“You.”
She issued it like she wanted all of me, something I couldn’t give, and I struggled to tamp the need that pounded through my being.
“Never have seen anything like you before, Daisy Adair. Not in all the years since I left. Every horizon bleak until I caught sight of you. The sun breaking free of the clouds for the first time since that night.”
What the fuck was I saying? Admitting?
But she needed to know. She needed to know the beauty she emitted. Needed to know what she was worth.
Everything.
“Want to tear you apart and put you back together. Touch you. Please you. Show you that you are meant to be adored. A fucking treasure. I want to take care of you.” The last croaked from somewhere in my soul, like that part of me was trying to get to her, too.
“Touch me,” she whimpered, voice dazed.
Drunk on the lust and the remnants of the trauma that reeled and wound through the room.
“Is that what you need, my Little Wallflower? You need me to make you feel good?”
“Only you can.”
I edged forward, a masochist who couldn’t resist the connection that thrummed between us.
Propelled by the electricity that buzzed and blazed in the atmosphere.
I eased down onto the side of the bed beside her and leaned in close to her face as I let my fingertips tap a path up the inside of her right thigh.
Chills lifted on her flesh, and I inhaled the quivering breaths that wheezed from her lungs.
“Want to erase every bad memory from you. Erase every wrong and rewrite you in pleasure. Give it to you every fuckin’ day.”
Her hips arched from the bed. “Please.”
“You want it? The pleasure I have in store for you?”
Her nod was frantic. A garbled, incoherent plea from her sexpot mouth.
I nudged the fabric of her underwear aside.
Her pussy was spread wide. Swollen and pink.
My cock screamed. Wanting to get lost in all that luscious, hot flesh.
I brushed my fingers through her lips.
She jolted. “Yes.” The single word was thready.
“You like that?”
“Yes, I like it. So much,” she wheezed.
“Barely touchin’ you, and you’re already so spun up, I can feel this tight little body ready to blow.”
Daisy’s tongue swept out to wet her dried lips, her voice raspy when she admitted, “That’s what it feels like when I look at you. Like I’m being burned alive. Like I’m going to split apart.”
I brushed through her folds again, sweeping my fingers up to play with her engorged clit.
A needy mewl escaped her, and she dug her heels into the bed.
