"Daniela—"
"Let me." I looked up at him. "You said let me earlier. Same thing."
Something flickered in his eyes. He didn't stop me.
I pushed his jeans down and he stepped out of them and I took a moment to just—look. Because I had been thinking about this, specifically, since approximately Millie and Gage's wedding when he'd danced with me once and his hand had been at my waist and I'd spent the rest of the night being extremely normal about it.
He was worth every second of the thinking.
Big and thick and hard as a rock…circumcised, gorgeous. I wrapped my fingers around him and stroked him, and my eyes darted up to see his own closed, his brow furrowed.
His hand shot out to grip my hair.
“Christ,” he gasped. “Daniela?—”
I took him into my mouth—just barely. Tasted salt and heat and god, the weight of him on my tongue wasso good…
“God,” he rasped. “Where did you?—”
I slid deeper, slowly, enjoying it. I’d watched him controlling that horse earlier, let him controlme…and I wanted this, just for a second.
To be the one in charge. To takehimapart.
But of course he couldn’t let that happen.
His fingers tightened in my hair.
I looked up at him and his jaw was tight and his eyes were dark and he was looking down at me like I was something he'd been trying not to want for a very long time.
"Stop performing," he said. Low. Rough. "I don't want Daphne Wilder."
I stilled.
"I want Daniela." His thumb stroked along my jaw. "Just you. Let me have you."
Something cracked open in my chest.
I let go. Stopped thinking about technique, stopped thinking about anything, just—let him have it. And he took it. His grip shifted in my hair and his hips moved, slow at first, careful, watching my face.
"Okay?" he said.
I hummed against him.
He exhaled hard. "God."
He found a rhythm and I let him set it, my hands on his thighs, his fingers wound through my hair, and the sounds he made were nothing like the controlled quiet of earlier. This was…rough.Filthy.He was losing it.
"That's it," he breathed. "Just like that."
His hips moved and I let him, my hands on his thighs, and he stroked through my hair with his free hand like he was settling something.
"Good girl." Low. Steady. The same voice he'd used in the paddock when I'd gotten it right. "You're so good."
My eyes went hot.
"Taking me so well," he said. "Look at you."
I looked up at him and something in his face came apart a little at the edges.
