Chapter 12
AN: Thank you for the well wishes and reviews! I had my minor surgery yesterday and am home recouping for the weekend. Doing really well now—feeling lots better already. I am hoping to catch up on reviews right after I post (Cause I kept you waiting long enough!)...Love, Kricket
Over the next two weeks, Penelope continued to do shows. She'd done another one with Derek that had been a raging success—and had left her hormones raging!—and had done a couple more by herself while he was on the road that had been just as good. In fact, she was damned good at selling the products now. She realized she was starting to feel a lot more comfortable around all the gadgets; they didn't even make her blush anymore. Not only that, she was a lot more conscious of her own sexuality and the power she had in being a woman.
It affected who she was at work, too. She was back to being her flirty, chipper self. She had been in a funk since she'd stopped dating Kevin—had felt like she'd lost something, some part of herself, in those years somewhat wasted with him. Doing the shows, getting in touch with who and what she was, changed that feeling a great deal, too.
Road testing things helped change her feelings and were a lot of fun on the side. Derek was still testing along with her, and they'd talk and laugh about the items at lunch. He was such a good friend to her. She realized that he'd made a great deal of difference in how she felt. His unending support and love made her confidence and spirit soar. He just also had the strange side effect of turning her on exponentially. Unlike any other man on the planet. She couldn't help but stare, and dream, and lust...
The frustration was starting to get to her.
"So what's in the goody bag to try with this shipment?" Morgan asked, sitting at lunch with her. He twirled his pasta; it had been a massive portion that he had nearly cleared off his plate.
"Come on over and see tonight, lover, and I…you know, if I had that much pasta at lunch, I would be sleeping in half an hour," she mused, looking at his near empty dish. "Too many carbs."
He sucked a long noodle in his mouth between those oh so kissable looking lips, and then smiled at her. "Good thing I can come in and take a nap in your office…"
"Ohhhh, no, you don't," she said with a grin. "You, sexy thing, are way too distracting."
He grinned back at her, an adorable spot of pasta sauce on his chin.
She leaned over with her fingertip poised to remove it. "Here…you got a spot…there…"
He reached for her wrist, held it, and then sucked her finger into his mouth. She could feel the warm, wet heat of his mouth, the velvety softness of his tongue as he flicked and licked, the gentle nibble of his teeth…and her core began that low throb of yearning yet again.
He released her wrist and the suction on her finger with a pop. He smiled wickedly at her and said, "That made the spaghetti taste all the better, Baby Girl."
Calm down, stupid. It's a tease. It's all just a tease.
After mentally chastising herself, she took a drink of her soda and looked back at her plate. If her chest was a little sore, she didn't notice that much.
Derek showed up at Penelope's place a little after seven. He'd gone there right after working out, and he was completely anticipating having fun with her. She was so fun to tease, and she got him hot under the collar without even trying; she was that naturally sexy.
He was so happy she was having fun selling this stuff. It was obvious she was having a blast now, hosting shows, and showing items. He loved to go with her, just to watch her light up and shine. She was funny, silly, innocent, and yet, naughty.
For instance, the other show he'd gone to, he'd watched as she'd held up a decent-sized hot pink vibrator. He loved that she'd blushed as she'd discussed how awesome it felt.
"Ladies, this gives you a feeling so full..." As she'd paused, her cheeks had turned that luscious shade of pink, before she'd continued to explain, "If you've never had a girthy lover…it's indescribable how good it feels."
There was no denying what she'd been saying; she'd said it with such heart and conviction. The only problem he'd had was that the vibrator hadn't been that big or that thick. It had gotten him thinking and made him wonder: did her other lovers have toothpicks in their pants? Not only that, it made his own thick erection he'd been sporting pulse in show off mode.
And he'd definitely had an erection, like he did most of the time around her now. He had to wear pants that needed a belt, so they would be loose enough to be around her. Damn, the girl turned him on! Between the sexual stuff she was toting around and her inborn flirtatious sexiness…he was doomed.
Shaking his head to clear the fog, he rapped on the door.
"Hi, Hot Stuff," she said, opening the door with a smile. "C'mon in."
As he slipped off his shoes, he scanned the room. On her floor were the scattered usual items…and one really big box that was partially open.
"What in the hell is that?" he asked, trying to see inside the box. Was that...it couldn't be!
His thoughts were confirmed a second later.
"That, my dulcet darling," she said wih a laugh, "is a sex swing."
His eyes opened wide in shock. "Damn! Really? You ordered that thing?"
"Yep!" she said with a naughty little giggle, like she'd been caught smoking in the girls' locker room at school.
"Why on earth…"
"I've had tons of people ask me how it works, if it's good and all that, and I had no clue even how to use it." She shrugged. "A good saleslady would know its function, at least, right?"
"It takes two people, baby," he explained, arching a brow at her.
"Oh," she said, her pretty pink cheeks still flushed. "I know. I thought I would put it up and jump in by myself. You know, just to see…"
"I'll do it with you," he blurted out before he could even stop himself. He couldn't help it. He suddenly had a dire need to try that thing with her.
A second later, he felt his erection surge in his pants.
Down boy! he thought immediately. He knew this wasn't for his own sexual gratification; this was to help his best friend sell products. He had enough lube at home to take care of his problem himself.
That thought didn't make him feel any better…
He watched her, biting that full bottom lip of hers between her teeth, as she contemplated his suggestion. "Well, I do need help getting it set up and spotting me, but I think only I will climb in."
"Hell, no," he argued. "You can't do a full description without both of us trying it."
She turned even more pink. "Derek, it's going to put us in a pretty intimate position."
"We'll be clothed," he added quickly, surprising himself. He realized then how much he wanted this. He really wanted to feel her body against his. It had been a long time—too long—since he'd felt the press of warm feminine flesh yielding under his, the softness and the…
Concentrate, Morgan; it's Garcia, damn it! he snapped to himself, but it was too late. He'd just made a deadly error, a fatal one, to his control.
"Follow me," she said, standing up.
His eyes stayed glued to her gently swinging hips, to the curve of her backside as she bent over to pick up the swing and the chains. By the time they made it into her bedroom, he was actually sweating.
There was a drill lying on her bed. He looked at it, and then looked up. A couple of silver hooks protruded from the spackled ceiling. He arched a brow at her. "Did you use a bracing beam?"
"Of course," she said, rolling her eyes as she removed the drill. "I know something about support. I've hung pictures."
"We're a hell of a lot heavier than pictures, Garcia," he said.
He shook his head as she ignored him. He watched her climb onto the bed, and once she was steady, she reached her hand out. "Hand me the swing."
"Yes, ma'am," he said with a grin, climbing up on the bed next to her to hand her the item.
She was studying the now hanging swing. "Okay…I think I sit…here," she said, boosting herself into the seat. She swung just a little, dangling her feet. "Hey…this is comfy."
"Good," he replied, reaching for a hanging strap. "I think you put your feet here…"
"Look at the instructions," she ordered.
He rolled his eyes at her. Like he'd need instructions! "Just put your feet in."
She did as he told her, and it allowed her to boost back a bit more. She reached for what looked liked handholds, and then scooted even farther back. The motion dropped her butt in the sling and caused her hips to tip and her legs to part wide for him.
She was blissfully swinging, giggling, laying mostly back, her hair flowing behind her. She looked like a naughty fairy nymph in a garden meadow, waiting for her lover to stand between those long, parted legs. "This is such fun! Wheee…"
"Oh, damn…" he muttered under his breath. He could feel the sweat beading on his forehead again.
"Hop up, Hot Stuff, and try it!"
Derek leaned back against his swing. He was still standing across from her, trying to get it under control.
"All right, hon, how do you think this works?" she asked.
Derek couldn't speak; he reached for the handholds by her hips and pulled her closer to him. The vee between her legs rested perfectly against his bulge with the positioning of the swing. If they were naked, he'd be balls deep inside her in one fluid stroke. The position kept her semi-reclined, like he was carrying her, bouncing her against his cock, and the swing supported his lower back while he stood.
"Oh, my God," he muttered, as he felt the heat from between her thighs wash over his straining erection. Instinctively, his hips pressed her forward, and the swing helped glide him into closer contact with her.
"Derek?" she whispered, coming up into a seated position. "Are you okay?"
He stood back up, releasing her, so she swung away from him. He needed to get it under control, but everything in him was screaming for completion. He noticed she was still staring at him, waiting for him to answer.
"That," he said, and then had to swallow immediately. He was salivating, for Christ's sake! "That was interesting."
"We can stop, if you want—"
"No. One more. You need to know. Let's do this," he said, scooting up onto the seat. He knew he was torturing himself, but he couldn't help himself.
He needed to touch her, to be close to her, if only for this moment.
Reaching again for her swing, he looped her legs over his, sliding her forward and nearly into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her and the swing, as they hung there.
"Okay?" he muttered thickly.
She didn't speak; she only nodded.
Slowly, they began to swing back and forth, gently, causing a rocking motion. He could feel her shiver lightly, felt the warmth of her breath on his neck. With each swinging motion, gravity brought her hips down, and need thrust his hardness deeper, a meshing of their most intimate—
Suddenly, a loud snap and a cracking sound erupted, causing Penelope to lean back with wide eyes and look at him.
It was the last thing he saw before they plummeted onto the bed in a pile of swing, chains, and plaster.
"Are you okay?" he asked immediately.
She was sprawled on top of him, wrapped in the swing still, her legs spread wide over him.
"Yes," she said. "Are you?"
He started to chuckle, as she did, too. "We made a mess, woman."
"Yes, we did."
"You sure you used a support beam?"
She leaned up and looked down at him through her tangle of hair. "Well, I thought...ummm…"
He shook his head and chuckled, and then brought his hands to her face, brushing her messy hair from her eyes. "Crazy girl…"
Her lips were so close, wet and parted, as she looked down at him. It took everything in his power not to close the space and kiss her like she was meant to be kissed.
He needed to get the hell out of there. Pronto.
Instead, he kissed her forehead, and then slapped her butt. "Let me up, woman. I'd better go home and figure out what I need to fix your ceiling before your landlord finds out."
She gasped and rolled off him. "Thank you! Old Mr. Tucker would have a bird, D. Thank you for fixing it."
"I caused it," he said with a grin, scrambling to his feet. "I fix it."
"We caused it, sugar," she said, standing and hugging him as the straps fell to the floor.
"That we did," he said, moving out of her grasp. He needed distance, and quickly. "Goodnight, honey."
She gave him a saddened, but somewhat understanding, look, which made his heart race. Did she know how he felt?
"Goodnight, Hot Stuff."
He didn't find out; instead, she simply shut the door.