Chapter 3
AN: Wow... thank you for the reviews, for trusting in me, and for giving this a chance. I will answer soon... As for the story... I think we are all a little like Penelope; shocked, surprised, eeked out, but curious, too. Hang in there. By chapter six, like Garcia, you'll start understanding more...
Derek should've expected the question, he should've been prepared to answer it with some glib response, but to his chagrin, he wasn't. He was so thrown off by seeing her there. He was worried. He hated worrying. He stared at her, pissed she wasn't following his directive, and even more pissed he couldn't protect her from herself. He wanted her out of there, away from any harm that could befall her. From the set of her chin and the fire in her eyes, he knew damn well she wasn't going to leave. At least not until he answered.
He was nervous, too. He wasn't prepared to share this part of his life. He saw the look on her face when he told her what it was: saw the cross of curiosity, horror, and confusion. He was afraid; for the first time in forever, he was scared. He wanted to protect her, he wanted to take care of her, and he wanted her to see him as something good, like she always did.
He didn't know if she could do that after tonight.
Scowling at her, he knocked on the bar for the bartender's attention. Still looking at her, he ordered, "Jack, neat."
The bartender poured immediately. "Is this on your tab, sir?"
"Yes." Grabbing her arm with authority, he dragged a protesting Penelope to a corner far away from the rest of the crowd. He plopped into a chair, crossed his legs, and said, "Take a seat."
She considered leaving him and his domineering ways, but wanted so badly to know the answers to so many questions: when he first went there, why he was there, who was he there with, and... to her mortification... what turned him on. Slowly, she sat, her skirt riding up her thighs.
Derek reached over to pull it down, covering her pale thighs.
This was too much. She could wear what the hell she wanted to; whenever the hell she wanted to. She pulled the skirt back up, glaring at him in defiance.
"Put it back." His eyes narrowed to obsidian slits. "Now."
The tone he used caused chills down her spine. Still, she was defiant.
"Listen, since you don't have the sense to get the hell out of here, I am going to tell you this, and tell you once." He leaned forward, his eyes flashing glittering black fire, and muttered, "You are asking for it with what you are doing, and you don't even know what you're asking for. There are a lot of men here I can't protect you from; especially when they are in groups." He sat back and took a sip of his drink. "I'm repeating this once: pull the fucking skirt down."
This time, she did as he told her. She watched as he scowled at her over the rim of his drink. She felt the tears stinging the back of her eyes and her heart pounding painfully in her chest. For the first time ever, he didn't feel like her best friend. He was a stranger... but she so wanted to know him. She wanted to know every part of Derek. And now... she didn't know if he'd let her, and it hurt.
She'd made a big mistake, a huge whopper of a mistake, coming here. She was leaving.
"I'm going home," she whispered softly. At the same time, he began to speak.
"I was in the Marines when I came here the first time. It was a joke, really. We thought it would be fun, Don, my unit, myself. Just to try something different, something way over the top." He gave her a wry smile. "I ended up liking it. Liking certain things that are a lot less vanilla than the sex other people have."
"Vanilla?" she asked in confusion.
"Such an innocent." He smiled at her, the warmth touching his eyes for the first time since they sat. "Vanilla is sex that is traditional, the type of sex you normally have."
"How do you know what kind of sex I have, Derek?" she asked. "You've never been in my bed."
"Do you like to be watched, Penelope?" he asked sharply, leaning close to her, dominating her space. "I do."
She blinked for a second, leaning back, and her heart sped up. She didn't know the answer to that. She'd never been watched.
"What about bondage, P?" He arched a brow, continuing. "Or real spanking? You've teased about that with me, but have you ever really done it? Or whips? Maybe you'd like that man and his whips."
"I…I.."
He took another sip of his drink and sat back, swirling the ice in his glass. "I didn't think so."
Her cheeks turned pink and she scowled. "Just because I haven't done it doesn't mean I wouldn't like it."
"Baby Girl, it doesn't mean that you would, either."
That was a challenge she wasn't willing to back down from. "I still want to see. I want to see, to experience, to have some fun." She stood. "I am not some infant, Derek!"
"Sit down."
She turned, but he grabbed her around her waist and pulled her into his lap. Near her ear he hissed, "Look, P. Look at the many men here who want you. There are no less than seven sets of eyes on you, probably more."
Penelope glanced around, and indeed, there were many men staring at her. Some blatantly licked their lips, looking at her. There was no doubt, they desired her. Penelope knew she was pretty, knew she was friendly and nice, but she didn't know she was truly desirable. Certainly not to that many men. A strange thrill ran through her, along with a healthy dose of apprehension and self-preservation.
"They see you, see that you're the most beautiful woman to grace this club, and they want you. You stand up again, you defy me, and they will take over. Do you want that?"
She turned to look at Derek, and he sucked in his breath. Along with fear of the unknown, her eyes were dark, burning, and her lips were parted. She was turned on. He never anticipated that she would want this, that she would be turned on and have some of the same desires as him. He felt himself growing harder by the second under where her thighs rested.
"I just want to see," she whispered, still looking at him. "Will you show me, please?"
