That said, I don’t have to be in love either—quite the contrary. All I need is the thrill of a partner who’s willing to push the limits with me. Someone who’s interested in doing more than lying back and spreading their legs. Someone who’s open to being pleased and eager to please me in return.
And if there’s anything I’ve surmised about Daisy Diaz in the last four hours, it’s that she’s extremely eager to please.
Her knees rise up, skimming my sides and tucking into the flesh just above the bones of my hips. Her core gyrates toward me, and her tension increases. Her body bows with each breath, suggesting she’s all too eager to get my cock inside her dainty little cunt.
I push her knees wide again and sink down to the floor, and the direct view I get of her bare pussy is enough to make my cock jump inside my jeans. She smells sweet, and I can tell without even touching her that she’s making my counter wet.
“I’m going to tongue you so deep, I’ll remember the taste of you every time I eat in this kitchen.”
Her fingernails dig into the muscles of my shoulders through the thin material of my T-shirt, and my cock swells some more. If she got off on that, this is going to be good.
“Lie back,” I instruct, reaching up with a flat hand to press on the center of her chest. She acquiesces immediately, and the new position makes it that much easier to get her legs as wide as they’ll go and anchor her heels into the cool concrete counter.
Her breathing is heavy, her whole body shaking, but for the first time since I met her this afternoon, she’s quiet. And it’s not because she’s scared—I can tell by the glisten on my finger as I run it around the rim of her pussy—she’s excited.
I skim my finger over her clit, eliciting a moan and a jerk of her hips, and then suck the juice off the surface of her pussy. She tastes like a cherry popsicle on a hot summer day. Fuck.
Easing her open, I push one finger inside, and the squeeze of her around me is enough to make me sink my teeth into the flesh of my bottom lip. It’s a stretch, so I go gently, but adding a second finger to the first is as sweet as I imagine.
“You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself and your tight little cunt into, Daisy. But I’m sure as hell about to show you.”
“Oh my God,” she breathes, her legs shaking so hard you’d think Vegas was experiencing an earthquake. I run my hands up the length of her thighs firmly, settling them in their place again.
My dick throbs in my pants, and I know I can’t wait any longer to taste her again without breaking in half from the anticipation. With steady hands, I hold open the spread of her legs and put my mouth to her pussy. It spasms against my lips, inciting a pointed flick of my tongue at the entrance before dipping it inside to really drink her in. She’s soft and supple and every bit of the woman I imagined she’d be when I first wrote her off.
She’s immaculate—tidy—and used to a certain amount of restraint. Her back bows, and she scratches her hands at the top of my head, desperate to find purchase in the dark locks of my hair, though. And I know it’s because the way I’m eating her—the messy, voracious strokes of my tongue—is better than anything she’s ever felt before.
I suck and stroke and lap at her patiently until I’ve drunk every drop of come her pretty little pussy has to offer and make it give me more. It spasms and quakes with her orgasm, and the sound of her howl echoes off the walls of my kitchen like a boomerang. She’s as slick as silk, and my cock is going to love the feel of her around me.
Standing softly, I unbuckle my belt and undo the button of my pants. She’s motionless, the only indication that she’s still with me, the heave of her returning breath.
I realize that then I don’t have a condom. Ironically, I should’ve had the foresight to have one in my pocket to keep a drunken Ty out of trouble this weekend, but apparently I dropped the fucking ball.
My cock is pulsing, damn near purple from arousal, and Daisy is right here, with her thighs spread and her pussy wet with need.
Fuck.
“I don’t have a condom.”
“It’s fine,” she breathes out in a raspy, needy voice, but her eyes are still half closed. “I’m on the shot. I’m clean. And I haven’t had sex in, like, eleventy-billion years.”
Her commentary almost makes me laugh, but again, I’m so fucking hard right now, I could hammer nails.
A rational guy like me doesn’t have unprotected sex, but tonight, I don’t fucking know. I can’t stop looking at her, staring at how gorgeous and downright tempting she looks with her legs spread wide for me.
And you sure as shit can’t find the will to stop whatever is happening here.
“I’m clean too,” I tell her, and like a fucking masochistic psycho, I slide a finger inside her to remind myself of how damn good she feels.
“Then we’re all set.” A tiny moan escapes her lips, and she wiggles her hips closer to my hand. “It’s allllll good. All set to consummate,” she rambles, and it’s only then that she gathers enough strength to lift her head from the counter, her glazed-over eyes landing squarely on my girth. “Uh…wow…” She licks her lips. “Uh…you’re…”
“Big,” I finish for her. It’s not a brag or a flex or some stupid ego type of bullshit. It’s just a fact. To be honest, I’ve found it scares more women than it excites.
“How… Is that… Is it going to fit?”
“Oh yeah. I made sure your sweet little cunt would be ready for me.”
And just imagine how she’s going to feel wrapped around your cock…
Fuck.
I don’t miss the way she swallows hard, the bob of her throat visible even in the moonlit kitchen.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
Her head stutters, but she ultimately nods. By the fifth or sixth bout up and down, it’s much more resolute. “Yes. I-I want you, Flynn. I need to know what you feel like.”
Fuck it. I can’t hold back. I have to be inside her, too.
Her words hit like a buzz, sending my mind into a tailspin of naughty—really fucking dirty thoughts. If she wants to know what I feel like, I’m going to make sure her pussy walls remember every goddamn stroke like I’ve written them in braille.
Sunday, April 7th
Daisy
I pull open the bedroom door—Flynn’s bedroom door—to the hallway, my clothes back in place thanks to a stealth mission at the crack of dawn and Flynn’s folded T-shirt in my arms, and head for the kitchen. I don’t know how long I’ve been staring at the door, working up the nerve to come outside and face everything I did last night in the light of day, but it’s bordering on way too long.
His bed. The walls. The black chair in the corner in front of the closet. They all know things. Things I’m not even sure I knew about myself before Flynn opened up an erotic portal to a place I’ve never been before.