“Beautiful.”
Daisy’s lips parted on a soft exhale, and her nipples tightened to hard points under his praise.
He bent over her slowly, bracing one hand beside her head while the other traced a path from her collarbone to the swell of her breast. Such impossibly soft skin.
When he murmured against her throat, “ You’re shaking,” she shivered beneath his palm.
“I can’t help it.”
Grazing his teeth across her fluttering pulse—not hard enough to bruise, but enough to make her gasp—he smiled.
Her hips lifted instinctively, eagerly seeking friction that wasn’t there. His mouth traced lower, following the graceful line of her throat to the hollow between her collarbones as his fingers teased her flat stomach.
He might not be able to bear her touch, but she was going to come to expect his. He breathed in her scent, licked and nipped at the places she was most sensitive. Every breath, gasp, and delicate moan affirmed she was enjoying his touch.
When his lips closed around her nipple, she cried out.
The sound shot straight to his groin, but he channeled the ache into focus. Into precision. He drew the tight bud deeper into his mouth, tongue swirling, teeth grazing just enough to make her writhe. Her back arched off the mattress.
“Jack…”
He switched to her other breast, lavishing the neglected peak with the same torturous attention. She was so responsive, every touch amplified, every sensation written across her face. The flutter of her lashes when he sucked harder, the way her breath stuttered when his teeth teased her sensitive flesh, the unconscious roll of her hips searching for relief.
He let her wanting build.
His free hand slid down her stomach, feeling the muscles jump and flutter beneath his palm. He paused at her navel, circling it lazily while his mouth continued its worship.
“Please,” she whimpered.
“Please, what?” He needed to hear her say it.
“I want…you to touch me.”
“I am touching you.
“Touch me there, Jack. Please.”
The desperation in her voice nearly undid him. Flushed and trembling, arms stretched above her head, chest heaving with shallow breaths, she looked thoroughly undone, and he’d barely begun.
“Here?” His fingers drifted lower, brushing through the soft curls but stopping just short of where she needed him.
“Lower.”
“Here?” His knuckles grazed her smooth lips, feather-light and maddening.
“Jack.” His name was a sob.
He rewarded her patience by sinking one finger between her folds.
The tight, slick heat that greeted him made his vision swim. She was molten silk, drenched with wanting, and his finger glided through her folds like a blade through warm honey. Her hips bucked against his hand, chasing friction, and he let her ride the sensation while he circled her entrance with aching patience.
“So wet,” he murmured against her breast, dragging his tongue across her nipple in time with the lazy stroke of his finger. “All of this, just from my hands on you?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
He notched his fingertip at her opening, mindful of her inexperience but unclear what that actually meant. “Daisy.” He kissed her shoulder reverently. “Have you done this before?”
The flush that swept across her chest answered before her words.
