The Rogue and His Flower (Princetown Heirs #2)

Chapter 21

DAISY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“This is the amusement arcade,” I point out as Dalton wraps his arm around my waist and grins, his cheeks a little pink from the chill evening air as we step inside the building.

It’s the first time we’ve been able to have some alone time together after having sex a few days ago, and whilst I love the arcade, it wasn’t where I was expecting him to take me when he said we were going out on a date. I’m pleasantly surprised.

“It is,” he agrees, guiding me towards the machine that churns out coins when you insert a note. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet, sliding a fifty pound note into the machine, the sound of children’s laughter and childish squeals lifting up into the air around us.

“I love the amusement arcade,” I say, smiling.

“I know that too,” he replies, gathering up the coins into two separate cups and handing me one. “I thought we could have a competition.”

“A competition?”

“Yes, whoever wins the most tickets gets to choose what we do next,” he explains, wiggling his brows in the most ridiculously cute way that I can’t help but laugh. Dalton has never been cute. He’s suave, charming, sure, but never cute. Today he’s revealing a playful side that I never knew existed. It looks good on him.

“You do realise that I spent my childhood in this place?”

“Maybe so, but I’m very competitive, and I’m not about to lose,” he warns with a smirk, tucking his wallet back into his pocket, grabbing my hand and dragging me over to the motorcycle video game where two kids are arguing over which bike they get to ride on.

“Wait, no fair, you have an advantage,” I protest.

“I’ll try not to lap you more than twice,” he replies, smirking, before turning his attention to the young boys still bickering, and tapping the older one on the shoulder. “Hey, I’ll give you ten pounds each if you let us go first.”

“Ten pounds? Each?” the boy repeats, eyes widening.

“Yes,” he replies, pulling out two crisp, ten pound notes from his wallet.

They snatch them from his hand, grinning, before running off to the coin machine.

“Are you going to do that all night long, pay off the kids so we can go first?”

“I’m not a particularly patient man, Daisy,” he replies with a shrug.

“You’re incorrigible,” I reply, choosing the red bike over the blue one.

“Hey, I wanted the red bike,” Dalton says, popping out his bottom lip in faux disappointment.

I reach up and tug on it. “Too bad, too sad. Now come on, sling your leg over the bike, and prepare to get your arse whipped.”

“I think you’ll find that it will be you who’ll be getting your arse whipped if you lose,” he replies, and there’s not a hint of a smile on his face as he gives me a salacious look. His eyes drop to my legs, my pink woollen skirt having ridden up over my knee to reveal my deep purple stockings.

“Is that a promise?”

“No, it’s a certainty,” he grins, tugging on a strand of my hair. “Especially if those are stockings and not tights.”

“Take your mind out of the gutter, racer boy, and get your head into the game,” I retort, grabbing two pound coins from my cup, and sliding them into the slot.

He laughs, settling onto the blue motorbike.

As the screen comes to life, and the game lights up, Dalton and I exchange competitive glances before the countdown begins.

3…

“Get ready to lose, Daisy.”

2…

“Get ready to eat your words, Dalton,” I counter with a wink.

1…

The sound of roaring engines fills the air, blending with the laughter and excitement of the other patrons as I grip the handlebars tightly, turning the throttle. Determined to show Dalton what I'm made of, I take the lead, laughter bubbling up my chest as he grumbles something unintelligible, the weight of his body making the mechanical motorbike groan as he leans from side to side. He might be an expert on a real race track, but he doesn’t realise that I hold the highest score on this particular game, and have done so for years.

With a determined set of my jaw, I navigate the twists and turns of the digital race track, Dalton hot on my tail as we speed through virtual city streets, neon lights flashing as we race.

“The fuck?” Dalton laughs, as he realises a little too late that I’m beating his arse.

Weaving through the traffic effortlessly, I dodge obstacles, hitting speed boosts with precision. Dalton’s grin falters as he struggles to keep up, his bike crashing into virtual cars left and right in his haste to catch up with me. I can’t help but laugh as a stream of curse words erupt from his lips. With one final burst of speed, I surge ahead, crossing the finish line way ahead of Dalton. The machine dings loudly, signalling my victory with onscreen fireworks and flashing lights.

“You’ve got to do better than that, racer boy,” I tease.

Dalton stares at his screen in disbelief before turning to me with a mixture of admiration and amusement. “Okay, okay, you won this game,” he concedes, a playful glint in his eye, “But just you wait until the next game. I won’t go easy on you. This was just a warm-up. I was testing you.”

“Sure you were,” I laugh.

“Get ready, Daisy, because I’m not about to lose again.”

“You’re on,” I reply, slipping off the motorbike.

With a smile tugging my lips, I slide my hand into Dalton’s as we head to the next game, more than ready to whoop his arse once more. An hour later I have one hundred more tickets than he does, and I smother a smile as we wait in line at the kiosk to exchange those tickets for a nominal prize.

“Well, shit,” Dalton mutters, side-eying me as I slurp happily on my blueberry slushy.

“What was that?” I ask, cupping my ear with a smirk. “Did you have something you wanted to say?”

“I didn’t realise you had so many hidden talents.”

“Oh, I have many hidden talents,” I reply with a raised brow, wrapping my lips around the straw provocatively before sucking the sweet liquid into my mouth.

He groans, and I step forward, smiling sweetly at the attendant.

“What can I get you?” the teenager asks, his eyes flicking to Dalton, who wraps his arm around my waist and tugs me into his side as he buries his nose into my hair.

“What can I get for three hundred and fifty two tickets?” I ask, my eyes grazing over the plastic toys, stuffed animals, and sweet treats lining the shelves behind him, my cheeks heating at the way Dalton coasts his hand over my arse then lower as he feels the ridge of my stockings.

“Thought as much,” he mutters, and I smile internally.

“Anything on the middle shelf,” the attendant says, pointing to a row of stuffed toys, completely oblivious to the fact I’m being felt up so indecently.

My gaze coasts along the shelf, before noticing a small crystal unicorn tucked onto the end of the top shelf. I point to it. “What about that?” I ask, swallowing a moan as Dalton’s hand slides back up over my arse and squeezes.

“That’s worth five hundred tickets,” he replies, giving me a shrug.

“Ah, never mind, I’ll grab the pink teddy instead,” I say, handing him my tickets.

“Here, take mine. That’s more than five hundred together,” Dalton says, shoving his tickets at the boy.

“Don’t you want your own prize? That toy Ferrari would look great on your desk at work,” I tease.

“I’ve got a real one in the garage back home,” he counters, winking at me before turning his attention back to the attendant. “The unicorn, please,” he insists.

“Sure thing,” the attendant replies as he retrieves the crystal unicorn from its spot on the shelf, and hands it to me. “Congratulations on your win. Enjoy your prize!” He gives us both a practised smile before turning his attention to the people waiting patiently behind us.

“So what next, champion?” Dalton asks me as we slowly weave our way through the arcade, his arm still around my waist.

My gaze flicks to the back of the amusement arcade and the House of Mirrors. “How about we get lost in there,” I say, pointing to the entrance.

“The House of Mirrors?” Dalton chuckles. “Well, I can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure. Why not?”

“You’ve never been inside?” I ask, my brows lifting in surprise as I tuck the crystal unicorn into the pocket of my skirt.

He shrugs. “Nope.”

“I mean, I have to say I’m surprised given how much you like to look at yourself,” I joke, and he gives me a pretend hurt look before tickling my side in punishment.

“Low blow, Daisy. Low blow.”

I squeal, untangling myself from his hold and batting his hands away. “Don’t! I’m ticklish!”

He grins wickedly. “Good to know.”

When we reach the entrance, the bored looking attendant guarding the door gives us both a once over, then says, “It’s shutting for the evening. I’m just waiting for the last people to exit. Sorry.”

“Oh, never mind,” I reply with a shrug, twisting on my heel, but when Dalton isn’t beside me, I turn to look over my shoulder to find him surreptitiously handing the attendant a wad of notes, and muttering something in his ear.

“What are you doing?” I ask, looking about to see if anyone has noticed him paying off the kid.

“Paying over and above the fee to get inside,” he replies nonchalantly.

“It’s not worth that much money,” I point out, as the attendant pockets the roll of notes and steps aside as the last few people exit the room.

“I haven’t looked at myself in a mirror all day. I rather miss my face,” Dalton replies with a grin.

Laughter bubbles out of my throat as the attendant holds open the door, and we slip inside the darkened entrance. I’m immediately enchanted by the labyrinth of illusions, each mirror reflecting our images in a myriad of ways as we follow the path through the maze. I burst out laughing when I catch Dalton’s distorted reflection in one particular mirror, his body made tiny and his head impossibly huge.

“So handsome,” I joke as he frowns.

“I look like one of those plastic toys Drix loves to collect,” he protests, shifting his body to see if his reflection changes.

“It’s a good look on you, matches that huge ego you have,” I reply, grinning as he grumbles something under his breath. “Come on Mr Vanity, let’s keep going.”

Following me, we pass through a corridor of mirrors, lit up in different coloured neon lights, each one playing tricks with our eyes and leading us further into the maze. We can’t help but stop and admire the distorted versions of ourselves, each mirror reflecting elongated limbs, shrunken heads, and exaggerated features that has us both giggling like children. We keep going, weaving through the maze as we try to navigate our way to the centre. Dalton’s hand finds mine, his fingers tangling with my own.

“This is fun,” he admits.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” I reply as we pass more mirrors and head deeper into the maze. “Oh, if I remember correctly we should be near the centre. I love this part.”

And as we turn the corner, we step into a room of mirrors that is designed in such a way that it makes us appear as if we are floating in a sea of stars, our reflections shimmering in the dim light.

“Now this is cool,” Dalton says, his eyes widening in wonder.

“Cool?” I snort with laughter. “That is not a word I ever expected to come out of your mouth.”

“I’ll have you know, my vocabulary is vast and diverse. I’m particularly good at dirty talk,” he replies, his fingers tightening around mine as he tugs me against his chest.

“Is that so?” I tease, arching a brow as he runs his hand down my back and grabs my arse, squeezing it.

“Definitely. Want to hear some?” he asks, dropping his mouth to my ear.

“Why not? Let’s see what you’re made of,” I reply, tingles of excitement rushing down my spine as he chuckles softly.

“Dirty talk doesn’t really have the same effect if we’re not actually being dirty,” he retorts, capturing the lobe of my ear between his teeth and nibbling gently. A smile spreads across my face as he pulls me into his body.

“We’re in public, Dalton,” I protest weakly, my voice breathless as his lips trail down my neck.

“We’re in a maze of mirrors with no one else about,” he counters, his tongue trailing circles over my pulse point.

“There might be cameras,” I argue.

“There are, but I paid the attendant to turn them off. See,” he says, pointing to a camera I can just about make out in the corner of the room, “No red light.”

“You have this all planned out.”

“What can I say? I really want to sink my cock inside of you and feel how wet you are for me right now.”

“Dalton,” I caution, but my tone lacks any real conviction. In fact, it comes across more as a plea than a threat.

“Are you dripping for me, Daisy? Is your clit aching to be touched?” he asks, drawing his lips back up my neck and across my jaw, his mouth hovering over mine. “Are you as turned on as I am right now, knowing I’m about to fuck you so hard that your screams will be heard all the way down the street, let alone in the amusement arcade?”

I gasp as his words send a jolt of desire straight to my core, everything heightened by his dirty mouth and his touch. “You’re very sure of yourself.”

“Stop trying to delay the inevitable, we both know you’re desperate for me,” he accuses against my lips. “Show me, Daisy. Show me just how wet you are.”

Without thinking, I slip my hand beneath the waistband of my skirt, then my knickers, brushing my fingers through my drenched core. My eyes stutter shut briefly as I tease my clit.

“I didn’t tell you to finger-fuck yourself,” Dalton warns, gripping my forearm and dragging it back up. Holding my arm, he smirks, eyeing my glistening fingers. “Thought so.”

With a growl he captures my fingers with his lips, drawing them into his mouth, humming around the taste. I stare at him, my mouth popping open as he twirls his tongue around my fingers, sucking them clean.

“Fucking delicious.”

“I’m—”

“Going to fuck you now,” he grinds out, and without another word, he spins me around and pushes me against the nearest wall of mirrors, his hands grabbing my hips. “Palms against the mirror. Eyes on me.”

As Dalton’s hands grip my hips, I obey, pressing my palms against the cool surface, meeting his eyes in the reflection before us. I feel the heat of his body behind me, his breath hot against my neck.

“When I slide my cock inside of you, I want you to know that every sound you make, every word you say, every thrashing beat of your heart and thrum of your pulse is because of me and what I’m doing to you,” he grinds out.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“You’re pleasure is mine,” he says, gripping my skirt, gathering the material and rolling it over my hips, tucking it into my waistband. Then he grabs my arse, and says “This delicious arse is mine.”

“Yours,” I agree.

“This pussy,” he says, reaching between my legs and cupping me over the fabric of my knickers, “Is mine to fuck.”

“That too,” I whimper, as he pushes the material of my knickers to one side and presses two of his fingers inside of me. I gasp, eyes fluttering shut as he finger-fucks me steadily, the motion making me moan, making me wetter, hotter, needier.

“Eyes. On. Me,” he repeats, and my eyelids snap open, our gazes clashing. “Does that feel good, Daisy?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like the way I stroke you, how I bury my fingers deep inside your dripping cunt?”

“Yes,” I hiss, rocking against his hand. I like it way, way too much.

“Pull your top up, let me see your beautiful tits,” he commands.

I push off from the mirror, following his command as I gather up my top and bra, freeing my breasts, and tucking the material of my top beneath the elastic of my bra. His free hand comes up to cup me, his fingers pinching my nipple. “These tits–”

“Are yours to play with,” I finish for him.

“Damn right,” he grumbles, groaning as he presses a wet kiss to my cheek, still pumping his fingers inside of me.

I can feel my core throbbing with need, his expert fingers sending waves of pleasure through me, his words edging me higher. With growing urgency, I grind myself against his hand, wanting more. He adds another finger, stretching me further, and I cry out, arching into him.

“What do you want, Daisy?” he rasps, his voice low and husky. “Do you want me to make you come with my fingers first, or should I just plunge my cock into your pussy right now?”

His fingers crook inside of me, touching that spot deep inside that makes me cry out in bliss. “I want both,” I gasp, my breaths becoming shallower, my hips bucking against his hand.

“Then that’s what you’ll get.”

His fingers pump faster, and I feel my core tightening, my whole body tingling with sensation as my head falls back against his shoulder. “Yes, just like that,” I groan, my oncoming orgasm building deep inside as my internal muscles ripple, then tighten.

“My cock aches to be inside of you. Can you feel how hard I am?”

“Yes,” I retort, feeling the hard ridge of his cock pressing into my lower back.

“I think about being inside of you all the time. It’s all I fucking think about, Daisy. The way you whimper and moan, the way your pretty tits swell when you’re turned on, how your nipples peak. I think about your plump lips, and the taste of your tongue. ”

“I think about you too,” I admit. “The way you fucked me, like you couldn’t hold back, like you would die if you didn’t fuck me.”

“I would die a happy man deep inside your cunt,” he growls, his fingers pumping harder, his thumb edging the rim of my arsehole, making me gasp then whimper as he pushes his thick digit inside of me. “But not before I’ve claimed your arse. I want that too. I want your mouth on my cock, I want my lips on your pussy. I want to fuck you in every position imaginable. I would die if I couldn’t have that. Say you’ll let me.”

“Yes, take it all,” I groan.

“Then come for me, Daisy. Come for me now, because I can’t hold out a second longer,” he demands roughly.

And just like the other night, I come on his command, splintering around him, my internal muscles gripping him tightly as pleasure rocks through me, making me arch and shudder. My breaths come in short, sharp pants as I struggle to catch my breath.

“That’s it,” he croons, still stroking me deeply. “So wet for me.”

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” I pant, head dropping forward as he gently pulls his fingers free.

I sway on my feet, my legs feeling wobbly from the intense orgasm as his snakes around my waist and he holds me steady.

He lifts his fingers, wet from my arousal, to his mouth and sucks on them. “You taste so fucking good,” he says.

“Dalton…” My voice trails off as he reaches up and grips my jaw, turning my head to the side as he shifts position, kissing me deeply. I can taste myself on him as he licks into my mouth, and I twine my fingers in his hair, kissing him back, nipping his bottom lip.

“Fuck, Daisy,” he mutters, pulling back. As our gazes clash I falter, feeling a wave of… lust and affection. I wonder if he feels that too. “I’m so turned on. I’ve been hard for days ever since we fucked in your bathroom. I’ve wanked off thinking about that moment, how you bent over for me, how your pussy dripped for me, how you squeezed my damn cock so tight I saw a blaze of stars—just like these ones—behind my eyelids.”

“Then fuck me, Dalton. Make me see stars,” I say, begging for more, my core contracting, desperate for his cock.

“Believe me, I’m gonna give you the whole fucking universe by the time we’re done,” he murmurs, reaching between us to unzip his fly and pull out his erection, allowing the length of his cock to rest against my arse as he shoves down his jeans and boxers past his hips.

“Palms back on the mirror,” he orders. “Now, Daisy!”

When I don’t do as I’m told immediately, because I’m still recovering from the aftershocks of my orgasm, he raises his hand and slaps my arse.

“Ow!” I cry, the sting spreading out across my arse and the base of my spine, making me jerk away from him.

“Don’t do as I say when I command it, and that’s what will happen,” he warns with a growl, gripping my hip with one hand, whilst stroking the other over the stinging burn from his slap. My core tightens from the sensory overload, my clit throbbing as though that slap was sent straight to the tight bundle of nerves pulsating there, and his gentle strokes only add to the intensity. Pain, pleasure, it all rolls into one, heightening everything.

“Dalton…” I murmur, shocked by my reaction, because I liked the sharp sting of the slap, but more than that, I love the blissful way my body reacted to it and the way he’s soothing me afterwards. I like it a lot. So I don’t put my hands on the mirror, my gaze locking with his in our reflection with challenge.

“So you liked that, huh?” he asks softly, tipping his head sideways as he studies me.

I don’t reply with words, I simply arch my spine, giving him my arse. Needing to see if I truly do like it. Given my history, I’m not sure why that is.

“There you go again, surprising me, Daisy Hammer,” he murmurs, his hand hovering in the air as he eyes me. “I’m going to spank you once again on each cheek, then I’ll soothe the sting, okay? If it’s too much, you tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

I nod, bracing myself.

Shifting his body sideways, he wraps one arm around my waist and then he slaps my right arse cheek, pausing a moment to see if it’s too much. The pain is intense and immediate, but I don’t tell him to stop, I simply wait. He spanks me again on my left arse cheek and the soothing way he strokes me afterwards sends me into an almost catatonic state. My mouth pops open, my eyes roll into the back of my head, my knees turn to jelly, and my body quakes. If I was dripping for him before from the orgasm he drew out of me with his fingers, then I’m soaking for him now.

“Hmm, I can smell your arousal from here,” he says before reaching between my legs and swiping his fingers through my folds. “Just as I thought. Do you get enjoyment from me spanking you?” he asks, looking intently at me.

“I don’t know. Yes, maybe…” I say, trying to figure that out. “It hurts, but then… it feels good, especially when you stroke me afterwards,” I stutter out, still trying, and failing, to focus on anything more than holding myself upright. It’s just as well he has his arm tightly cinched around my waist.

“I like to see your skin pinken from my hand,” he admits. “I like discovering what turns you on.”

“I think I like that too.”

“Fuck, Daisy, where have you been all my life?” he asks.

“I’ve been right here, Dalton,” I reply softly.

“You have, haven’t you?” he whispers, pressing his body against mine, still keeping me upright. “We’ll bench this discussion for later, but right now I’m going to fuck you. Hands on the mirror , widen your stance.”

This time I do as I’m told, and as our gazes lock, he lines up the head of his dick with my entrance and slowly pushes himself inside me until I’m lifting up onto my tiptoes, trying to adjust to our height difference. My eyelids stutter shut as I feel him twitch inside of me, slotting into place, as though he is a puzzle piece I didn’t realise I was missing.

“Fuck, Daisy, the way you fist my cock. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.”

He groans as he seats himself fully, filling me with his length, and it feels… He feels so right. My heart soars, and try as I might I can’t contain the rush of emotions. I try to push them aside, pressing back against him so that I’m distracted by how his cock swells inside of me, and not how it feels to be in his arms. Like it’s the only place I’ll ever find true happiness.

“You’re everything,” he whispers, his hips slowly rolling against me as he begins to set a steady rhythm.

“Everything?” I murmur back, my breath catching.

“You fit me perfectly, Daisy.”

I moan, feeling the pleasure building inside of me once again, the heat between us growing more intense. “Fuck me harder,” I beg, pushing my hips back to meet his thrusts, as my cheek presses against the mirrored wall.

He obliges, his arm tightening around my waist as he curls over me, grinding into me deeper. “That’s it, Daisy,” Dalton praises, his voice rough, bathed in lust. “Take my cock, take every last inch. Let me hear you scream my name as you come for me.”

"I’m already so close,” I cry out, shocked at how easily he seems to draw out my orgasms, at how my body responds to him.

He glides his cock steadily into me, his cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside, over and over, and I can feel myself nearing the edge, the intensity of my impending orgasm building with every thrust.

“Then come!” he orders, slamming into me.

That’s all it takes, and I shatter, my mind blanking out for a moment as white-hot pleasure courses through me, and my internal muscles ripple around his dick, milking his cock.

“Fuck, Daisy. Fuck! You’re so tight,” he shouts, his thrusts becoming erratic as he fights against his own release. His breathing is ragged, his face contorted as he curses under his breath.

“Come for me, Dalton!” I reply, loving how that command sounds, how powerful it makes me feel to demand his release just like he’s demanded mine from me.

“Fuuuuccckkkk!” he groans, his body tensing as he surges forward, pressing me harder against the mirrored wall. I can feel him unloading inside of me, his cock pulsating as his sperm coats my insides in long, hot spurts.

Our hot breaths steam up the mirror until, eventually, Dalton presses a chaste kiss against my cheek, and withdraws out of me, tucking himself away with shaky hands.

“God-fucking-dammit, that was intense,” he mutters, staring at the ground, unable to meet my eyes as I turn around to face him.

“I’m not sure he’s listening. Pretty sure you’re on his shit list.”

“Shit list?” he questions, a look of utter bewilderment on his face.

“For sinning,” I joke, pressing my lips together as I try not to laugh.

“What the hell are you doing to me, Daisy?” he asks, shaking his head. I can’t interpret the look on his face, and my smile fades. It’s though he’s caught somewhere between regret and bliss, confusion and longing.

I can relate to that, because I feel the exact same way. What exactly is happening here?

When we fuck, I’m there with him in the moment, enjoying every second, and yet afterwards there’s this weird, uncertain energy between us. It was the same the other night.

“I could ask the same of you,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper as I ease my bra and top down, before adjusting my underwear and skirt. The woollen material of my skirt feels rough over my sensitive skin, our combined release soaking my knickers.

“Daisy?” he questions, stepping towards me and cupping my cheek, as a deep groove forms between his brows as he frowns.

“What?”

“This is just sex, right, just like we agreed?”

I pause for a moment, trying to dive deep into myself and search for the truth, my feelings as tumultuous as this moment between us appears to be. “It’s just sex,” I finally agree, plastering on a smile.

The relief in his eyes hurts more than it should, given our agreement, yet the way his fingers trace the curve of my jaw almost reverently makes me question everything, the deceiving tenderness igniting a fiery ache in my chest that’s impossible to ignore.

“A man could get used to this,” he murmurs, brushing the pad of his thumb over my lips.

“Get used to what, fucking in a hall of mirrors?” I ask, laughing softly, trying for a lighthearted response.

Dalton chuckles, but the sound is strained. “Yeah.”

“Well it’s just as well, because we’re going to be married soon,” I reply, my heart aching with each word, because despite all the laughter today, the incredible sex, he can’t ever love me.

“Yes we are,” he agrees, and I have to remind myself that we’re just two friends fucking, two people who are contracted to marry each other, and will eventually have a child together.

We’re not in love, but when he drops his mouth to my lips and kisses me with tenderness, my resolve to keep him firmly in the ‘friends who fuck’ category starts to crumble.