"Mm-hmm," she sighs, grinding small circles on my lap.
My touch drags up and down her thighs, and she goes from pleased to pouty in a nanosecond. "Tease me another time, Sailor. Right now, I'm dying for you to touch me."
I capture her mouth. "Touch you where?"
Her fingers come over mine on her thigh, stopping me from making yet another pass. She pushes down, sliding my palm over the inside of her thigh. "Here," she whispers, gliding my fingers up until they meet the silk of that white thong I saw her in earlier. "Remember when you threatened to fuck the ring off my finger?" She grins fiendishly, holding up her bare left hand. "You managed it."
The sight of it sends me into some other realm, one where Vikings sail the seas and wear clothing made of fur. Swiftly, I haul her thong aside and plunge two fingers inside her. She gasps, tightening around me. "You're fucking right I did. You're mine, Daisy. My lady. And the next time you wear a ring, it's going to be from me." I curl my fingers and she leans forward, panting in my ear. "Yes," she breathes.
"Now, let's go inside before your neighbors take one of their nosy-ass strolls."
"They're all at my wedding reception," she huffs, hips moving with the motion of my fingers.
"Still," I say, moving my touch from her. She sulks, and it makes me smile. "Nobody gets to see you lose your mind except me. And I'm not taking chances."
Daisy returns to her seat, rights her dress, and leaves the truck. I hurry after her, placing my hands in my pockets and pushing out on the fabric, giving my throbbing erection room to breathe. Daisy looks down as she is putting the key in the lock, and discovers what I'm doing. "I'm going to take care of that," she says, turning the key.
We make it inside in a civilized manner, but after that, all bets are off. She pushes me against the door, fumbling with my belt. It resists, but Daisy is persistent. She smiles up at me when it gives way, followed by the button of my jeans, and finally thezipper. "My prize for all that work," she rasps, sinking to her knees.
She drags warm breath across me, teeth skating. An anticipatory hum sings from my lips as I watch her. She iseverything. Everything that is good, and beautiful. My fingers run into her hair, cradle her head, stroke her jaw.
Too soon, I'm telling her to stop, offering her a hand. She takes it, wipes at her eyes. "Someday soon, that will be something I do when you least expect it. And it will be to completion."
"And I will love it," I promise, trying not to think of that nebulous moment in the future. "But now, I want you in a bed." Then I bend and scoop her up, tossing her over my shoulder and smacking her ass on the way to her bedroom.
We make it to her bed, and I tug her dress over her shoulders. "You," I point an accusatory finger at her. "Turn over."
She already knows what I'm after. "Like this?" she asks, flipping around, sticking her thonged ass in the air.
I slip a finger under the tight fabric, running it across her skin. "You knew what you were doing to me."
"Played you like a fiddle," she boasts.
I grunt a laugh. "Not for the first time."
Those ripped jeans...that wet T-shirt...the hood of my truck.
I bend down, pull the fabric aside, and press a kiss to her. She arches, my name rolling through her like the tide. "Shh," I murmur, wrapping my hands around her thighs to keep her locked in place. "The name chanting can begin in approximately two minutes."
And it does. I hold her tight while she falls apart. Safe in my arms. Always.
"My muscles are useless," she says, sinking into the bed. Still, she manages to roll over. I drag the thong down her legs, ridding myself of my clothes in the time it takes her to pop up on herelbows and shed the strapless bra. Her knees fall open, and she reaches up, trailing her fingers over my scars. I've never told her what that does to me, how it makes me feel.
"I like when you do that."
"I love everything that made you the person you are today. Scars and all."
I grip myself in my left arm. My Daisy arm. "Sunshine," I groan, dragging myself up her, circling at the top, gliding back down. Daisy's chest moves faster, her stomach tightening.
"Bare," she says. "Need to feel you."
"Birth control?"
She nods.
I notch in. She exhales. "All of it," she encourages.
When I'm fully seated, I lie down over her. I kiss the valley between her breasts, her collarbone, her neck. Her legs wrap around my waist, heels digging into my ass. Her fingernails scrape my back, drag up through my hair.
