Chapter 18
DALTON
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
At breakfast the following morning, a bright smile paints Daisy’s face in sunshine. Gone are the dark shadows of trauma that haunted her a couple of days ago, and in its wake is a lightness that seems to brighten up every corner of the dining room as she hums to herself. Even my father’s austere presence is unable to penetrate the happy little bubble she seems to have wrapped herself in, or perhaps it’s the canary yellow knitted jumper and purple leggings that’s protecting her from his judgemental gaze. My ego would like to think that it’s the memory of her orgasm that has her smiling so broadly. Either way, it feels good to see her smile. It feels good that she feels good. I don’t even care that she hasn’t even brought the subject up, her orgasm an erotic secret that’s just between us.
But I can’t deny it has affected me.
I went to bed last night fisting my cock and wanking off to the memory of her pretty mewls and high-pitched cry as she came all over my one-hundred thousand pound motorbike. With my hand covered in sticky cum, I vowed to myself that the next time she came it would be because my dick or my fingers were buried so deep inside of her that nothing else mattered but the feel of her pussy contracting around me.
As she nibbles on a piece of toast, her eyes scanning the newspaper laid out on the table next to her, my father clears his throat, causing both Daisy and I to look over at him.
“I have arranged for you both to speak with the vicar,” he says.
Daisy pulls a face. “The vicar, what on earth for?”
“It’s customary to visit with the vicar before you get married,” my father responds.
“We’re getting married in a church?” Daisy’s eyes widen as she looks at me.
“Apparently so,” I say, my jaw gritting at the audacity of my father to make arrangements without at least consulting either of us first. I should’ve known fucking better.
“It’s tradition for all Gunn’s to be married at St Augustine’s,” my father reminds me. “It will be no different for you, Dalton. The date has been set, and the invites have already been sent.”
Of course they have.
“But I just assumed–” Daisy begins.
“That you’d be married in a civil ceremony?” my father replies, cutting her off.
“Well, yes, because I’m not religious.”
“Irrelevant,” my father snaps, dismissing her with a careless wave of his hand.
“Not to me it isn’t,” she retorts, her sunny disposition slowly fading beneath his persistence and disregard for our wants.
“Regardless, you will be getting married at St Augustine’s and then you will have the wedding reception at my hotel. You’re expected at eleven this morning. Don’t be late,” my father replies, standing.
“I’m not sure I feel comfortable lying to a vicar,” Daisy says, frowning.
“Why? As you said, you’re not religious, so what difference does it make lying to a vicar when you’ve been lying to everyone else quite successfully so far.”
I can see Daisy bristling with indignation, a spark of defiance lighting in her eyes. She sets down her half-eaten toast, glaring at my father.
“Daisy, there’s no avoiding it,” I interject quickly, not because I want to prevent her from giving my father a tongue-lashing—Christ knows he deserves it—but because I don’t want her good mood to be ruined before the day has even begun.
“Exactly. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do,” my father adds before twisting on his heel and striding from the room.
“Is he seriously going to make us get married in a church?” she hisses.
I hold my hands up in surrender. “I’m no more happy about it than you are, but we’ve got little choice, Daisy, you know that. Besides, you heard what he said, the invitations have already been sent.”
Her shoulders sag in defeat. “I just assumed, stupidly, that it would be a civil ceremony with a registrar marrying us. I should’ve known better.”
“What’s really bothering you, Daisy? Is it the fact that we’re getting married in a church, or the fact that this is becoming all too real?” I ask, rounding the table, and pulling out the chair next to her, sitting down.
Daisy’s gaze drops to the table as she fiddles with her napkin. “I guess… it’s just that I never imagined my wedding day to be like this. I had my own ideas of how it would look.” She sighs, giving me a half-smile. “Stupid, I know, given what I agreed to.”
“How did you imagine your wedding day?” I ask, cocking my head to the side as I wait for her to answer.
“As your father so ineloquently put it, that’s irrelevant,” she retorts, her expression falling.
“It isn’t.”
“But it clearly is,” she persists. “Like you said, we can’t avoid it. Your father is the puppet master and we just have to play along, right?”
“Just humour me, will you? Tell me what your dream wedding looks like.”
“Do you really want to know?”
“I really want to know,” I agree, because it’s the truth.
“I always imagined a private wedding on a beautiful beach somewhere tropical, with only my close friends and family in attendance,” she admits with a soft sigh. “I’ve always wanted to wear one of my own designs, reciting vows to the man I love as the sun’s setting, with water lapping softly at our bare feet.”
“Sounds beautiful,” I muse, chewing on my lip as I watch her expression fall into thoughtfulness and longing.
She gives me a small shrug. “It’s just a silly dream. I’ll do what I have to do.”
I study her face, seeing both conflict and resignation warring within her as she pulls her hand free from mine, then stands.
“I’m going to get some fresh air for a bit. I’ll meet you at the car in an hour, then we can head over to the church, okay?”
“Sure,” I reply, watching her walk from the dining room feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt rendering me immobile.
I know that none of this is what she wanted, not being married to me–a man she doesn’t love, not being tied to a family who is using her for its own gain, and not getting married in a church to suit my father’s wishes. But this is what we both signed up for, and there is little I can do to change it.
“Well that wasn’t as awful as I imagined it would be,” Daisy says as we step outside of St Augustine’s a couple of hours later.
“What were you expecting exactly, to go up in flames for pretending to be in love with me?” I ask, shooting her a half-smile.
“Actually, I admit I was expecting you to start smouldering a little,” she retorts with a grin as we walk down the steps of the church.
I bark out a laugh, her humour amusing me. “Why?”
She arches her brow as a cool breeze ruffles her hair, sending her strawberry blonde and pink streaked strands dancing around her face. “You’re seriously asking me why?”
“Go on, enlighten me,” I insist, knowing exactly where she’s going with this, but enjoying the banter anyway.
“Isn’t sex before marriage a sin that gets you sent straight to Hell?”
“Not if it’s with your fiance. I’m pretty sure there’s a loophole for that,” I tease, nudging her with my elbow, trying to make light of the situation, liking the way her lips quirk in a smile.
“You would say that,” she retorts with a roll of her eyes, as she opens the passenger door to my car and slides inside.
“By your reckoning, coming all over my motorbike seat would also be a fast pass to Hell,” I say, biting down on a smile that twitches my lips.
“If coming all over inanimate objects was a fast pass to Hell then every single woman on the planet would be lining up at the gates with their vibrators.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “Now that’s a little sexist, don’t you think? I’m sure there are plenty of men who meet those requirements too.”
“Well that goes without saying,” she huffs, folding her arms across her chest as she feigns annoyance even as mirth sparks in her eyes.
A few minutes later we’re heading back home, passing through town, when Daisy lets out an audible gasp. “What?” I question, glancing over at her.
“Look, they’re playing Stardust at the cinema!” she exclaims excitedly.
“Stardust? Never heard of it,” I reply, stopping at a red light as she turns to me with wide eyes.
“Are you kidding me, you’ve never watched Stardust?”
“Nope.”
“You haven’t lived. It’s my all time favourite movie. Ever,” Daisy replies, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as she continues to gush about the movie. “It’s this amazing magical adventure with romance and action, and a beautiful unicorn!”
I arch a brow. “A unicorn? Don’t tell me, that’s when your obsession started! Am I right?”
“It sure is. Oh, I love the film so much. I think I’ve watched it a hundred times already.”
“A hundred times?” I question incredulously. “It must be good then.”
“It really, really is,” she replies, almost a little wistfully.
“Well in that case, it looks like we’re watching Stardust this afternoon,” I declare, making a sharp turn towards the cinema.
“Wait, you’re actually serious?” she asks, grinning over at me.
“I may regret this later, but yeah, why the hell not? You came to the racetrack with me, I’m going to watch Stardust with you.”
“Haven’t you got better things to do?” she asks.
“Apparently not.”
Daisy lets out a squeal of joy, her laughter filling the car as I pull into the cinema’s car park. “I’ll buy the snacks and drinks, if you buy the tickets,” she says.
“You’re on.”
Twenty minutes later we’re settling into our seats at the back of the cinema, just as the movie begins to play. For the most part the seats are filled with children stuffing their faces with sugary treats, whilst their parents try to keep them quiet. Daisy is as excited as the children appear to be, practically bouncing on her seat as the opening scenes play out on the screen. I find myself watching her instead of the movie, a smile tugging at my lips.
As the story unfolds, Daisy is completely immersed in the story. You’d think this was the first time she’d ever seen the movie going by her reactions. There’s something undeniably endearing about her childlike wonder, something I don’t think I’ve ever experienced myself. Growing up with an emotionless man like my father, and a mother who was distant even when she was still married to my father, meant that I didn’t have the opportunity to go to the cinema with my parents, let alone lose myself in a fantasy world like Daisy is doing right now. But watching her, I can almost understand the appeal of escaping reality for a little while, of believing in something magical and extraordinary. It’s a refreshing change to my usual routine of work and responsibilities, and Daisy’s enthusiasm begins to rub off on me as I relax into my seat.
“I love this part,” Daisy whispers, an hour or so into the movie as her hand accidentally brushes against my thigh.
I clear my throat, ignoring the bolt of electricity racing down my spine from her touch. “It’s good,” I murmur, catching her fleeting smile.
“Told you.”
As the movie nears its climax, I can’t seem to take my eyes off Daisy. Every emotion that plays out on her face as she follows the twists and turns of the plot, fills me with a longing to touch her and absorb some of her joy. When she reaches for some popcorn from the bucket resting on my lap, her intoxicating scent envelopes me, tempting me to bury my nose in her neck and breathe in deeply. Enthralled by Daisy’s company, I find myself unconsciously edging closer to her until our knees are touching. The warmth of her body seeps into mine, igniting desire deep within me that compels me to rest my hand on her thigh.
My touch seems to encourage a subtle shift in Daisy’s demeanour, her breath hitching slightly as she turns her head to meet my gaze. Her expression is soft, her eyes filled with unspoken questions, but I don’t remove my hand, instead, I begin to gently stroke her inner thigh with my thumb.
“Dalton,” she whispers, the air between us crackling with tension, heavy with unexplored possibilities.
I can feel my heart pounding in my chest and my pulse rushing in my ears as Daisy’s eyes flicker with uncertainty. Yet, she doesn’t try to remove my hand, instead she waits, as if she’s too afraid to confront the tentative connection blossoming between us. Fuck knows I am.
Drawn towards her, I lean in close, my lips barely brushing against her ear as I whisper, “You enchant me far more than any magic in this movie ever could.”
“I think, maybe, you’ve had too much popcorn, the sweetness has gone to your head,” she laughs softly, trying to temper the growing electricity between us with humour.
“I’ve not had any, I’m just getting high off of your sweetness, and your scent. It’s… addictive,” I admit, my nose brushing against the pulse point in her neck.
“I’m not wearing any perfume,” she retorts with a soft chuckle, completely ignoring the movie now.
“You smell like daisies,” I mutter, breathing her in.
A tremulous laugh escapes her lips. “Daisies don’t have a scent.”
“This one does,” I reply, brushing my lips against her skin.
She sucks in a sharp breath, a charged silence settling between us, but for some reason I don’t act like I normally would and steal a kiss. Instead, I want her to kiss me first. Needing her to.
“Was this the plan all along?” Daisy asks, turning her head slightly, her lips just inches from mine.
“Plan?” I question, struggling with the need to press my lips against hers and fuck her mouth with my tongue, but realising that now is not the time given her question.
“Yes, take me to see my favourite movie, ply me with sweet treats, and kiss me in a darkened cinema?” she continues softly, though there’s no heat to her words like on previous occasions, just curiosity.
“I swear, I didn’t have a plan. All I know is that I really want to kiss you right now.”
“The other night you didn’t,” she murmurs.
“That was different,” I retort.
“Perhaps,” she replies as our lips brush, nothing more than a whisper of skin on skin, but it’s enough to light me up like a blazing inferno.
I itch to claim her mouth, this need growing with every passing second. Just like the night of our engagement party, and the kiss we shared at Bandits Bar, everything fades into the background. The only sound is my blood pulsing in my ears, and her soft, popcorn-sweetened breath mingling with mine.
Kiss her, damnit.
I don’t. I wait.
It’s fucking excruciating. My cock thickens, my balls ache, my fingers flex and curl, my body fucking trembles. I’ve never wanted anything more, and yet… I wait. I fucking wait, caught in this intense moment. She shifts slightly, her scent tantalising my nose, making me groan, but I refuse to steal another kiss. I won’t.
“Dalton,” she whispers, her breath catching, but just when I think she’s going to bridge the gap, the lights suddenly flicker on and the sounds of conversation break through the charged moment, disrupting the connection between us. Daisy quickly pulls away, avoiding my gaze as her cheeks stain with a delicate pink that only seems to make her even more irresistible.
God-fucking-damnit! I’m so fucking hard, it’s painful.
“We should probably get going,” she mumbles, gathering her bag as she stands.
I follow her out of the cinema, cursing myself for letting the moment slip away. The Dalton of old would’ve stolen that kiss regardless, but the person I’m becoming hesitated. This isn’t like me, and I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. As we step outside, the cool air hits us, and Daisy wraps her arms around herself.
“Thank you for taking me to see the movie,” she says, side-eyeing me.
“You’re welcome,” I reply, wanting to reach out to her, but I hold back, unsure of where we stand after that almost-kiss.
When we finally reach my car, she turns to face me, her eyes searching mine. “Dalton,” she begins, her voice steady, despite the apparent turmoil in her gaze. “I don’t want things to be awkward between us. Can we just forget about what happened back there, and at the racetrack too…?”
"Sure, it's already forgotten," I say with a shrug.
Liar.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
But later that night when I’m lying alone in bed, I break my promise to forget as I fist my cock, the memory of her scent and her captivating presence lingering in my mind as I come.