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Colin paced the aisle of St. Bride’s, barely trying to keep himself from tearing up the sheet of paper in his hand. Tearing it, burning it, destroying it; ensuring that no one ever read its words.
Lady Whistledown.
Lady fucking Whistledown.
That morning, Colin would’ve sworn he knew everything there was to know about Penelope Featherington. A short drive into London at three in the morning and that sheet of paper practically laughed in his face at the notion.
Lady. Fucking. Whistledown.
Anger didn’t begin to cover Colin’s emotions. Furious, perhaps. Irate.
Was he entitled to those feelings?
No. In no way, shape, or form.
Penelope had no obligations to him; she was free to make whatever idiotic, dangerous decisions she so wished, such as taking the risk of outing herself as the most notorious gossip columnist in the damn country.
Alright, perhaps not directly outing herself, but she wasn’t willing to let a perfectly good scapegoat take the fall for her, and that brewed storms within Colin. The thought of the criticism, the hatred, possibly even the violence that people could direct toward Penelope was like water being poured into a tank, and Colin was drowning in it. He couldn’t let it happen, couldn’t let anyone harm her, regardless of how stupid and reckless she was being.
He couldn’t believe she was being so reckless! The Penelope he knew, well…
Kissing Penelope, touching her, reveling in the lush and warmth of her body, proved to not be the same thing as knowing her.
Whether he truly knew Penelope or not, one thing remained unchanged:
He needed her.
Colin’s head continued to spin as his legs carried him out of the church. Upon walking out, he heard the pounding of raindrops and hail, accompanied by quiet sobs off to his right. His eyes followed the sound, finding Penelope sitting at the base of a column, her face buried in her palms.
His jaw stiffened and his fist clenched around her paper as he approached her.
“Get up,” he bit off. It was colder than he intended, but he couldn’t find it within himself to feel sorry. Penelope remained, face still buried. “Penelope,” he nearly growled.
At this, she looked up.
“Colin,” she whispered, no longer crying. Her face hardened and Colin felt his gut twist.
She wasn’t supposed to be mad at him, he was supposed to be mad at her. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders. He wanted to yell. What the fuck, Penelope? What the hell is wrong with you? What the fuck are you thinking? No, too harsh. God, who was he, Anthony? What was happening to him?
His head was pounding, his chest was tight, and most surprisingly, he was throbbing for her.
“Penelope,” he said again, lower and gentler this time. He stood in front of her and offered a hand to help her up. She took it tentatively and avoided his eyes as she stood. “Look at me.” Nothing. “Please.”
Her eyes slowly moved to his, puffy and tear stained.
His heart clenched.
He was supposed to be mad. He was supposed to tell her how stupid she was being. How reckless she was with her safety. But the look of those crushed, defeated gold flecked eyes staring back at him had imprinted on his brain, and all he could think to do was make sure Penelope never looked at him like that again.
“Why…” Colin started, clenching his fists. Why what, though? Why did she do it? Why did she write about his family? Him? Herself? Why doesn’t she care for her safety? Who knows what people would do if the identity of the most mysterious, critical person in London was finally revealed after all these years. Why would you do this? Why would you be so stupid? If anything happened to you, it would kill me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Colin couldn’t believe that was his question. It wasn’t until he asked that he realized it had been eating at him.
“I couldn’t,” Penelope bit her lip. “Not after all that I’ve written. Especially what I’ve written about your family.”
“Who else knows?” he asked after a moment. Their eyes were locked, and despite his frustration, all he wanted to do was pull her into a hug and never let her go.
“Aside from my publisher? No one,” she sighed. “Except for you.”
“Let’s keep it that way,” Colin grumbled. “Come on, let’s get in the car.”
“Okay,” Penelope mumbled, wiping away a stray tear.
Colin took her hand and led her on a swift, rainy walk through the parking lot until coming to his car. He went to the passenger side and opened her door. She whispered something that sounded like thank you, then ducked in the car. Colin walked around the front and hopped in, turned the key in the ignition, and began to drive.
“Where are we going?” Penelope asked, her voice soft.
“I don’t know,” Colin said, hands fixed on the wheel so he didn’t reach over to trace his fingers along her thigh, partially exposed by her skirt.
“What are we doing?”
“I don’t know,” Colin clenched his jaw, still unsure whether he wanted to yell or let her explain.
“What’s going on between us?”
“Are we playing twenty questions?” Colin asked with a dry laugh.
“I’m sorry, I’m just…” she hesitated, “overwhelmed.”
“Same,” he admitted.
Overwhelmed, angry, confused, enamored, horny.
Stupidly enamored and horny.
“I’m so frustrated with you, Penelope,” Colin said in a low voice. “I’m beyond frustrated. I’m furious. I’m upset. I’m scared for you. I want you to be safe…I want to protect you.”
“There’s nothing to protect me from-” she began, but Colin cut her off.
“Nothing?” he scoffed. “What do you think people will do if they find out who Lady Whistledown is? She’s talked more shit than everyone in London combined. People will want to come after her.”
“You talk about her as if she’s someone else,” Penelope huffed. “She is me. I am her.”
“Well, I’m sorry if I’m having trouble reconciling you with the bitch behind the column,” he bit off.
“Colin!” Penelope gasped, her brows furrowing in anger.
“Insulted?” he mocked, shaking his head as he kept his eyes on the road.
“Yes! I’ll have you know that I’ve worked very hard on that column, and it wasn’t all as bad as you’re making it out to be.”
“No one is going to remember that!” Colin exclaimed, clenching his fists around the steering wheel. God, he wanted to touch her so badly, no matter how angry he was. “All they’re going to remember is what pissed them off the most.”
“But if they don’t know it’s me, there’s nothing to worry about!” she reasoned, clearly becoming as angry as he was.
“Then why,” Colin ground out, “are you not letting Cressida take the fall?”
“Because this is my life’s work, Colin!” she exclaimed, and he winced. Life’s work. Penelope had a life’s work, a purpose, something he felt was sorely lacking in his own life. His anger became tinged with an unfamiliar shade of jealousy, more petulant than hateful. “I’ve worked on this column for over a decade now. I’ve put everything I have into it, and damn it, I did a good job. Cressida doesn’t get to take credit for it.”
“So you want people to know it’s you?” Colin asked incredulously, sure that there must’ve been steam coming from his head.
“No! When did I ever say that?” Penelope exploded. “I don’t want people to know it’s me, but I don’t want them thinking it’s her, Colin. Not her.”
Colin sat with her words. Cressida Cowper was, arguably, the biggest bitch he had ever met, and she had been horrible to Penelope for years. Colin remembered overhearing her snide comments about Penelope, hearing her mock Penelope’s appearance, going so far as “accidentally” spilling punch on Penelope’s dress at a school formal, the list went on and on. She made tormenting Penelope a sport their entire childhood, and it continued on into their adult years.
He looked over to see a solemn Penelope wipe a frustrated tear away, and his heart nearly crumbled.
Colin couldn’t take it anymore, he needed to touch her.
He let his hand drift slowly from the wheel to her thigh, letting his fingers slide along her bare skin before gently squeezing. He heard Penelope suck in a sharp breath, giving him the shadow of a smirk.
He was still angry, still scared, still dumbfounded, but his longing for her was stronger. A longing to see her safe, to see her happy, to touch her, to feel her; a near primal need to have her, lay claim to her.
Colin looked around the rainy street and saw the empty parking lot of St. Paul’s Cathedral. He turned into the lot and parked in the back, far enough from the street that they couldn’t be observed.
“What are we doing?” Penelope asked softly, laying her hand over his that continued to rest on her thigh.
“I need to think,” Colin sighed. “I need…fuck, Pen. I need you. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you.”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” she whispered, squeezing his hand.
“You don’t know that,” he used his free hand to rake his fingers through his hair, hoping that giving them something to do would stop him from touching even more of her. “You don’t know that, and I don’t know how to protect you, but I need to protect you, Penelope,” his voice became desperate as he thought of the backlash she could receive. “I need you.”
“You have me, Colin,” she quietly implored. You have me. Her words whirled around in his mind, warmth spreading from his chest and outward. Even softer, she murmured, “You always have.”
Colin’s heart clenched at that, a reminder of the time he had wasted.
“I need you,” he repeated, squeezing her thigh as he said it. It was all he could think. He needed her in every way imaginable, though the need felt most persistent in his chest and below his belt at the time being. He gently inched his hand further up her thigh, brushing against the hem of her skirt. Penelope’s breathing stuttered as his fingers slowly dipped between her two thighs, a hand’s length away from her center.
“You still…” she breathed, chest rising and falling as she looked into his eyes, her own as wide as he’d ever seen them. “You still want me?”
“I believe the word I used was need,” Colin couldn’t help but smirk. He turned his body toward her, and she did the same. He slowly wiggled his fingers between her thighs before sliding his hand further up her leg, close enough to feel the heat radiating from where her legs met. “Need is much more powerful, in my opinion.”
“Well,” Penelope licked her lips, and the sight of her delightfully pink tongue sliding across those outrageously kissable lips made Colin’s entire body clench. “I meant what I said. You have me, Colin.”
Colin slid his fingers out from between her legs, eliciting a pleading pout from Penelope, but easily slid his other hand in its place. With the first hand, he reached to cup her warm cheek, letting his thumb stroke along her cheekbone.
They sat there for a moment, unblinking, chests rising and falling heavier by the second.
Colin couldn’t wait any longer. He leaned in, quickly capturing her lips with his own. One hand found its way into her auburn mane, tangling into curls and bringing her even closer to him. His other hand wasted no time in traveling to where her legs joined.
Touching Penelope was electric; it was ecstasy.
The way her skin burned under his touch, so soft, begging to be caressed.
Her moans, always soft in the beginning, but delightfully loud as he worked his fingers within her, or found himself between her thighs.
The heat that built within himself, his heart racing as she let her nails lightly scraped down his back, his cock twitching with excitement.
Stolen trysts with Penelope over the last month had proven to be unlike anything Colin had experienced before. Being with her felt natural, felt right. They hadn’t gone all the way yet, but it had been on his mind for weeks, and the more time he spent with her, getting to know the real Penelope, the more he longed for her. For her body, her mind, her thoughts, her wit, her laughter, her everything. Even now with her Whistledown lunacy, Colin yearned for Penelope.
He needed to be with her, to claim her as his own. He was a goner, hopelessly enamored, and he knew in that moment that he would be forever hers.
Colin’s fingers found their way behind Penelope’s panties and were given a warm, wet greeting. Feeling the proof of Penelope’s desire made him stiff as stone.
“Fuck, Pen,” Colin whispered against her lips as he teasingly swirled his fingers around her entrance. “I love how wet you get.”
She responded with a moan and the bucking of her hips, clearly wanting more.
Colin continued his teasing, lightly dragging his fingers up and down before parting her lips and tracing the edge of them.
“Colin,” Penelope nearly whined, a plea for reprieve.
“Penelope,” he whispered. “Is there something you want, dear?”
“Touch me,” she asked breathlessly as he began to work his lips down her jaw and to her ear.
“I am touching you,” he whispered into her ear with a shameless smirk, nipping at it as he finished speaking.
“More, please,” she managed as he began to suck gently along her neck.
“Where?” he asked, taking pleasure in his torment.
“You know where,” Penelope whined, lightly tugging on his hair as continued to work on her neck, sparks traveling down his spine as she did.
“Hmmm,” he hummed into her skin before letting his index finger slip inside of her, gently stroking her wall as his thumb grazed over her clit.
“Oh god, Col,” Penelope moaned before sharply sucking in her breath as Colin slid a second finger inside of her.
He loved when she called him that.
“Pen,” he whispered as he stroked within her, hardening with each moan that slipped through her lips. “I need you, Penelope.”
“I need you, too,” she said, hopelessly passionate as she reunited their lips, tasting sweet as their tongues danced.
“Let’s get in the back,” Colin murmured, removing his fingers after a few deep strokes.
Both hurried out of the car, finding themselves in the backseat in record time.
Colin’s hands went immediately for Penelope’s waist, pulling her closer to him as his lips ravished her skin.
In return, Penelope’s hands splayed onto his chest, her nails slowly scratching him through his shirt, tantalizing and hot. She scratched from his chest to his stomach before slipping her hands underneath his shirt, her nails making their way to his back, one of his favorite spots to be touched.
“Oh, Pen,” he groaned as she dug harder, his hands moving to cup her breasts. He loved the weight of them, how full they felt as they spilled over his grasp. Full, lovely, large.
“Colin,” Penelope whispered into his ear. “Colin, please.”
“Please what, love?” Love. The word rolled naturally off his tongue, applying so well to Penelope.
Love.
Love, love, love.
“I need you,” she echoed their earlier sentiments, and Colin’s heart was fit to burst. His hands snuck down to her legs, moving under her skirt and finding the elastic of her panties.
“These off, now,” he whispered before snapping the elastic against her hip. Her hands rushed to meet his, tearing at the fabric to bring it down and off. Once they were safely flung elsewhere in Colin’s car and his pants and trousers were around his knees, he took Penelope by the waist and seated her on his lap, the weight of her exquisite.
“Colin,” Penelope breathed, face flushed as she looked at him, brown eyes luminous and full of something Colin could feel in his own gaze. Something his eyes held only for her, and hers only for him. Something molten, something deep. Something that set his soul on fire as emerald and amber locked, and nothing else seemed to matter.
“Penelope,” he whispered, running his hands up and down her thighs, pulling her into his stiffness.
“Get inside of me, Col,” Penelope whispered into his ear as she rubbed against his twitching cock. “Please.”
Colin groaned, finding her lips with his own as he reached down to guide himself into her, one hand on her hips as she lowered her raised hips. He slid in slowly, the pair of them breathing heavily as Penelope gradually took him to hilt.
“Fuck, Pen,” Colin groaned again, this time against her lips as he had no intention of stopping their kiss for more than a moment. Their lips continued to move together, becoming swollen and red with each hungry meeting. As they kissed, he let his hands travel to her thighs, pulling her down further, sinking himself even deeper. His heart raced as little moans escaped Penelope’s lips, still pressed against his own.
Colin had as much of Penelope as possible, but he still needed more. He wanted to run his hands and lips along every inch of her, to feel their bodies move in sync, to hear every thought that ran through her brilliant mind, to see each one of her smiles, to hear her laughter that constantly sparked joy in his heart. He needed her, all of her. No matter what she had done, what she had written, what absolute idiocy she was inviting into her life, she had slowly become his world and he never wanted to let her go.
“Oh, Colin,” Penelope moaned, her hands resting on his shoulders, nails searing into his skin. “Colin, you feel so good, I- oh, god,” she panted, and the honey of her voice melted into his bones. He thrust even harder into her, “Col- yes, oh my god, just like that, please, oh- oh!”
“Do you like that, Pen?” Colin asked with a smirk, even though the answer was clear.
“I lo- oh, yes,” she half moaned, half giggled as his next thrust ended in a swiveling of his hips, moving himself around inside of her. “I love it, Col- fuck, I love it, I love it so much, I love-” hearing the four letter pour from her lips over and over drove him insane, he needed to know - did she love… “you, Colin.”
He nearly stopped mid thrust, but the happiness that bubbled in his heart at her words was enough to keep him going.
“What?” Colin asked with a smile, knowing full well what she’d said, but wanting to hear it again. He continued to guide her hips up and down as he slid in and out of her, his eyes fixed on hers as she blushed.
“I love you, Colin,” Penelope repeated, a smile growing on her face big enough to match his own. His steady rhythm within her continued as they took a moment to just look at one another, both flushed and hot and beginning to sweat.
“I love you, Pen,” he kissed her before she had a chance to respond, one hand cradling the back of her head as the other pulled her even closer to him, fully sheathing himself within her and holding her there, letting himself throb with her walls tightly wrapped around him. “God, I love you so much.”
“Even after everything I’ve- oh, oh!” Penelope was unable to finish her sentence as Colin’s fingers traveled between them and to her center, toying with her pinnacle as she vibrated beneath his touch.
“Yes, even then,” Colin whispered. “Then, now, always,” each word was slow and drawn out, accompanied by an equally teasing thrust. “I love you, Penelope.”
“I love you, Colin,” she repeated breathlessly as he picked up his pace and she began to ride him harder, fervor taking over both of them. “God, I never want you to stop.”
“I could make that work,” Colin quipped before kissing her, both gasping for breath but not caring enough to try harder for the oxygen their lungs craved. Though he talked a big game, it was clear that both of their climaxes were threatening to release.
With a few more well placed strokes of her clit paired with a deep thrust, Penelope unraveled in Colin’s lap, her small hands desperately wrapped around his neck, nails digging - not that Colin minded. After a second, third, and fourth thrust, Colin burst within Penelope, and it felt even better than he had imagined.
“Colin, that was…” Penelope paused as she leaned forward, resting her head against his chest.
“Glorious,” he finished, wrapping an arm around her and placing a hand on her head, gently stroking her now-messy auburn curls, holding her close to him.
“Glorious,” she repeated, and he could feel her lips curve into a smile against his chest.
Glorious.
Though the rain continued to pound down onto the roof of his car, all Colin could hear was that one word echoing in his head in Penelope’s sweet timbre, and he shuddered in delight.
Glorious.
Glorious, glorious, glorious.