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Penelope was on her way to work when suddenly the weather decided to play games with her. Rain—not drizzle—proper downpour started and she tugged her bag closer, muttered a curse and ran for cover, every drop soaking through faster than she could blink. Of course, she hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella on a mildly sunny day, thinking she could rely on the forecast. Of course, she’d chosen this morning to wear a white shirt over her favourite hot-pink bra. Dry, the shirt was modest enough. Wet, it was nearly indecent.
And it was her second week at her new office. No way in hell she was going to show up there looking like this!
Her cheeks flamed as she crossed her arms over her chest, evaluating her options. She could go home, change and then go to work. But that would take another hour. She could buy a new shirt from Primark on her way, but she hadn't gotten her salary yet. Oh the woes of being poor! She thought glumly.
If only she were as rich as the Bridgertons! Then she could have had the money to splurge— But, wait! Just around the corner, she knew, was Colin’s place. He was in France or was it Italy?...Off writing, or travelling, or… whatever Colin did. He’d pressed a spare key into her hand months ago with his easy grin: “For emergencies. Or if you just need to steal some biscuits.”
This qualified as an emergency.
Ten minutes later she let herself in, kicked off her wet shoes, peeled the clammy shirt and the wet jeans from her body, and stuffed it into the dryer. Relief fluttered through her—finally, she could warm up in her undies. But she realised that the water had seeped inside and now her matching pink set of lingerie was clinging to her body very uncomfortably. Her hands went to the clasp of her bra, ready to shake free of the clingy fabric.
That’s when she heard it. A sharp inhale behind her.
She froze.
Slowly, her head turned.
Colin stood in the doorway of the washing area, his hair still damp from a shower, wearing only dark grey sweatpants that clung low on his hips. Her heart stuttered at the sight…and at the way his eyes weren’t on her face. They were riveted to her chest, where her bra, wet and clinging, was clearly showing the shape and size of her areola.
She scrambled to cover herself, though her hands were laughably small against the swell of her breasts. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, voice higher than intended.
His gaze finally flicked up to hers, though his expression was dazed. “This is my flat,” he said, maddeningly calm.
“But…you were supposed to be in France.”
“Plans changed.” His mouth twitched in a half-smile. “Now tell me, Pen. What are you doing here?”
She swallowed. “I… had an emergency. The rain started suddenly, and I thought—I thought it would be safe to wait here.” Her voice wavered, because his eyes had drifted down again, at her rising and falling bosom.
“Safe,” he repeated, stepping closer as if in trance. Her breath caught as he stopped just inches away from her. “You’re shivering.”
“I—well, I told you… the rain started, soaking me—” She faltered when his hand lifted, hesitating near her waist.
Her lips parted. She didn’t step back.
“You really did get yourself in trouble,” he said hoarsely, his mouth dipping close to hers. “Coming here half undressed, looking like this…”
“I was going to work!” She protested, “I got wet!”
“Well, let's see how wet you really are.” Colin said and slid his palm against her waist, tugging her closer until she collided with his chest. She gasped at the feel of him, at the way his breath hitched.
“What do you mean you are wet, Pen?” he murmured as he ran his hand over her sides, caressing her smooth skin, “You are at the most damp, I’d say. Unless—” he said, grinning wickedly now, “unless you aren't telling me exactly where you are supposed to be…wet.”
“I—well, I—” She faltered when his hand snaked down, towards the waistband of her panties. She was so shocked she couldn't form any words. This was Colin! Colin Bridgerton. Her best friend’s older brother. Her supposed good friend. And now.. Now he was fingering the waistband of her panties. No! Not fingering. Slipping his hand inside her panties and dipping his finger into her warm, wet folds. And she was wet down there. Embarrassingly so! “Colin!” she protested weakly.
“Tell me, Pen. Did you plan this? Walking in here half-dressed, dripping wet, waiting for me to find you?”
She opened her mouth to protest, but the words tangled when his other hand skimmed down her back, pulling her closer still as he began grinding himself on her thigh.
“Because,” he drawled, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, “If you knew enticing me was this easy, you should’ve done it long ago.”
Penelope said nothing. Nothing to stop him and break this fever dream. Because this could only happen in dreams, right?
His lips crushed against hers, and Penelope gasped, fingers clutching at his bare shoulders as if she might drown without the anchor of him. The kiss was searing, insistent, the kind that stole all thought and left nothing but sensation.
She melted into it, into him, into the solid heat of his chest against her damp bra. Her body betrayed her with how eagerly she pressed closer, how quickly her hands slid around his neck, how willingly her mouth parted for him.
Colin pulled back just enough to look at her with a wicked smile. “You’re enjoying this far too much,” he murmured.
Her cheeks flamed, but she didn’t move away. If anything, she arched against him, defiant and desperate at once. He kissed her again, rougher this time, his tongue tangling with hers, his hands roaming her damp skin with a hunger that made her knees weak. She clung to him, matching his fervour, tasting every ounce of the longing he’d kept hidden until now.
Colin pressed her back against the dryer with a thud, his mouth devouring hers, his hands roaming everywhere at once as if he couldn’t decide where to touch first. His hand slid to the clasp at her back, and for a heartbeat he paused, giving her a chance to stop him. She didn’t. Instead, she arched into him, a breathless plea escaping her lips. That was all the permission he needed.
The next moment her bra was gone, and Colin made a guttural sound as he drank her in.
“Do you have any idea,” he ground out, nuzzling his nose in the valley of her breasts, “how many times I had to take myself in hand as a teenager, just because of you? Because you’d show up at the Bridgerton pool in some ridiculous little bikini, and I’d—” He bit back a groan. “I nearly went mad wanting to fuck you.”
Her eyes went wide, a flush climbing high on her cheeks. For a moment, she looked stunned. Then, with a shaky breath, she whispered, “You weren’t the only one. I used to… touch myself thinking about you. About your chest, your curly hair, and … specifically your chest hair. The way you looked when you got out of the pool.”
He crashed his mouth against hers again, rougher, needier, his hands tangling in her hair as if he couldn’t bear a single inch of space between them.
“Christ, Pen,” he rasped against her lips, kissing her again and again, dragging his mouth lower in desperate, frantic hunger. “You’re going to make me come in my pants if you keep on the filthy talk.”
Her head snapped back, startled. Filthy talk? She’d only confessed what she’d thought about him. It was hardly filthy, in her mind. “But I didn’t…” she breathed.
He lifted his head, his eyes blazing. “Pen, whatever you say, anything, it feels filthy in the best way. Feels like temptation itself. Fuck, you turn me on so much, baby.” His voice cracked, raw with need. He pressed his forehead to hers, teeth clenched as though holding himself back hurt. “I’m going to…God, I’m going to fuck you so hard, baby.”
Her pulse hammered in her throat. She fisted the fabric of his sweatpants and yanked him closer, her eyes dark with determination, lips trembling but sure. “Then do it.”
Colin pushed her panties down, then freed his cock from his ratty sweatpants, and drove into her with one brutal thrust, swallowing her cry with his mouth. The dryer rattled beneath her, vibrations humming through her back as his hips slammed into hers again and again.
“God, you’re so wet already,” he groaned against her neck, teeth sinking into her skin before he soothed the bite with his tongue. “Like your body’s begging for me before I’ve even given it to you properly.”
Penelope clutched his shoulders, rocking up to meet every deep, merciless thrust. He went on and on for a few minutes when Penelope gasped out, need building inside her. “Colin—please—I need to—”
He cut her off with a sharp snap of his hips, knocking the breath out of her. His hand fisted in her hair, dragging her head back so she had to look at him. “No. You don’t get to come until I’m done with you. You’ll wait. You’ll take me until I’ve had my fill, and then you can scream my name when I let you.”
She whimpered, desperately nodded, grinding her hips for more friction. He only laughed darkly, pushing her down flat against the dryer so he could suck her nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue before biting down just hard enough to make her cry out.
“Every sound you make goes straight to my cock, Pen.” he rasped, pulling back to slam into her harder, deeper. “But I’m being patient, and you’ll be patient with me. You’ll stay on that edge until I decide to tip you over.”
Her nails raked down his back, frantic, her voice broken. “Colin, I can’t—please, baby—”
“Yes, you can,” he growled, lips dragging across her collarbone, marking her with his teeth. “You’re going to hold it for me. You’re going to let me ruin this pretty body until it doesn’t know what it wants except more of me.”
Each thrust shoved her closer, her thighs trembling, her body wound so tight she thought she might shatter. He felt it too as his hand gripped her hip, forcing her to take him deeper, his mouth claiming her breast again.
At last, his voice was a low command against her skin, when he felt her flutter around his cock “Now, Pen. Come for me. Make a mess of me.”
Her release tore through her like a shockwave, her body clenching around him so violently he cursed, hugging her waist, locking her against him as the dryer rattled them both apart.
Penelope was still quaking from the force of her orgasm when Colin’s hand clamped on her hip, pinning her to the dryer. She expected him to soften, to relent, maybe cum himself, but he only ground deeper into her, still hard, still throbbing inside her.
“Don’t think you’re finished,” he murmured, lips brushing her ear as his teeth caught her lobe. “I’m not letting you off this machine until you give me another.”
Her eyes widened, chest heaving. “What? Colin— I can’t—”
“You can. You will.” His hips snapped forward, forcing a ragged moan from her throat. “This cunt belongs to me. And I want to feel it clamp down around me again before I give you my cum.”
The dryer buzzed beneath her spine, rattling with every thrust he drove into her. She tried to squirm, but his hand on her stomach held her in place, his weight pressing her down. He lowered his mouth to her breast again, sucking hard, teeth scraping her nipple until she arched helplessly against him.
“Look at you,” he groaned, pulling back just enough to watch her face. “Already trembling, already desperate for me to let you break. You’re going to do it again, Pen. You’re going to gush all over my cock for the second time while I’m still inside you.”
Her nails clawed his back, her thighs clamping around him. The overstimulation burned, but the friction, the filthy command in his voice, had her body betraying her. Her cries grew higher, breath catching as his relentless pace shoved her straight into another spiral.
“That’s it,” he growled, fucking her through it, holding her down as her walls convulsed around him. “Take it. Give it to me. Milk me like you’re meant to.”
She shattered again, body locking tight. She sagged against the dryer, chest rising and falling in frantic bursts, her body limp with the aftershocks. She thought surely, surely he would let her rest.
But Colin only shifted his grip, hauling her back up against his chest without ever pulling out. Still hard. Still thick. Still inside her.
Her eyes fluttered open, dazed. “Colin…That’s it! I can’t—please, I want to but I don't think I can now—”
His laugh was low and dark in her ear as his hips rolled slow and deep, reminding her how full she still was. “Oh, sweetheart, you can. You will. You’ve got years of overdue orgasms to give me, Pen. Tell me, baby, how do you think we’ll ever catch up before we get married?”
Married??
Her lips parted in a strangled gasp as he dragged himself out almost entirely, then slammed back to the hilt, the dryer groaning beneath the force. Her hands clawed at his shoulders, torn between pushing him away and clinging tighter.
“You’re wrung out,” he murmured, biting along her jaw, “but your body’s greedy. Look how it grips me, begging for more even while you’re crying you can’t take it. Don’t lie to me, Pen—you need it.”
Another thrust, harder, sharper, had her head tipping back on a broken moan. He latched onto her breast, sucking until she writhed, then snapped his hips again, faster now, chasing the sounds spilling from her throat.
“Give me another,” he demanded, voice a ragged growl. “Cum for me, even if it hurts. Cum for me until you can’t remember your own name. That’s how we’ll catch up. That’s how I’ll make sure you’re mine. Your body, soul, every fucking inch of you.”
The overstimulation tore through her, unbearable and exquisite all at once, until her body betrayed her again, clenching, pulsing, shuddering violently around him. She sobbed his name, and Colin snarled in triumph, pinning her down with brutal thrusts until she convulsed helplessly around his cock for the—god knows which—time. She had lost count now!
By now Colin too was spent, as he let go, his thrusts had lost their steady rhythm, turning into wild, urgent rutting. He slammed into her again and again, the machine rattling beneath them with every brutal snap of his hips.
Penelope could feel it—his cock twitching deep inside her, his breath ragged, every groan torn from his chest. He was close, so close, and yet he refused to give in without dragging her with him.
“Come with me again,” he growled, his voice raw with need. His hand slid between them, rough fingers finding her clit, rubbing circles around it in fast and relentless motion. “One more, Pen. I want you milking me when I spill inside you.”
Her body jerked, overstimulated nerves screaming as his touch circled her swollen bud. She gasped his name, back arching, only for his mouth to capture her lips again, sucking hard, teeth teasing until her muffled cries dissolved into helpless sobs.
The combination of his cock pounding into her, the vibration of the dryer, his ruthless fingers rubbing her nub, the wicked tug of his mouth was enough to push her over the edge once more, her release tearing through her body with brutal force. She convulsed around him, clutching his shoulders, nails digging deep.
Colin snarled against her mouth, hips driving hard, relentless, until his control finally shattered. He buried himself to the hilt, cock twitching violently as his own climax crashed into him, spilling hot and thick ropes of cum inside her just as the dryer gave its final buzz and clicked to a stop, playing the inbuilt musical ding.
The silence afterwards was deafening, broken only by their ragged breathing. Colin stayed buried into her, but he was softened now, chest pressed to hers, sweat-slick and trembling with aftershocks. He kissed her throat, murmuring hoarsely, “That’s how we’ll catch up, Pen. Every time. Until there’s no part of you that doesn’t know I’m yours.”
Penelope giggled, breathless and sticky against him. Then suddenly her mind replayed one prominent moment from their tryst. “What was that bit about marrying me?” she asked, voice small with a grin.
Colin pulled her closer to his body, palm splayed warm over her hip as if she was bound to bolt soon. “Oh…yeah. Now that I know you love me too, I can’t let you marry someone else, can I?”
Penelope blinked, confusion and something softer blooming at the edges. “Wait. You love me? So this is not just… lust for you?”
He tipped his head, suddenly vulnerable. “Is it for you?”
She flushed, heat flaring in more than one place. “No…!”
He chuckled in relief, a short, pleased sound that made her toes curl. “So that’s settled then. You’re moving in next week, now that I’ve got a job here, I will be around all the time. It makes sense that we live together.”
“Colin Bridgerton!” she squealed, half scandalised, half delighted. “Everything’s happening so fast. Can we follow the proper sequence of events? Dating, ring, engagement, ceremony, vows?”
He kissed the corner of her mouth sloppily. “Proper sequence, huh? And what about the wasted years? How will we ever catch up, baby?”
Her hands found the scruff at the base of his neck and tugged him down until their foreheads met. “You can’t just bulldoze my life, you know.”
He softened, thumb tracing lazy circles on her wrist. “I’m not bulldozing. I’m rearranging the bits that matter. We can put the ring on your finger when you want. I’ll stand at every bloody event in a suit and behave like a gentleman. But the evenings, and the mornings, and the nights in between…that’s mine to make up for.”
Penelope huffed a laugh that melted into a yawn. The dryer’s hum was gone. The room smelled of soap and sex and him. “You are incorrigible.”
“And you are stubborn in the best way,” he murmured. He nudged his forehead to hers, voice suddenly earnest. “I love you, Pen. Not just this. Not just now. I’ve loved you in more than one way for longer than either of us can remember, and I’ll spend everyday making sure you know that.”
She searched his face, the fierceness there, the gentleness underneath. “Right then. Move in next week,” she conceded at last, mischief curling back into her smile, “but only because you promised to wear a tie to the wedding.”
He pretended to consider. “I will wear a tie. I will also make sure you’re spoiled, laugh at your terrible jokes, and never let anyone take you from me. I will make sure you will always feel safe with me, enough to keep choosing whatever you wish to do in life. Tie on, suit on, and after that…well, we’ll catch up on every single overdue minute.”
She laughed properly then, a bright, relieved sound. “Deal.”
He kissed her again, softer this time, hands gentle as he eased himself, still inside, tucking her close. “Good. Now get some rest, Mrs Bridgerton-in-waiting. We’ve got a lifetime to be reckless together.”
Penelope snuggled into him. “Best plan I’ve ever heard,” she murmured, then realised she was supposed to show up at work an hour ago.
“Bloody hell! I’m late for work.”
“Call in dead!”
“Colin!”
“What? Death by orgasm is a thing!”
-The end-