The Rogue and His Flower (Princetown Heirs #2)

Chapter 17

DAISY

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“How did you sleep?” Dalton asks as we step out into the winter sunshine.

There’s a chill breeze in the air, but the sun is shining and the snow has long since melted leaving behind patches of damp earth and scattered twigs and leaves.

“Okay,” I reply, winding my deep purple scarf around my neck as our footsteps crunch over the gravel drive.

Despite my response, I tossed and turned all night, plagued by memories I’ve spent years trying to forget, going over our conversation. Last night I’d offered myself up to him, and he’d refused me, and somehow that rejection hurt me more than I thought it would. In the end, I’d given up on sleep and had drawn a bath, lying in the hot water until the warmth had disappeared and my teeth were clacking from the cold.

“You’re not a very good liar,” Dalton says, his blue eyes searching mine as he opens the passenger door for me.

“Very gentlemanly of you,” I reply, ignoring his comment and giving him a small smile as I slide into the seat. He gently closes the door, rounding the car.

Today he’s wearing blue jeans, a thick grey woollen sweater, and a black leather jacket, his auburn hair catching the light as he settles behind the wheel. When he starts the engine, I catch a whiff of his cologne, a now familiar scent that only serves to remind me of that moment in the spa when his hands had been warm, and my body had been receptive to his touch.

Forcing that memory aside, I buckle in as the car hums to life. Dalton pulls out of the driveway, his fingers curling around the steering wheel as he concentrates on the road ahead. For a while we sit in silence, the only sound is the soft purr of the engine, and my pulse beating loudly in my ears. An undercurrent of tension crackles between us as I steal glances at Dalton, his profile outlined by sunlight streaming through the window. His jaw is set and there’s a furrow between his brows, telling me he’s preoccupied, no doubt with everything I revealed last night.

“Dalton, can we just forget about our conversation, and what happened last night? Can we just enjoy today?” I ask, making a decision to not dwell on the past, and the things I cannot change.

He glances at me briefly, his expression softening for a moment. “Whatever you need, Daisy.”

“Thank you,” I murmur.

“I just want to say one thing first though,” he begins, clearing his throat.

“Okay.”

“I know it wasn’t easy for you to open up like that, but I’m grateful that you did. It made me reevaluate our relationship.”

“Should I be concerned?”

“Not at all. Just know that I intend for things to be better between us. We can agree that we’re friends now, right?”

“Yes we are, and that sounds good to me,” I say softly.

I know that he’s trying to process my revelations just as much as I’m struggling to navigate the aftermath of laying bare secrets I’ve long kept hidden, but in all honesty, I just want to put everything aside for today. A fresh start could be good for the both of us.

“Now that everything’s out in the open, perhaps we can try to move forward?” I offer, pressing my palms against my red jeans to try and prevent my hands from trembling, not because he’s making me nervous, but because I’m still shaken by the rawness of last night. Dalton notices my reaction and reaches out and wraps his hand around mine, his huge palm engulfing mine, the warmth of his touch seeping into my skin.

“Let’s focus on today. Maybe if you’re lucky I’ll give you a ride on my motorbike,” he adds jovially, a small smile playing about his lips as I glance over at him.

“Sounds positively thrilling,” I reply, laughing softly.

“You’ve no idea,” he retorts, squeezing my hand before letting it go.

After another twenty minutes of small talk that seems to lighten the mood, Dalton pulls up to the racetrack on the outskirts of Princetown. I’ve never actually been here before, and the sound of motorbikes revving fills the air with an exciting energy that crackles beneath my skin as we step out of the car.

“I’ll introduce you to my friends,” Dalton says, offering me his hand, a simple gesture of support as I slide my palm into his.

“You have some then?” I reply, smiling so he knows I’m only joking.

He chuckles. “As hard as that is to believe, I do. Truthfully, this is where I feel most at home.”

“How so?” I ask.

“I’m just Dalton here,” he shrugs. “I’m not someone who is the heir to a billion-pound fortune. There are no expectations for me to act a certain way. I can just be me. I’m respected for my skills on the track, and liked for who I am. Plus, when I ride, I’m free.” He glances over at me. “It’s hard to explain.”

“I can understand that,” I reply, frowning a little.

As we head towards a group of riders talking together beside a row of impressive motorbikes parked next to the track, I can’t help but feel a surge of anticipation mixed with a touch of nerves at the thought of meeting Dalton’s friends. But I needn’t have worried as they greet us enthusiastically, clapping Dalton on the back and exchanging warm welcomes with me. Their easy smiles and banter immediately put me at ease.

“Everyone, this is my fiance, Daisy. Daisy meet everyone,” Dalton says, throwing his arm wide to include the group of three men and two women.

“I’m Banks,” a tall man with deep-set, hazel eyes and a flop of unruly black hair says. He points to his left to a guy with short blonde hair and a neatly trimmed beard, “And this is Milo, the best racer here.”

Milo salutes me with a wink. “Alright, Daisy?”

“Hi,” I reply, giving him a smile.

“Erm, excuse me,” Dalton says, raising his brows. “We all know I’m the best racer here.”

“Aside from me, of course,” Banks adds, with a smirk. “You’ve got to admit it, your reflexes aren’t as quick now that you’re edging into your late forties.”

“Fuck off, Banks,” Dalton replies, lightly punching him on his arm. “I’m still a good seven or eight years younger than you, and we both know whilst you look forty, you’re not quite there yet.”

“Whatever, man,” Banks replies, holding his hand out for me to shake.

“Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Elijah,” another imposing man says, he’s slightly shorter than Banks and Milo, but no less intimidating with his tattooed face and shorn hair. I can’t see the colour of his eyes, given he’s wearing sunglasses, but his easy smile is welcoming.

“Hi Elijah,” I reply.

“And that’s Risk,” Dalton says, pointing to the track as another one of his friends whizzes past at high speed, his red motorbike a blur of colour against the grey asphalt.

“Risk?” I ask, my eyes following him as he races off into the distance. I’m momentarily stunned by how close he leans to the ground as he rounds a corner, his knee hovering over the asphalt.

“It’s his nickname because he has zero fear, and likes to scare the shit out of all of us with his moves around the track,” Banks explains.

“Ah, I see,” I say.

“Hey, I’m Tory,” a woman with long multicoloured, braided hair says, stepping between Banks and Milo and holding her hand out to me. She’s dressed in full leathers that match her rainbow hair.

“I love your outfit,” I say, taking her hand and shaking it.

“Thanks. Gotta brighten up this place a little, right?” She smiles, the tiny lines around her eyes creasing.

“Right,” I agree, instantly liking her.

“And I’m Swift,” the other, younger woman says.

She gives me a once over, her cool blue eyes assessing me before she flicks her gaze to Dalton, then turns on her heel and strides off towards a stunning, sleek black motorbike, her long brown hair fluttering in the breeze behind her.

“Don’t mind my daughter, she’s a little cranky with newcomers,” Tory explains.

“Your daughter? You don’t look old enough to have a daughter,” I say, surprise widening my eyes.

“Swift is twenty. I had her when I was seventeen. Been bringing her to the track with me since she was a kid,” Tory replies with a shrug. “So you’ve come to race?”

“Oh no, not me,” I admit, shaking my head vigorously. “I’m here to watch, Dalton.”

“Well, enjoy. We’re just having a practice run today,” Milo chimes in, patting Dalton on the shoulder. “You better bring your A-game if you want to beat me.”

“Always,” Dalton replies with a chuckle, exchanging a confident look with his friend.

As the group disperses to prepare for the practice run, Dalton takes my hand and guides me towards the sidelines of the track. The rumble of several motorbikes starting up intensifies, sending goosebumps erupting across my skin as I watch Risk zoom towards us at an incredible speed.

Dalton leans in close, his voice barely audible over the roar of the engines. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

“How fast was he going exactly?” I ask, watching the others pull on their helmets and manoeuvre their bikes onto the track just as Risk pulls up, waving in our direction.

“Pretty damn fast,” Dalton replies, before resting his hand over mine. “Do you mind if I go and join them?”

“Of course not, you’re here to race,” I reply, frowning as I drop my gaze to his outfit. “You’re not wearing that are you? I mean, don’t you have leathers or something to put on?”

“Are you afraid I’m going to hurt myself?” he asks me, but before I’m able to respond he adds, “I’ve got my things here. Don’t worry, Daisy, I know what I’m doing.”

“Come on Dalton, we’re waiting!” Elijah calls, revving his engine.

“I gotta go,” Dalton grins, releasing my hand, but I reach for him, my fingertips brushing his arm.

“Be careful, okay?”

He gives me a disarming smile. “I always am,” he retorts with confidence, and then, almost reflexively, he presses a quick kiss against my cheek.

A rash of heat floods my face, and even though it was just a chaste kiss with no heat behind it, the disarming smile that he throws over his shoulder at me as he jogs away has my stomach fluttering with butterflies.

I quickly look away in an effort to hide my reaction, and a few minutes later he comes back out, head-to-toe in fitted black leather.

“Bloody hell,” I murmur, unable to deny how good he looks. But it isn’t just the fact he looks incredibly sexy in his leathers, there’s an ease about him as he jokes and laughs with his friends, and it’s something that I’ve never seen before. He seems really at home here, and it feels like I’m witnessing a whole different person as he pulls on his helmet and swings himself onto the seat of a beautiful silver motorbike, the engine purring beneath him as he revs it.

Moments later the group lines up at the starting line, their engines roaring in unison. The sound vibrates through the air, lifting the hairs on my arms, and my heart pounds in my chest as I hold my breath, waiting for the signal to start.

With a final glance in my direction, Dalton nods before shutting his visor. Seconds later a loud horn blares, and suddenly they’re off, speeding down the tracks in a blaze of colour and noise, the scent of petrol and burning rubber in the air.

The wind whips at my hair as I track their progress, watching in awe as they lean into each turn with precision and grace. Risk takes the lead, his fearless manoeuvres leaving me in awe as he navigates the curves with skill.

Dalton isn’t far behind, his focus apparently unwavering as he chases Risk and Milo who has just edged in front of him on the last turn. Hunching over the bike, his stomach almost pressed against his thighs, Dalton gains ground. The sound of their engines is deafening as they race past me, each rider seemingly pushing themselves to the limit in a display of raw talent and exhilaration.

As they complete another lap, Dalton throws a brief look my way and I grin at him, waving as the race continues on. My veins fizz with excitement and adrenaline as they jockey for position, each of them vying for the top spot, and as they approach the final stretch, Dalton pushes ahead with a burst of speed that propels him past Risk and across the finish line first.

I let out a triumphant scream as Dalton skids to a stop, his bike throwing up a plume of dust as he removes his helmet to reveal a wide grin, his hair sticking up in disarray. Dismounting his bike, Dalton kicks out the footrest as I rush towards him, unable to contain my excitement.

“Oh my God, you were incredible!” I exclaim, forgetting myself as I throw my arms around him in a tight hug, caught up in the thrill of the moment.

“Not bad for a man who spends his days behind a desk, eh?” he jokes, planting a kiss on my forehead that has my insides swarming with butterflies, and my cheeks heating.

It’s a friendly kiss, with nothing more to it other than affection for a friend, but it sends a jolt of electricity through me nonetheless. Moments later, the others approach, offering congratulations and playful jabs at Dalton for beating them this time. Milo claps him on the back, grinning from ear to ear.

"Well done, mate! You had us sweating there for a moment."

Risk joins in, nodding in respect. "Impressive riding, Dalton. You've got some serious skills." He offers me a smile, pulling off his glove before shaking my hand. “I’m Risk.”

“Nice to meet you, that was really incredible!” I reply, and he laughs, his deep brown eyes twinkling as his light brown hair is tousled by the wind.

“Not nearly as incredible as your other half,” he retorts good-naturedly as he slaps Dalton on the back, the camaraderie between them evident even to an outsider like me.

As the banter continues, I take a moment to observe Dalton in his element, surrounded by friends, laughing and joking with them. It’s a side of him I haven’t seen before, and it adds another layer to the man I thought I already knew. Eventually the excitement from the race begins to ebb away, and the others steer their bikes back to the stand, but Dalton hangs back, pulling me into his side as he chuckles.

“What?” I ask, looking up at him.

“If I knew all it would take for you to throw yourself at me was a day at the track, I would’ve brought you here sooner,” he says jokingly, but there’s a warmth in his gaze that lingers, making me feel seen in a way I’m not quite used to.

“Funny,” I reply, giving him a playful shove, both of us ignoring the fact that I threw myself at him last night.

“Would you like me to take you for a ride?” he asks after a beat.

“Back to that again, I see,” I reply, hitching a brow.

“I meant on my motorbike,” he flirts back, a lightness and ease to his tone that simply wasn’t there before.

I laugh, shaking my head, before my smile drops and I stare at his beautiful motorbike. “I’m not sure. You go awfully fast.”

“I promise to take it easy.”

“You swear?”

“Of course, but you’re going to need some protective leathers, and a helmet. You’re about the same size as Swift, I’m sure she’d be happy to lend you something,” he says, taking my hand as he tugs me towards her.

“You think she’ll be okay loaning me something? I got the distinct impression she didn’t like my appearance here today,” I say, eyeing Dalton for any signs that he’s had a past relationship with her given the look she’d thrown at him earlier.

“Swift takes a while to warm up,” he explains.

My eyebrows lift. “Oh yeah?”

Dalton’s steps falter as he turns to me. “Don’t give me that look, Daisy. She’s a friend, nothing more.”

“Has she ever been more than a friend?” I ask, not sure why I want to know, but asking the question anyway.

“Nope. She’s not interested in me, and I’m not at all interested in her. In fact I’m pretty sure she’s got a huge crush on the guys.”

“The guys?”

“Yes, Milo, Risk, Elijah and Banks.”

“Oh, wow. That’s… interesting. Do they know?” I ask, curious about the situation.

“Not sure. Possibly. They keep her at arms length though given their close relationship with Tory.”

“Wait, Tory is with the guys?”

Dalton shakes his head. “No, Tory is just their friend. She’s known them for the past couple years since she’s been racing at this track. Besides, she prefers women.”

“I see.” I blow out a breath. “That’s complicated.”

“Frustrating for Swift given the guys are not the type of men to take advantage of a young girl’s crush, especially not the daughter of their friend.”

“Well, I already liked them. Now, I think I like them even more.”

By the time we reach the group, Tory is chatting animatedly with the men, and Swift is checking over her bike, pointedly ignoring the group.

“Swift, you wouldn’t mind lending Daisy some leathers and a helmet, would you? I want to take her for a spin on the track,” Dalton asks as she flicks her gaze his way.

“Sure she doesn’t mind,” Tory answers for her, throwing a look over at her daughter before she can protest.

“Fine. You can borrow my old shit,” Swift says, motioning me to follow her inside the brick building.

“Sorry about this,” I say, trying to appease her because she’s clearly pissed off.

“Don’t worry about it,” Swift mutters, rummaging through her box of gear, tossing me a leather suit and helmet as her gaze assesses me. “These should fit. Just make sure you don’t fall off and ruin them, and we’ll be good.”

“Gosh, I hope not,” I reply but she strides from the room, leaving me to change.

When I step out of the building with the helmet tucked under my arm, Dalton is waiting with his friends, his back to me. Risk lets out a low whistle as I approach, causing Dalton to twist on his heels. I can’t help but notice a flare of heat flickering to life in his gaze, but he quickly recovers.

“Leathers suit you, Daisy,” he says with a grin.

“You think?” I ask, genuinely surprised by his compliment because I feel pretty uncomfortable, given the leather is riding up my arse and is a little too tight around my breasts. I’m almost ten years older than Swift, and she’s clearly a size smaller than me.

“Come on then, let's give you the ride of your life,” he jokes, resting his hand against the small of my back as we head back on to the racetrack.

“I’m nervous,” I admit as he takes the helmet from me and places it on my head. It’s a snug fit, but at least my head will be protected should the worst happen.

“Don’t be. I’ve got you,” he says, his fingers grazing against my jaw as he clips the helmet in place and tightens the strap.

“I’m trusting you to keep me safe, Dalton,” I say.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he replies with a reassuring smile, before he puts on his own helmet then swings his leg over the bike, patting the space behind him. “On you get.”

I awkwardly climb onto the seat, my hands hanging loosely by my side as he kicks up the footrest and straightens the bike, causing me to wobble dangerously.

“Shit,” I mutter, grabbing hold of his sides as my thighs grip tightly around his.

“You’re going to need to hold onto me,” he says, chucking a look over his shoulder as he reaches back and grips my thigh, urging me closer.

“I am,” I retort.

“Tighter, Daisy!” he orders, twisting the throttle briefly so that I’m thrown forward and have no option but to wrap my arms around his waist, and hang on for dear life, my whole body pressed tightly against him.

“Jesus, give a girl a warning,” I mutter, my heart in my throat, all too aware of the heat between my thighs, and my entire body pressed against his.

“That was my warning, and for the love of all that’s holy, don’t let go. Drix will murder me if you fall off this motorbike.”

“Don’t you be worrying about Drix, I’ll murder you if I fall off this motorbike,” I reply, and Dalton chuckles as he accelerates across the asphalt.

“Holy shit!” I scream, but the wind takes my breath, drowning me out.

Digging my fingers into his leather jacket, I feel the powerful rumble of the engine beneath us vibrating through my bones. Despite my initial nerves, I can’t deny the rush of adrenaline and the feeling of freedom it brings. Not to mention the way the vibrations hit in all the right places. My face flushes furiously from the sensation because the blood in my veins isn’t the only thing pulsing wildly.

Relaxing into the ride, the world blurs into streaks of colour as Dalton leans into each turn, myself and the bike leaning with him as though we’re an extension of his body. I cling to him tighter, my heart racing in sync with the engine’s roar, the wind whipping around us both like a cyclone threatening to tear us apart. But, I just hold on tighter, soothed by Dalton’s confidence as he handles the powerful motorbike with ease, a little distracted by how turned on I am.

As we zip around the track, the barriers between us seem to dissolve leaving only the raw intensity of the ride, and the physical reaction on my body. I close my eyes for a moment, letting myself fully embrace the feeling, appreciating the freedom of tearing down the track at breakneck speed. Although it feels like we’re going as fast as when he was racing solo, I know he isn’t given that our knees aren’t practically touching the asphalt as we turn into the bends. Nevertheless, I put all my trust in Dalton, and in that instant, I realise that this ride isn’t just about speed or adrenaline, it’s about trust, and about letting go of fear.

When Dalton finally eases the bike to a standstill, we’re on the other side of the racetrack, alone but for the distant echoes of cheers and revving engines. Taking a deep breath, my hands shaking slightly, I slowly release my grip on Dalton, feeling the loss of his warmth as he kicks out the footrest and eases himself off the bike, offering me his hand as I sling my leg over the seat and stand on trembling legs.

“Did you enjoy the ride, Daisy?” he asks, his voice a little hoarse as we both remove our helmets.

“That was… amazing!” I reply, shaking my hair out as a wide smile spreads across my face. “I never thought I’d do something like that.”

“Glad you enjoyed it,” he replies, tucking my hair gently behind my ear as he looks down at me. My pulse thrums in my ear, and I don’t know whether it’s from the adrenaline, the way he’s looking at me right now, or the fact that I feel so aroused. With my cheeks heating, the dull ache between my legs comes to life under his scrutiny. He cocks his head at me, eyes narrowing a little.

“What?” I mutter.

“You’re flushed,” he points out, swiping his index finger downwards from my temple to my jaw.

“Adrenaline, I guess,” I reply, flicking my gaze away as I try to regain my composure, hoping he doesn’t notice that I’m struggling with the ache between my legs.

“I guess,” he retorts, picking up my helmet and slotting it back onto my head.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Taking you for another ride,” he says, grabbing his own helmet and putting it back on.

“I think that’s enough for one day,” I begin, but he shakes his head, gripping me around the waist and plonking me back on the bike. I don’t have time to get back off before he’s straddling the bike and revving the engine once again.

Automatically I wrap my arms back around his waist, my thighs gripping him tightly, expecting him to pull off at breakneck speed once more. The vibrations from the revving hit me right in that sweet spot, and I can’t help but moan.

“That’s it, Daisy,” he grinds out, just loud enough for me to hear over the engine.

“What’s it?” I whimper, swallowing another moan, glad he can’t see my face turning beetroot as he revs the engine over and over, yet not allowing the bike to move an inch.

Is he doing this on purpose?

Does he know what this is doing to me? Of course he does. This is Dalton we’re talking about.

“Aren’t we going to move?” I shout, trying and failing not to rock my hips as I search for what? For an orgasm?

Yes.

Fuck.

“I think you’re doing that all by yourself,” he grunts back.

“Dalton… This is…” I stutter, unable now to hide the tremble in my voice, my pussy growing slicker, wetter, hotter with every rev of the engine, at the wrongness of how easily I’m about to come, at the rightness of how it feels.

“Just let me give you this,” he bites out, reaching behind me as his leather clad hand rests on my hip. He grips me tightly, urging me to move, to dry hump his motorbike.

“But I’m going to–”

“Come? I sure as fuck hope so,” he replies.

I can feel the vibrations shudder through my body, cascading upwards from the tips of my toes to the top of my head, pleasure building in my core, urging me towards the edge.

“Oh God,” I cry out, all sense of self, of respectability, seeping from me as I grind against the seat. His hand grips my hip as my fingers dig into his leather jacket. I’m just grateful he can’t see my face, how my skin flushes with perspiration, embarrassment and pleasure.

So much pleasure.

I’m going to come, right here on the back of Dalton’s motorbike, with his friends cheering and hollering from the other side of the racetrack. It’s humiliating. It’s thrilling. It’s erotic and so, so dirty.

“Dalton, please…” I beg, and at this point I don’t know what I’m even begging for more, my release or the scraps of my self-respect that drips from my pussy.

“This won’t end until you finish,” he grinds out. “So you’d better come quickly, or my friends are going to know exactly what’s happening here.”

“Jesus,” I mutter, but that doesn’t stop me from rubbing my aching pussy harder against the seat as my eyelids drop shut and I press my helmet covered head against the centre of his back.

“Come for me, Daisy. Let me do something right for once,” he mutters.

And embarrassingly that’s all it takes.

I come so hard that I’m scared his friends will hear my cry as I go rigid, my stomach muscles contracting as white hot heat bursts outwards from my core, circling my throbbing clit until eventually I go limp, my hot breath steaming up the visor with every panting breath.

“Good girl,” he rumbles, releasing my hip and wrapping his hand around the handlebar. “Now hold on tight.”

I don’t get a chance to think as he pulls off. Instinct takes over as I grip hold of him tightly and he speeds off around the track and back towards the starting position, impossibly faster than before. I feel another rush of adrenaline spike in my blood, the unholy thrill still aching between my legs. It feels as though I’m letting go of the pain of last night, all the memories. I see them in my mind’s eye, the remnants of my past like pieces of curled and worn pages torn from a book, flying up into the air with every second that passes. I’m not foolish enough to believe that they’re gone forever, but right now, in this moment, as I hang on to the man that I never thought I could tolerate let alone become friends with, they float away giving me peace, if just for a little while.

It takes less than a minute to get to the other side of the track, and I’ve not nearly recovered from the exhilarating speed let alone my orgasm as he pulls up sharp and kicks out the footstand.

Sliding off the bike, he takes my hand and I stand, yet again on trembling legs. Reaching up, I pull off my helmet, needing to take a deep lungful of breath, gasping for air, thoroughly and completely overwhelmed as I watch him pull off his own helmet, a smirk pulling up his lips.

“Enjoy yourself?” he asks.

“That was… thrilling,” I whisper, barely able to meet his eyes as a smile curves up my lips and more heat floods my already flaming cheeks.

“It was,” he agrees. “But you know what’s even more thrilling?”

“What?” I ask, slowly dragging my gaze up to meet his intense one, the deep blue of his irises lit with fire.

“Knowing I was the one to put that beautiful smile on your face.”

“I think you’ll find that was the motorbike,” I mutter, choking on a smile.