“Yes?”
She moans. “Please. Let me come on your cock.”
“Only,” I pant on a thrust, “if you stay here with me. No closing your eyes or escaping somewhere else. Look at me while you come.” I rest one hand on her collarbone, creating more pressure as her body envelops me.
“I don’t know…” She pants and presses a gentle kiss to my wrist. “I don’t know if I can control that.”
“Try. Will you try for me?”
I hold her gaze, all heat and thrill. IknowDaisy. I’ve looked into her amber eyes since I was a kid. But we have something new between us now.
She nods her head. “For you.”
Daisy wraps her arms around my neck, and we’re studying the minute indications of pleasure in the other person. Her mouth falls open with shallow, quick breaths, and her pupils are wide, endless drops.
“Max.”
“I’m right here. It’s just you and me, Daze.”
She tightens around me, pulsing with pleasure, and that chokehold makes me come undone. My entire body pulses with the sheer satisfaction of the release, but my eyes remain locked on her. Daisy lingers in bliss with me, crying out, and she’s more raw and more gorgeous than I’ve ever seen her before. As we both settle into the aftershocks, she sinks closer to me.
“Coming with you is…” I search for the right description.
“Fucking amazing?”
I laugh. She lifts one strap back onto her shoulder and I manage the other, enjoying how her contented, unhurried movements give me more time to take in her softness.
“Here.” She reaches into the back abyss of the truck, producing a plastic bag for me to drop the condom in. I swear she watches my every move as I tug my pants on.
“We should go.”
I glance around at the sparse number of cars. “When’s the garage close?”
“It’s twenty-four hours. But you mentioned my bed. And kitchen counter. And shower.”
I reel her in for a kiss. Against her lips, I ask, “How quick can you get us there?”
The next few days pass in a haze of sex with Daisy, sleep, waking up beside her, work, and then repeating the cycle. When I go to meet my sister for thrift shopping on the weekend, I’m in a blissfully exhausted state.
“You should call Mom and Dad sometime.” Ava throws on an enormous cowboy hat and examines herself in one of the store’s mirrors. After a beat, she shakes her head and trades it for a beret. “They keep asking about you. It’s annoying.”
“Work’s kept me busy.” So has Daisy, I don’t add. I clear my throat. “They, of all people, should understand.”
“They’re not as bad as they used to be. Like with schedules and stuff.”
I scour the clothing racks of sunglasses andhmin acknowledgement. My parents never embraced a healthy work-life balance, but once Ava was old enough to make memories, they backed off at the firm. No use in regaling her about the days the nanny would wake me up for school and end with her tucking me in. They’re better now because I was never theirpriority the way Ava is. I don’t know what switched, but I blame them, not Ava.
“Oooh what about this?” She grabs a floral top off the rack, holding the fabric against her body. “I love this.”
“Them’s ’gainst the rules,” I say with a forced drawl.
“Fine.” She frowns and examines the shirt in her hands. “I still want to buy it, though.”
During high school, I got my first part-time job at this exact shop. The place sells all kinds of strange finds and has been appropriately designed like an alien spaceship. My parents appreciated me becoming a responsible and productive member of society—their words, not mine—but they didn’t view a retail job in a saucer-shaped thrift store as respectable.
I loved it, though, because I got to sift through the wacky treasures people tossed, which were art in themselves. The manager gave me first dibs on donated painting and drawing materials, too. Combined with the modest income, that meant less grumbling from my parents while checking out at the art supply store. My discount also let me come up with this silly after-school activity with Ava—blindly choosing ridiculous outfits and then grabbing something to eat at the diner down the block. A decent portion of my paycheck ended up right back here, but I didn’t mind.
Ava strolls to the end of the pants section and smiles wide, one hand on the hangers and eyes squeezed shut as she walks. Once she reaches the middle, somewhere around a cluster of especially heinous prints, I tell her to stop. Her hand lifts the hanger from the rack, and she peers at it, pulling a face.
