She gestures down the corridor with a grin, her bottom lip pulling between her teeth. “Are you going to fuck me, uptight Eddie?”
“I’m going to ignore that Eddie reference. And yes, I’m going to fuck you.” My thumb brushes idly across the back of her hand. “But it’s been a while. You’ll need to be patient.”
Her smirk widens. “Don’t worry, it’s just like riding a bike, right?”
I arch a brow.
“Thenyou,” I murmur against her ear, “are the most exquisite bike I’ve ever had the pleasure of riding.”
Her sharp intake of breath is gratifying.
I follow her down the hallway, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. The reality of what’s about to happen makes my pulse thunder.
She leads me into her bedroom, and the door clicks shut behind us. The space is so distinctly Daisy—warm, inviting, cluttered in a way that feels effortlessly lived-in. Crystals litter the bedside table, catching the dim light. I don’t believe in any of it, but I know she does.
Before I can take it all in, she turns, palms flat against my chest, guiding me backward until my legs hit the edge of the bed. I lose my balance, falling back onto the mattress with a surprised chuckle. And then—she’s on me, thighs straddling my lap, the heat of her core pressing intimately against me.
“Daisy . . .” I hesitate, looking up at her, my hands resting against her bare thighs. This is unfamiliar ground. “I haven’t been with anyone since Millie. I’m . . . out of practice. Considerably so.”
She goes still, her body hovering just above mine. Her hands settle on my shoulders, anchoring herself as she leans in. “Why are you telling me this?” she asks softly.
I let out a heavy breath, honest to a fault in this moment. “Because I’m worried I won’t last. Not with you. Jesus, Daisy. Just look at you.”
She bites her bottom lip, and for the first time tonight, she looks almost . . . shy. It’s uncharacteristic, and it does something to me.
“Come on,” she murmurs. “You see women prettier than me all the time.”
“It’s not just about how you look. There’s something about you. You carry a spark no one else has.” My thumb grazes the skin of her hip. “Youglow, Daisy. You make everything around you feel . . .alive.”
And it’s the truth. It feels disloyal—disrespectful, even—to Millie. But in this moment, I can’t deny it.
Her lips curve into a soft smile. “That’s sweet.”
I lift a brow. “Iamcapable of it, you know.”
With a teasing grin, she grabs the hem of her top and tugs it over her head, shaking out her glossy brown hair, strands falling messily around her flushed face. Her fingers make quick work of the clasp at her waist, lifting her hips just enough to shove her skirt down, wriggling it past her thighs before flinging it on the floor.
She’s bare before me.
Straddling me.
I let out a guttural sound at the sight of her breasts. The kind of gorgeous, decadent fullness that begs to be worshipped. Touched. Tasted.
“My god,” I rasp.
“You’re quite the groaner tonight, aren’t you?” she teases, “You’re usually far more articulate.”
My hands find her breasts, palming them, rolling her already achingly tight nipples between my fingers. Her breath hitches, her spine arching, pressing herself further into my hands.
“You’re exquisite,” I murmur, my voice hoarse.
An understatement. An insult, really, for the goddess in my lap, but my command of language has evidently deserted me.
I slide my palm between her legs, trailing my fingers along the heat of her. She’s soaked.
With a low moan, she lifts herself, rolling her hips into my hand, riding my fingers with abandon. Her wet cunt clenches around my fingers, andgod help me, I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my life.
“Daisy,” I groan. “You’re going to give a man a bloody heart attack.”
