"to burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves."
- Federico García Lorca
Staying out of trouble is not Frank Castle's strong suit. But is Jenavieve Howlett more trouble than The Punisher can handle...
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"now let your mind do the walking and let my body do the talking." - World in My Eyes, AG
╳
Pete lets me into his hotel room, shutting the door behind me.
I take off my jacket and he hangs it up on the back of the door while I kick off my boots and step slowly into the dimly lit room, my hands silently patting my thighs. I turn back to him and we smile bashfully at each other.
We both know why we're here, but now we are here, we're almost shy.
Pete gets us drinks from the mini fridge.
"I don't make a habit of this.. I just want you to know that.." I comment, looking down at the little drink in my hand.
"I don't make a habit of this either. So.." Pete replies quietly.
We look at each other as we both laugh under our breaths.
"We're really good at this, huh?" I quip.
He chuckles and nods, before downing his drink.
I reach up and take the glass from his hands, and after placing both our glasses down on the dresser, I step closer to Pete.
Looking up at him, I watch as his eyes morph from amusement to arousal, and my shyness disappears. The eye contact he's giving is liberating. I feel seen. And not as a weapon. Or a tool, a pawn, a monster, a freak. But as a human. As a woman. And according to his responsiveness, an attractive woman.
"Show me." I whisper, moving even closer, our faces now inches apart. "Show me why I'm here, Pete." His eyes darken as they flick between my eyes and my mouth. "Show me everything you want to show me."
At that, our lips are reunited.
He's like a first bite of food after being starved all my life..
My hands go straight to his face while his hands go to my hips. His tongue asks for entrance and I accept it immediately, greeting it with my own. A soft moan escapes me at the succulence of his mouth.
His hands move to the back of my neck, his thumbs pressing the corners of my jaw while his fingers press gently into my nape.
I wrap my arms around his neck, bringing my body flush against his. And good God, if the bulge pressing under my naval is any indication, he's hung.
Pete's fingers leave my neck, snaking into my hair, and when we finally break apart for air, he rests his forehead against mine.
I caress his face, running my thumb over his bottom lip as he strokes his index finger down my cheek.
Then he hooks a finger in my waistband and pulls me closer again.
His fingers play with the hem of my top, and he leans back, looking into my eyes while he pulls the thin fabric up over my head. He drops it onto the floor and I grab his face, pulling his lips back to mine, while his hands explore the skin of my back.
