’ll be sitting there,” I murmured, “confident, brilliant, working. And I’ll be the only one who knows what you have on underneath. The only one who knows you’re all mine.” Her eyes darkened. That word—mine—always lands differently depending on who hears it. For Penelope? It was scripture. “I…” She licked her lips. “I’ll do it.” Of course she would. “Good girl,” I said. She trembled as her eyes dropped to my lips. Then, just as she reached to kiss me—because that’s what she always does, she always reaches—I leaned back slightly and let her mouth meet air instead of me. Control. Her breath stuttered. “Reese…?” she whispered. I just smiled. “I’ll see you, sweetheart,” I said, sliding from the bed and fixing my pants like I had places to be. Which I did. “My mind will be all about you, Penny.” She watched me like I was oxygen and fire and salvation all at once. I didn’t kiss her goodbye. I didn’t need to. She already thought the gift meant I cared. She already thought the lingerie meant intimacy. She already thought the sex was about emotions. She already thought the vibrator was about pleasure. She had no idea it was a leash. A leash Roman and I would be tugging tomorrow. After all, Penelope insulted Savannah. And no one gets away with insulting the woman carrying the future of the Blackwood name. No one.