CHAPTER 170: EMBARRASSED (2)

Warning! Mature content.

"Tyrion, this is a bit," Penelope said, not knowing the right words to describe their current predicament.

Penelope couldn’t bring herself to look up because of the mirror on the dressing drawer right before them.

They already had each other once, but just when Penelope thought they would stop before their food turned cold, Tyrion turned her to face the mirror, revealing her current state.

"Embarrassed?" Tyrion asked, his hands securing her waist.

By now, he had perfectly memorised her body. His hands outlined the shape of her body.

Whilst Penelope was busy trying to avoid looking into the mirror, Tyrion didn’t miss anything from their reflection. He wanted Penelope to see how they looked during their intimate moments.

Tyrion looked down at where their bodies slapped against each other, filling the room with an obvious noise of what they were doing. It was mixed with Penelope’s voice, the whispers of her name leaving Tyrion’s lips, and the rattling of the very dressing drawer Penelope was holding onto for dear life.

Penelope didn’t answer.

She was partly too embarrassed to see her current state, but the small glimpse she got hadn’t left her mind. It was erotic.

Penelope was momentarily tired, but seeing just how they looked now lit a new fire of how much she wanted him.

"Penelope," she heard.

It was like a scolding since she hadn’t answered.

What was she to say?

Even the sound of the drawer shaking because of them made her want to close her legs because of the feeling that followed, but she couldn’t. Not when Tyrion was standing right behind her, thrusting himself into her again and again without failure.

Tyrion didn’t like Penelope to fight her feelings, so he stopped moving. It was torture for him, but not like what he imagined it was for her.

"If you won’t be honest, then I won’t give you what you want," Tyrion said, his hands still resting on her waist.

"Tyrion, now is not the time for you to be doing this," Penelope said, her voice shaky.

"Then let me hear your voice. It is all that I ask," Tyrion said, helping her to stand.

He smiled, enamoured by the sound she made when she rested back against him.

Tyrion held her chin so she couldn’t look away from the mirror. There wasn’t anything to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. This was simply a husband and a wife enjoying themselves.

"I know that you enjoy it here, Penelope. I am your husband. It is not wrong for you to indulge yourself with such desires when you are with me. I love it," Tyrion said, wishing she had a necklace to decorate her body with.

Now that she saw their reflection, Penelope couldn’t look away.

What made matters worse was Tyrion’s hands going down to her neck to give it a little squeeze, which she liked, right as he kissed her.

Penelope was on her tippy toes to be able to stand with him.

"All you have to do is speak, and I will make love to you again. As many times as you desire," Tyrion said, waiting for her call.

Penelope noticed the muscles on Tyrion’s arm. His veins were showing like he was restraining himself far too long.

Penelope bit her lip before saying, "I like it. Tyrion!"

Penelope couldn’t help the high-pitched gasp which left her voice when Tyrion moved unexpectedly. She was looking directly at the mirror, so not only did she see Tyrion, but she saw her face.

If possible, while she stood, it felt like her toes were curling.

Beads of sweat trickled down the side of Penelope’s face. Her fingers dug at the wood of the dressing drawer to the point her nails made scratches as her hands moved.

His hand was still at her neck, but his hold wasn’t tight enough to hurt her. It was something she wouldn’t have ever considered that she would like.

Penelope didn’t have an explanation for what Tyrion did to her.

"W-Wait," Penelope stuttered, her voice hoarse.

Tyrion smiled. "It’s not like you to fold so easily."

Still, Tyrion noticed that Penelope was having trouble balancing herself, so with his left hand on her back, he nudged her forward to make better use of the dressing drawer once more.

Despite her change in stance, Penelope didn’t look away from the mirror. She was hypnotised by the sight of them.

"Tyrion," his name left her lips in a sweet cry.

Penelope was very close. That familiar feeling built up each time he buried himself inside of her. Her voice sometimes caught in her throat.

"Tyrion."

Penelope had finished before him with Tyrion close behind her.

No matter how much Tyrion made love to Penelope, he never grew tired of her. Not now, and he was certain he wouldn’t grow tired of her in the future.

Penelope relaxed after she felt Tyrion spill his seed inside of her. He continued a slow rhythm as he filled her with all that she could hold.

Penelope caught her breath for a moment, her gaze moving from the table for a moment, before looking back at Tyrion.

They had spoiled the poor drawer.

Tyrion’s hair was a mess, mostly thanks to her. Some of it covered his eyes, but Tyrion was quick to rake his hair back. It was strange how much more handsome he had become from a simple action.

Penelope shuddered when he was no longer inside of her, but the second he pulled out of her, Penelope turned around.

Penelope poked his chest and took a step forward as she pushed him toward the bed. She wasn’t done yet. He had lit a fire which wouldn’t go out so easily.

Tyrion was at Penelope’s mercy. He fell back on the bed, and Penelope was not far away to settle herself on top of him.

He was nervous yet excited at the same time.

"Well, this is a nice surprise," Tyrion said, anticipating what Penelope had planned for him.

"Nervous?" Penelope asked, leaning forward to grab Tyrion’s hand and placing it over his head, her chest in his vision. "You should be. You are right that I shouldn’t be so shy around you, but I can’t help it. You make me lose my resolve when you hold me, and I don’t mind. Only you could make me feel this way."

Penelope let go of Tyrion’s hands, but he was respectful not to move them. Penelope could bet on him not to move his hands unless she told him to.

"Tomorrow, when you return from the palace, I expect to see you in your most dashing uniform to please me as you promised. For now, I will have you like this."