He was painfully hard, the engorged head of his swollen cock slick with need. He fisted his thick length, his body straining for relief.
She kept her eyes closed as he lay alongside her naked body, his clothes blocking him from feeling her beautiful skin. His other hand settled on her inner thigh—still slippery with her arousal—needing the contact, needing the reminder that this was shared. “Is this okay?”
“Yes.”
He stared at her mouth as his fist tightened around his length, and he stroked in earnest. Slow at first, so as not to startle her. But those long, deliberate pulls made his hips thrust. His fist moved faster, and a groan escaped.
He fingered her slowly, sliding her cream through his fingers, then switching hands so he could feel her slick arousal sliding over him.
“Are you looking at me, Jack?”
“Yes.” The word was barely human.
“Are you pretending it’s my hand touching you? My mouth? Your cock where your fingers are?”
“Fuck,” he gasped.
His hips thrust as he fucked his fist. It wasn’t enough. He leaned into her, dragging the tip of his dick along her thigh. Soft. Luscious. God, she was drenched.
His breath came faster. His clothes rustled with every shift. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, breathing her in as his hand worked faster.
Her scent surrounded him. Her warmth bled through layers of tailored wool. He was still armored, still suited, still technically untouched, but he’d never been more exposed in his life.
“I’m close,” he groaned against her throat.
“Don’t stop.” Her voice was so gentle. So sure. “I want to feel it, Jack. Can you give that to me?”
Permission.
His rhythm turned frantic. Graceless. Desperate. He pressed harder against her thigh, slicking himself through the wet mess of her arousal. His body shuddered. He couldn’t breathe.
“Daisy, Christ, I’m…”
A ragged sob tore from his throat as his release ripped out of him, erasing thought, erasing shame, erasing everything but the pulse of pleasure she stirred. White-hot heat spilled across her thighs, marking her skin, ruining his suit.
He didn’t care.
She gasped, breathing as hard as he.
Aftershocks shook him from head to toe. His forehead pressed to her shoulder, breath sawing in and out of his lungs while his heart threatened to beat through his ribs.
He looked down in awe, hand trembling, fingers pressed deep inside of her, his cum dripping over her thighs. He had to concentrate to loosen his grip, and when he did, he dragged his release up her thigh and fed it into her.
Her moan was otherworldly. Her back arched, and she welcomed his touch with blind trust. “That’s me inside of you,” he whispered, stroking as deep as his fingers could fit.
Broken sobs filled the air. He withdrew his fingers and rubbed her sensitive bud, working every inch of his release into her skin.
When she came apart, her cries were raw and unashamed. The moment he tucked himself away, she opened her eyes and looked at him.
Not with pity. Not with disgust. Just warmth, soft and wondering, crinkling the corners of her eyes.
“Hi,” she said.
A broken laugh escaped him, the sound foreign to his own ears. “Hi.”
She bit her lip, color rising in her cheeks despite everything they’d just done.
He scooted closer, resting his head on her chest where she lovingly threaded her fingers through his hair. She didn’t grab or pull. She only stroked. Soothing and tender.
