Novels by Kudoz Penn

I don't answer. I don't know what to say to that level of dominance. I just turn in his arms to face him. He's already looking at me, his eyes dark and satisfied."Buenos dias, beautiful," he says. "That's how you wake me up?" I ask, my voice still raspy, half-laughing despite the mess between us.He kisses my forehead and nuzzles deeply into my hair. "I wanted to say goodbye properly.""You have a strange fucking way of saying goodbye."We lie there for a moment, the quiet returning to the room, though my heart is still racing."You're going today," I say softly.He's silent. That's how I know I'm right."Si. In the evening," he finally admits. "I have things to handle this morning.""How long will you be gone?" I ask, dread pooling in my stomach."Two, maybe three weeks," he says, his voice flat. "It might take longer."I nearly jump out of bed, the post-orgasm haze instantly vanishing. "That's too long," I say, my voice rising. "I can't be alone here for that long.""You won't be

The house is quiet. Too quiet. I haven't seen Silas since yesterday. I've been pacing the bedroom for hours, like a caged animal. I've rearranged the nightstand three times. I've even folded the clothes Silas left on the chair—something I never do, smoothing out the dark fabric just to have an excuse to touch something that belongs to him.I'm bored and restless. My skin feels tight, itching with anticipation. I'm counting the seconds until he comes back. I don't know what to do with myself. I hate the waiting. I hate the silence.I change the sheets. I don't know why. They're not dirty, but I need something to do to burn off this frantic energy. I strip the bed, wrestle with the heavy corners of the mattress, and smooth out the fresh wrinkles. I step back, breathing a little heavier. It looks perfect.I shower. The water is hot, punishingly hot. I stand under it for too long and let it scald my skin, letting the steam fill the massive glass. I think about him. I think about the dark,

I'm drifting somewhere between sleep and waking, the sheets tangled around my legs. The room is warm, and the silence feels thick, heavy with the early hour.Then I hear it. The bathroom door opens. Soft footsteps pad across the marble. I feel the mattress dip as he sits on the edge of the bed.I open my eyes. Silas is sitting there, his back to me, his shoulders wound tight like a coiled spring. The shower is still running, water pounding against the tiles like a warning drum, but he's not in it. He's just... sitting here. Staring at nothing. Steam drifts through the open door, curling around his damp skin, but he looks entirely cold.I just watch him for a moment before I sit up, reaching out. My hand touches his bare back. He flinches."Silas... Is everything alright?"He turns. His face is a mask, but his eyes—his eyes tell a different story. I've seen that look before. The look of a man holding something devastating back. The look of a man about to deliver bad news."I have to go

I lead him back to our suite. His other hand is on my back; it feels warm and comfy. The walk is long. Silent, but it’s not uncomfortable as the door closes behind us. He stops midway. “What do you want?” he asks; his voice is raw. He turns to face me. “I… I want to be touched.” I say, not sure where that audacity came from, but boy, I’m glad it came. “I want to be touched because you want to love me, not own me.” “I do, Carino. I want to love you.” “Then show me.” He steps closer. His thumb traces my lower lip. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “I can wait a little longer.” He squishes my hair“I’m not beautiful. I’m just me.” “That’s what makes you beautiful.” He leans in. Bites my lower lip and sucks on it. His mouth is on mine. He kisses me slowly, then deeply. His tongue searching. I can taste him–cigar, whiskey, and hunger sending fireworks in my brain.I lose myself, reaching for his shirt. I undo the buttons.He stops me. “Are you sure?” “Yes. I’m sure.”“Luca, if we

The hours after the confrontation with Silas felt too stretched. He left me alone with the truth. The photographs and years of watching. The receipts. Every version of me, pinned to a wall like a butterfly in a collection. I thought I would break. I thought I would fall apart. But I don’t. I just sit with it. I let it settle into my bones. But now I know. Now I see. More clearly. Silas didn’t save me from my father. He was waiting for me. Waiting until I was broken enough to need him. And I did need him, but not in a broken kinda way.I think about Tatiana. She’s fighting in her own way. I think about Elizabeth. She’s not the ice queen I thought she was. Who would have thought that this woman-who poked me with needles, made dress fittings traumatic, and called me broken and fragile would be this soft and even come to see me? She called me a stray. I still hold that against her. Who would have thought she and Tatiana…No. I’m not doing that to my mind. Nope. Not today. I think abou

I choke on the words. “He watched me cry myself to sleep. He watched me take pills to survive. He watched my father beat me. And he did nothing. He just… he just collected receipts.” I could feel the rage building. “Maybe he was waiting,” she says softly. “Waiting for the right moment until you were broken enough to probably need him. Then came father and the marriage for peace idea. No wonder he accepted almost immediately. It’s all making sense now. Damnn.” “How long?” I ask. “How long has this been going on? The pictures.” “Years. Since the night Enzo told on you, I think.”I remember that night. I remember everything that happened. The spit.The blood, shame. And he was there all along. Watching me. I was thirteen again. The dining room at home, the De Santis mansion. Enzo’s smug smile as he leans back in his chair. “Papa, did you know that Luca likes boys? I caught him looking at Carlos. The gardener’s son and touching his peewee.” The silence that follows is deafening. My fa