Daisy lit up like a firework. She could feel a certain manly part of his body right now, against her inner thigh.
“Show me,” she whispered.
He took her mouth, and he wrapped his arms around her, bringing her closer to the edge.
“It would be my pleasure,” he said against her mouth. “I will claim your heart, your body, and your soul. They are mine to keep. You will never doubt me again.”
She wouldn’t dare.
She wound her arms around his neck, their chests crushed together in the heat of their embrace. He scooped her hips against his, and his hard body pressed against hers. Her skirts would go no higher.
She didn’t know what to do but let him lead. He explored her mouth with his tongue until it felt like he was drawing her breaths from her. Daisy clung to him, her body wild with the need to writhe and squirm, searching for sensation. He pulled her tighter, lifting her off the chair.
“Sam!” she cried out in warning. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
He nuzzled her neck as he lowered to his haunches, settling her on his lap. “Mm, I love the sound of my name on your lips. Never call me Alston again. I feel nothing but you in my arms, Daisy. Just pleasure. No pain. Nothing exists beyond you.”
Oh, how she wanted that to be true, but she was overly aware of her capacity to hurt him, and the room, the empty hearth, and the door that surely someone would knock on at any moment.
He pulled at her skirts, adjusting her, and the feel of his breeches, the fabric and buttons under her bare thighs stole the last of her wits. She forgot about everything but the hard ridge in his breeches.
She knew, in theory, what she was feeling. Growing up in the country, she was aware of the difference between males and females and how those parts interconnected for breeding. But he was not a bull. He was a man, and the way his hardness hit every sensitive nerve at the apex of her thighs was a revelation she could have never imagined. Every shift and movement sent dazzling sparks of pleasure down her legs. Daisy squirmed, unable to resist the delicious friction that tantalized and enthralled her.
“Yes, Daisy,” he said into the bend of her neck, where he placed hot kisses over her skin, teasing and tasting with his tongue.
This. She was starving for this. Touch, desire, frantic need. She had never known she was missing it until right now, with Sam laying the path for her to walk—no, run—into this new world of passion, need, and reckless desire.
His hand reached under her skirts, cupping her bottom, and he molded her to his length, nudging her hips in a rhythm she quickly took control of. The tension in her belly tightened, her eyes pinching shut as sparkles filled the black void and spread throughout her body.
Something amazing was happening to her. A transformation. It spread from her lower abdomen, through her torso, her arms, her legs, her muscles flexing in anticipation, working toward a precipice.
“Let go, Daisy. I can feel your need. Shatter for me. Let me love your body with mine.”
Daisy wrenched out a moan, her lungs filling with a tight breath as the crest broke, and she fell into a state of heavy bliss, her limbs trembling as euphoria unlike anything she’d ever felt pulsed through her body.
He held her down on his manhood, grinding against her, his breathing fractured and quick.
“Daisy,” he groaned, saying her name like an oath, a prayer, a promise. He buried his face in her shoulder and grunted, thrusting hard into the softness of her body that was now slick between her thighs.
“Sam,” Daisy whispered, her own voice raspy and sultry in a way she’d never heard it before. He gasped, his hold on her tightened, and his head slung back. He panted for breath, wincing with each inhale.
“Sam, your rib!”
He smiled. “I don’t give a damn about my rib right now.”
Daisy shook as the fever in her flesh faded. She studied him and the sated, relaxed lines of his face.
He straightened and Daisy moved to get off, but he held her still. “Where are you going?”
“We’re on the floor,” she said.
He came up to his knees, lifting her.
Daisy squeaked. “Sam! I am certain you should not be lifting me!”
He set her bottom on the chair, pushing her skirts back, and cool air touched her inner thighs and the damp place between. He looked down at her. Daisy held her breath and looked down.She’d seen her own body, but she’d never seen a man look at her body the way Sam did.
He touched her—there—his knuckles grazing her flesh. Just the brush of his fingers made her want more. She shivered and her thighs tensed. It felt so good. Sensitive, but good.
