The Rogue and His Flower (Princetown Heirs #2)

Chapter 20

DALTON

CHAPTER TWENTY

The next couple of days pass in a blur of wedding preparations and work commitments. Daisy and I have fallen into a frustrating new rhythm, and I’m trying my best to navigate our complicated relationship without fucking it all up. Since that kiss, we’ve reverted to circling each other, not knowing how to act, whether to reach out and hold on, or to sink back into what’s familiar. That kiss was like the fucking sun parting a storm cloud, shining so brightly that I’m blinded by everything but the memory of it.

We’ve gone from enemies, to frenemies, to friends, to people who’ve kissed each other in anger, like lovers, who’ve kissed each other like it meant something. My head is spinning, and truth be known, I’ve avoided bringing it up, knowing that whatever lies beyond that kiss is too fucking scary for me to truly contemplate. All I’m capable of doing is work, and when I’m not working I’m counting down the days to when we get married, wondering what the fuck that’s going to look like now that we’ve stepped over that line Daisy drew in the sand weeks ago when we signed the contract. In just a few week’s time she’ll be my wife, and the thought makes that possessive part inside of me prowl like a caged fucking animal.

To make matters even more excruciating, my attraction to Daisy has grown exponentially, and now that I’ve had a taste of the woman who, for a few blissful moments, kissed me back with as much hunger as I kissed her, I can’t think of anyone else.

Believe me I’ve tried.

I’ve whacked off multiple times a day like a fucking hormonal teenager to try and temper these confusing feelings and curb my raging desire. Every time I force myself to think of other women, but each time I try, Daisy filters into my mind, and I come hard only to thoughts of her.

Whilst I’m well aware that abstaining from sex has complicated matters for me, there’s this niggle deep inside that tells me this attraction is more than just my need to fuck. It’s infuriating. It’s complicated. It’s fucking scaring the shit out of me.

“Mr Gunn, is there anything I can get you before I retire for the evening?” Fraser, our longest standing member of staff, asks as he steps into my office and jolts me from my thoughts.

I flick my gaze to my watch, noticing that it’s almost ten o’clock in the evening, and I shake my head. “No, thank you. I’ll be finishing up soon.”

“Very well, Sir,” he replies.

“Have you seen Daisy this evening?” I ask before he’s able to leave.

“Briefly. She was watching television in the cinema room an hour ago. Though when I checked a few minutes ago, the lights were off. I suspect she has gone to bed.”

“Okay, thank you,” I reply, dropping my gaze back to my laptop as he exits the room.

By the time I head to bed, it’s past midnight, and I’m exhausted from a long day of non-stop work, and a painful erection that has kept my body in a constant state of arousal. I’m ready to take a shower and relieve some of the building tension when I pass by Daisy’s room and hear a soft moan. The door’s slightly ajar, her bed-side lamp casting a warm glow through the crack in the door, and my feet still as I strain to listen.

When her moaning gets louder, concern for Daisy gets the better of me, and I cautiously open the door, stepping into her room and expecting to find her in the throes of a nightmare.

Except she’s not in bed.

The covers are thrown back and the door to her en-suite is open. I pause, listening intently, but when she moans again, the sound of her pleasure is unmistakable.

“Fuck,” I mutter, my whole body tensing as I realise what she’s doing.

I know I should leave, that I should turn on my heel and get the hell out of her room, but my body is refusing to listen to sense. This time the thought of Daisy pleasuring herself is too much of a temptation to ignore.

Creeping closer to her bathroom door, I’m pulled inexorably towards her, and despite the warning voice screaming at me to get the fuck out, I do the exact opposite. Quietly stepping into the bathroom, my heart is in my throat as my gaze falls to her naked body. She’s soaking in the bath, her eyes pressed shut as the water laps at her skin, her hand between her legs. Stunned by the sensual vision before me, all I can do is stare. Daisy’s mouth is parted as she leisurely strokes her pussy, making my already hard cock desperate for relief. The sight of her in this vulnerable, yet incredibly sexy state has me rooted to the spot, struggling to rip my gaze away.

She’s fucking stunning.

With rapt attention, I take in every curve of her body, marvelling over her creamy skin scattered with freckles, and the globes of her breasts just breaking the surface of the water. Her dusky pink nipples are hardened into points and begging to be sucked and licked. It takes every ounce of self-restraint not to do exactly that.

I find my own lips parting on a soft exhale of breath as my mind races with thoughts of what I should do. I mean, I know what I should do, and that’s walk the fuck away, but I’m so consumed with desire that I can’t. I fucking can’t. So I stand there, an intruder on her most private moment, getting more and more aroused as the seconds tick by.

“Touch me,” she whispers, and for a second I think she’s talking to me, aware that I’m in the bathroom with her, but she doesn’t open her eyes, lost to whatever fantasy she’s imagining. “Make me come.”

Jesus fuck.

As if on its own accord, my hand falls to my aching dick as I grip myself tightly. It’s been so long since I’ve been with a woman that if I stay for much longer I know I’ll come from just watching Daisy pleasure herself. Yet, I can’t seem to move. Enraptured, I imagine it’s my hand between her legs, and my fingers exploring the soft folds of her pussy as I stroke my cock over the material of my trousers.

Yes, I made her come on the back of my motorbike. Yes, it was fucking thrilling knowing she let down her guard long enough to enjoy the pleasure even if it wasn’t strictly by my hand, but fuck this is different, this is a thousand times more intimate. I’m fully aware that I’m crossing a million boundaries right now, but selfishness and overwhelming attraction overrides common sense.

“That feels so good,” she continues, lost to her fantasy, and I feel a sharp stab of jealousy at this imaginary person she’s thinking about. Still I remain where I am, my breath catching in my throat as I watch Daisy’s face contort with pleasure, her soft moans echoing through the steam-filled bathroom.

A bead of sweat trickles down my forehead as I struggle to contain the impulse to reach out and touch her, to coast my fingers over her pebbled nipples, to replace her hand with mine and bring her to orgasm. And as Daisy’s moans grow louder, I step closer, my heart racing as she fingers herself, this primal urge to witness her undoing an addiction that I’m helpless to fight against. With a heaving chest, my gaze falls to her hand as her fingers swirl and tease her clit. Mesmerised, I fail to notice that the catch in her breath is anything other than her mounting desire until it’s too late.

“W-what are you doing here?”

My gaze snaps to hers, my eyes widening as I fumble for words. “I heard you moaning. I thought you were having a nightmare,” I say, realising how fucking ludicrous that sounds. “I just… Fuck, I’ll go.”

Daisy bites on her lip, her cheeks heating as her fingers slip from her pussy and she draws upright in the bath, trying to cover herself as water trickles over her skin. I watch the droplets fall, feeling a sudden jealousy at the way they get to glide over all the places I want to touch.

“Dalton, this is…”

“Wrong. So fucking wrong.”

She sucks in a breath, her gaze dropping to my dick that’s spectacularly tenting my trousers. “You’re turned on,” she whispers, flicking her gaze back up to my face.

“Beyond measure,” I reply, wondering why she’s isn’t telling me to get the fuck out.

She swallows hard, her gaze fixed on mine, and for long moments we just stare at one another until eventually she unfolds her arms from across her chest and slowly sinks back beneath the water.

“Daisy, what are you doing?” I ask, my voice hoarse, thick with need as she rolls her head to face me, strands of her hair sticking to her neck and chest, the rest fanning out in the water around her.

“I’m trying to figure that out myself,” she admits, her chest heaving as she bares herself to me.

“I should go.”

“I…” she falters.

“What, Daisy?”

“I don’t want you too,” she whispers.

“Why?” I choke out.

“Because I don’t think anyone has ever looked at me the way you are at this very moment,” she admits. “It feels… good.”

“Jesus, Daisy,” I reply, running a shaky hand through my hair. “You have to understand, my self-control is paper thin.”

“What will happen if you lose control, Dalton?” she asks me, her fingers gently swirling the water as she waits for me to answer. There is nothing in her gaze but raw vulnerability, and I’m floored by it as she willingly bares herself to me.

I grit my jaw, pressing my eyes shut briefly, if only to give myself a moment to gather every last shred of self-control I can muster. “I refuse to let you find out.”

She nods, giving me a wavering smile. “It’s for the best, I guess.”

“Daisy…” I plead, fighting with myself as I wobble on my feet, my whole body trembling in my need to go to her. I can’t decipher how much of this is my addiction to the female form, my growing connection with Daisy or just pure animal need.

“You had no reservations making me come on the back of your motorbike,” she counters, spearing me with her gaze. Daring me to object.

“That was different.”

“How?”

“It just was,” I reply lamely.

“Do you want to see me come?” she asks, her voice a mere whisper.

Her question burns like a brand, igniting fire in my belly. “Yes,” I choke out, my voice barely audible as she blinks up at me. “But I don’t know if I can stop myself from taking you in my arms and fucking you right here and now if I do.”

“If you touched yourself too, would that stop you from doing that?”

“You want me to touch myself?”

“If that would help?”

“Daisy, we’re crossing a boundary here,” I say, not understanding why in this moment I’m the voice of fucking reason. Not so long ago I was intent on making her mine in every way possible. My selfish need would’ve overridden any sense of right and wrong, but now that I know her like I do, I’m questioning everything.

“We’re going to be married soon, Dalton, and after that we need to make a baby.”

“Without fucking. You said that, remember?” I remind her.

“I do.” She sighs, glancing up at me, her eyes filled with a mix of embarrassment, confusion and desire. “But what if we… Never mind.”

“Say it. Just say what’s on your mind,” I demand, realising how close I am to saying fuck it to it all.

“I know what I said about you donating your sperm in a cup, but that was before,” she says softly, wincing a little.

“Before?”

“When we weren’t friends, Dalton. When I hadn’t told you about my past, and you hadn’t revealed your own pain. When you hadn’t put me first, and walked away when I’d offered myself to you. When we hadn’t spent time together, when we hadn’t kissed the way we did…” Her voice trails off as she frowns. “It seems so clinical now. Wrong somehow.”

“What are you saying?” I ask, my head fucking spinning.

“If we can’t make a baby because we’re in love with one another, by making love…” she adds, her voice wobbling. “At the very least I want us to both feel mutual pleasure, even if it’s by our own hands,” she continues on.

“This isn’t something I can do,” I say.

“Yet you can make me come on your motorbike,” she argues, hammering the point home.

“That was for you.”

“You don’t pleasure yourself?”

“All the fucking time,” I admit, with a shake of my head. “But I’ve never masturbated with a woman that hasn’t then led to fucking them. That’s the part I’m struggling with.”

“Will you at least try. For me?”

Jesus, she really doesn’t understand what she’s asking. “And if I can’t do this without wanting to step over the line you insisted on, one that has us both trapped in an impossible situation?”

“But what if I’ve changed my mind?” she whispers.

“You’re regretting saying it?” I ask.

“All I know is that I can’t bear this tension between us any longer. It’s too much, too overwhelming. You need release. I need release. For now, maybe this will be enough?”

For long moments I consider her request, oscillating between wanting to leave, wanting to stay and do what she’s asked, and wanting to haul her out of the bath, bend her over the lip and fuck her hard and fast.

“Dalton?”

Making a decision, I nod my head. “Okay, Daisy. We’ll try it your way,” I agree, my resolve crumbling.

With that, I begin to unbutton my shirt, revealing my bare chest covered in a multitude of tattoos as I pull my shirt free, dropping it to the floor. Daisy gasps, her eyes dropping to my heaving chest as my fingers fall to the zipper of my trousers, coasting over the dark trail of hair that leads to my groin.

“Are you certain?” I ask, giving her one last chance to change her mind.

“Yes,” she whispers, her trembling fingers drifting to her throat as she watches me kick off my loafers, and slide my trousers and boxers down my legs until I’m standing naked before her.

Daisy’s gaze roams my face before trailing down my body with a searing intensity that has my fucking pulse racing a hundred miles an hour, before finally coming to rest on my throbbing cock. She swallows hard, her throat working as she gulps down her nerves, and lifts her gaze to meet mine.

Gripping myself, I stroke my fist upwards, my eyes locked with Daisy’s. Her breath hitches as I moan, fucking lost to this raw, churning feeling inside my chest. Desire and lust battles with longing, creating a storm of sensations that threaten to consume me as her fingers trail down her chest, over her stomach finally coming to rest between her parted thighs. I can barely hear her soft, breathy moans over the sound of my own ragged breathing.

“Fuck, Daisy, what are we doing?” I groan, my balls tightening as my hand moves faster, mirroring the increased pace of her fingers stroking her clit.

“Don’t stop, Dalton, please,” she begs, and it’s as if my own hand is giving her pleasure right now.

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” I reply, my voice strained as I struggle to maintain control, the sound of her moans mixing with the blood pounding in my ears.

“I need to come,” she moans, and with reckless abandon, I begin to stroke myself harder and faster, my body singing with a wild, untamed energy as my pleasure gathers at the base of my spine, sending bolts of electricity to my aching balls and throbbing cock.

“Then come, Daisy. Come for me, like I’m going to come for you,” I say, my voice hoarse and ragged, my cock leaking pre-cum.

Daisy's eyes flutter shut, and her fingers quicken their pace, her hips jerking as she begins to lose herself to the sensation. A low, guttural moan escapes her lips, and she arches her back, pressing her palm harder against her clit as a wave of pleasure washes over her. I watch, transfixed as her stomach muscles contract, and she lets out a high-pitched cry, her body shaking as her orgasm crashes over her.

Seeing her come undone sends an electric current through my body, detonating my own orgasm. I let out a primal roar, my hand pumping fast as I push myself over the edge. With nothing to hold onto, I double over as I come, my body convulsing as hot spurts of cum explode from my dick, and into the palm of my hand. Jesus, I don’t think I’ve ever come as hard. Gasping for air, I slowly straighten up, the room fucking spinning as I stumble a little.

“Fuck!” I groan, my hands sticky with cum.

“Are you okay?” Daisy whispers, pushing upright, water sloshing over the edge of the bath as she moves. Her cheeks, neck and chest are flushed pink as beads of water trail over her too hot skin.

“I’m good,” I mutter, heat creeping into my cheeks as I stride towards the basin, and wash my hands. Fuck knows I need the distraction.

Once I’m cleaned up, I grip the basin, taking a deep, steadying breath, trying to regain my composure, but try as I might I can’t seem to catch my breath. I feel raw, exposed somehow, and the feeling is uncomfortable to say the least. Behind me I hear Daisy rise from the water, and out of the corner of my eye, she reaches for a bath towel, wrapping it around her body.

“Dalton?” she questions softly. “Are you okay?”

Forcing myself to look at her, I lift my gaze to meet hers in the mirror. “I’m good, Daisy,” I lie, not understanding what the fuck is wrong. Why, at this very moment, I want to run from the fucking room.

“You don’t seem okay,” she replies, stepping towards me, her fingertips tenderly brushing my back, setting off a cascade of electricity down my spine.

“That was…” I can’t seem to find the words to describe how I feel, because I don’t understand those feelings myself.

“Intense?” she offers.

“Yeah,” I agree, turning around to face her as I lean against the vanity unit. I’m still naked, and instead of feeling relief, I just feel out of sorts, exposed in a way I’ve never felt before.

“Dalton, talk to me,” she whispers, stepping closer, her hand coasting up my arm, leaving a trail of flames in her wake. “Have I ruined what we’ve taken so long to build?”

“No, Daisy,” I reply.

“What then?”

“I… just… fuck,” I mutter.

“Dalton?”

“It’s not enough,” I blurt out.

“What?”

“This isn’t enough. Not for me,” I reply, gripping the vanity unit so I don’t reach for her. “I want more. I want to fuck you, Daisy. I want to fuck you now.”

“But you’ve just…”

“Come? Yes, I have, and yet I’m still hard. Look at me. Look what you’re doing to me. I’m aching for you,” I say, my fucking voice cracking as I drop my gaze to my cock, the tip shiny and wet from my release. “I’m still hard, and if I don’t leave now, I’ll do something we both might regret later…”

“Then stay,” she whispers, reaching for her towel, and pulling it free.

It drops to the floor in a puddle at her feet. My eyes widen, my mouth parts as I stare at her naked beside me. Unable to help myself I turn to face her, reaching up to trace my fingers down the centre of her chest, mesmerised by the way her nipples peak from my touch.

“You don’t want this,” I protest, even though her body tells me otherwise, her eyes flaring with more heat.

“I want this,” she says firmly. “I want you.”

“Daisy, I’m still that man you once hated. Nothing’s changed,” I say, my hand falling away, balling into fists at my side.

“You’re wrong. Everything’s changed,” she whispers, her hand pressing against my chest, branding me with her touch. I wonder if she feels how my heart thumps for her? “I don’t hate you. I want this.”

“But I can’t make love to you,” I add, hoping that my honesty will put her off. I wish I could give her that. She deserves to be loved, to be made love to, but I can’t give her that. I’ve never been able to give that to anyone.

“I don’t need you to make love to me. I need you to fuck me,” she says, reaching for my hand and placing it over her breast, holding it there.

My throat bobs as I swallow, and my cock gets impossibly hard at the feel of her softness beneath my palm, the heat radiating from her skin. She’s so warm, so tempting.

“Daisy,” I warn, trying to pull my hand away, but her grip tightens, holding me in place.

“I thought that this would be enough too, but it isn’t. I’ve been telling myself that I can live without sex, but I need it just as much as you do. I want more. People have sex all the time and they’re not in love, so why can’t we?”

“But I thought you said…” I murmur, stepping closer, my feet moving of their own accord.

“I know what I said, and in an ideal world we’d make a baby by making love. But I’m not asking you to love me. This is just sex. We both want it. So why can't we just take what we want?” she asks softly, the confidence of her words belies her nervousness as her fingertips tremble against my skin.

“And yet when I asked to kiss you that night of our engagement party, and I said it didn’t have to mean anything, you said that it should mean something. Why is this any different?”

“Back then I didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?”

“I didn’t know you as well as I do now. I like you Dalton. You like me. Our relationship has evolved. We’re going to be married soon.”

“We are,” I agree.

“We both want sex…” Her voice trails off as she chews on her lip, no doubt considering what to say next. “And I want you to know that having sex with you does mean something to me.”

“What does it mean to you?” I ask, my hand gently massaging her breast. The way she feels in my palm, the way her body presses into my hold. Fuck, it’s…

“It means mutual pleasure. It means release, relief for the both of us. But more than that, regardless of whether we love each other or not, it means the possibility of conceiving a child, our child. That means so much to me,” she replies, her fingers coasting over my skin, feathering against the trail of hair leading to my cock.

“Our child,” I whisper, my fucking heart squeezing at the thought.

I know that’s what Daisy wants, what my father wants, and before this whole situation came about, being a father wasn’t something I’d ever truly considered, but since Daisy agreed to marry me, to bare my child, I knew I wanted to be a part of that child’s life in a way my father and mother have never been for me. It could be my opportunity to make things right.

“Yes. No matter what, we’ll have a child together, Dalton.”

“We will,”I agree, “But I still need you to be sure that you want to have sex with me, Daisy, because even though it would be difficult for me, I’m willing to jack off into a jar to protect your heart. I don’t want to put your emotions at risk by having sex with you. This is sex for the purpose of mutual pleasure, to conceive, but we’re not making love, okay?”

“I know that. I’m okay with that,” she insists.

I nod, searching her gaze for any hint of uncertainty. “There’s no going back after this,” I warn, reaching for her, my palm sliding into her hair as I tug on the strands, arching her neck back.

“I understand,” she breathes, pupils widening as the hard ridge of my cock slides against her belly.

“I will fuck you until you’re breathless, until you come so hard you’ll forget every other man who’s been inside of you. You’ll be mine, and you won’t be able to tell me to forget about this, because I won’t be able to do that. I will want you tomorrow, the next day, every day. You need to understand what you’re asking of me.”

My chest heaves and I try to tell myself to put an end to this, that this could all just be her way of papering over the cracks despite everything she’s said, but when her warm hand circles my cock, all rational thought leaves my fucking head.

I’m done for.

“I’m sure, Dalton. Please just fuck me,” she begs, and her hand on my cock and those words are like a bullet obliterating my self-control.

“Let go of me,” I grind out, releasing her from my hold.

She sucks in a breath, her fingers slipping from my cock. “Dalton, I told you that I want this.”

I stare at her for long moments, long enough to see her confidence begin to crumble, long enough to know that I can’t walk out of this bathroom without burying myself deep inside of her.

“Fuck it,” I grind out on an exhale of breath.

“What?”

“I said put your hands on the vanity unit, and spread your fucking legs.”.

For a beat, all I can feel is the pulse of my dick throbbing in time to the beat of my heart, and her soft breath against my skin. Endless seconds tick by as I wait for her to change her mind.

Except she doesn’t.

She turns around and does exactly what I’ve asked, her eyes locking with mine in the reflection of the mirror as her wet hair hangs in unruly curls around her face.

“Good girl,” I murmur, loving how that sounds, how she shudders from my touch when I reach for her waist, my hands gliding over the curve of her hips. For a moment all I can do is stare at Daisy, admiring the freckles scattered across her creamy skin, the swell of her arse, the two tiny dimples in her lower back.

“You’re so fucking stunning,” I say as I lean forward, swiping her hair from her neck, then sink my teeth into the tender flesh of her shoulder, claiming her.

“Dalton,” she whimpers, dragging in a sharp breath as our eyes clash in the mirror.

“There’s no going back now,” I repeat as my lips find her ear. “Bend over, Daisy. Bare yourself to me.”

With a soft exhale she leans forward and presses her forearms either side of the sink, giving me a full view of her peachy arse and her glistening slit.

“That’s it,” I croon, my hand reaching forward to run my palm down her spine. She quakes beneath my touch, her pussy wet with arousal as I slide my fingers down her arse crack and between her parted folds. “You’re so fucking wet. You want me badly, don’t you?”

“Yes, I want you,” she whimpers, pushing back against my hand, moaning as my finger circles her clit. I rub against the tiny nub until her mouth falls open and her breath begins to hitch.

“Every part of you belongs to me now,” I say, gripping my cock and fisting myself as I slide my fingers inside of her pussy, fucking her with them. “From this moment on, there won’t be any part of your body off limits to me. I will claim your mouth, your pussy, your arse. I will take you in every possible way, Daisy. I will pinken your skin with my hand. I will suck on your beautiful tits until you come. I will lick every inch of your skin. I will fuck you until you can’t take anymore, and then I will fuck you again, and again, and again.”

“God, stop teasing me,” she whimpers.

“Say my name, Daisy,” I command, slipping out of her and pinching her clit roughly.

She gasps, eyes flaring wide, her body tensing. Our eyes meet in the mirror as she says, “Dalton, just fuck me.”

I lose it.

Every single thought that tells me that I’m making a huge fucking mistake leaves my head as I grip my cock, line myself at her opening, then slam into her with one firm thrust, shunting her body forward.

She cries out, pressing her hand against the mirror to prevent herself from colliding with it as I fuck her hard and fast. I’m not gentle. There’s no tenderness. This is weeks and weeks of built up tension as I sink my cock deep inside of her.

“You wanted this!” I accuse, slamming into her over and over as she pants and groans, her cries echoing around the bathroom. “You wanted me to fuck you. This is what it feels like, Daisy!”

“Yes,” she hisses as I ram into her, my hand reaching for her hair as I tug on it, her neck arching as I drive into her over and over and over again.

This is as far from making love as two people can get, and I’m mindless, my ability to be a thoughtful lover going out of the fucking window. Every part of my consciousness hones in on the way her pussy squeezes my cock, how she cries out as though in blissful agony. My free hand grasps her hip hard enough to bruise, and I should care, but I don’t.

I want to mark her.

I want her to feel what I feel. Frenzied. Out of control. Fucking mindless.

I give in to everything we’ve both been fighting so hard against.

“Oh, that feels so good,” she cries, driving me insane. “You feel so good.”

“I. Can’t. Love. You,” I counter, thrusting inside of her with every word, warning her of everything I’m incapable of.

Except they don’t feel like a fucking warning at all, they feel like a goddamn lie. So I say those words again in an attempt to blot out the riot of emotions in my chest at how it feels to finally be inside of her.

“I.”

Thrust

“Can’t.”

Thrust.

“Love.”

Thrust.

“You.”

Thrust.

Sex has never been about feelings, it’s only ever been about pleasure, and I’m angry at her for drawing something out of me that I’m not willing to give up. So I push those thoughts away and bury myself so deep inside of her that I feel the crown of my dick hitting her cervix.

“I don’t love you either,” she cries back, pushing against me, taking everything I give and meeting the frantic rock of my hips with a frenziedness of her own.

Her words anger me. They shouldn’t, but they do because she didn’t say she can’t love me. She said she doesn’t love me when I know she’s more than capable of loving others.

Inexplicably, that hurts. It fucking hurts.

So I go harder, faster, driving her forward, rutting like a mindless beast. My cock throbs with fury as I slam into her over and over, the sound of our bodies colliding echoing around the bathroom. She's taking it all, every thrust, every harsh whisper, every primitive grunt as I lose myself to the animalistic need to possess her, own her, ruin her until she’s mine.

The words 'I can’t love you' bounce around my head, seeming as hollow as the air we're breathing. They were spoken reflexively, a reaction to this moment, but they resonate within my chest, a nagging reminder of the lies I’ve been telling myself, her, and I hate myself for it.

I try to drive away those thoughts by wrapping her hair around my clenched fist and fucking her mercilessly. Every stroke brings a mixture of agony and pleasure that threatens to consume me whole. Her cries fill the bathroom, mingling with the sounds of our bodies slapping together, driving us both to the edge.

“I’m going to come!” she cries and I feel her muscles clench around me, signalling her oncoming release. I'm right behind her, unable to hold back any longer.

“Come for me. Come for me, Daisy. Milk my fucking cock!” I roar, and with one final, powerful thrust, I spill inside her, our bodies shaking with the intensity of our union.

We collapse together, gasping for air, our hearts beating in sync as the aftershocks of our orgasms ripple through us. My chest is against her back, my heart slamming against my ribcage, her body quaking.

For long moments, we simply remain joined together, my body over hers as we bask in the raw, unbridled passion that has consumed us. Then, as the last pulses of our pleasure fade, reality seeps back in, and I find myself growing ashamed of my own actions. The words I spoke to her, the way I lost control and fucked her in a way I’ve never truly done before, and I’m not talking about being rough, I’m talking about the feelings she’s conjured within me. Too much emotion whirls inside my chest, and it all feels like a nightmare I can't wake up from.

Pulling out of her, I step back on shaky legs, running a hand through my hair as she pushes upright, turning to face me. Her face is flushed, her pupils blown wide, her chest heaving as she stares at me, a host of conflicting emotions rushing across her features. My eyes drop to her thighs, and the red line that crosses the tops of them from me ramming her against the vanity unit.

“Daisy, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so rough–”

“Don’t apologise. I wanted this. You wanted this. I’m okay. Are you?” she asks tentatively.

Am I okay? The truthful answer is, no. No, I’m not fucking okay. I might have come, but I don’t feel relief, I feel fucking churned up inside.

Raw. Confused. Fucking lost.

“Can I hold you?” I blurt out, needing to pull her close, not understanding why, but wanting to hold her more than anything.

This isn’t what I do. I don’t hold women in comfort after sex. I avoid affection like it’s the fucking plague, but right now I want to hold her. I need reassurance, and that’s something I’ve never, ever, needed before. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Of course,” she replies gently, pressing her body against mine as I wrap my arms around her back. She leans her cheek against my bare chest, her warm breath causing goosebumps to scatter over my skin as her arms circle my waist.

“Jesus,” I whisper under my breath as I try and fail to make sense of my emotions.

“What?” She looks up at me, her eyes searching mine.

“It’s nothing,” I say, dropping my head and pressing my lips against her forehead in a tender kiss, my thoughts reeling. I don’t know what the fuck we’re doing, what the fuck I’m doing.

“Okay,” she whispers, but we both know that something fundamental has shifted between us and neither of us are ready to face what that means.