The Rogue and His Flower (Princetown Heirs #2)

Chapter 28

DALTON

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The next week of our honeymoon passes in a haze of laughter, conversation, and shared orgasms. Daisy and I spend all of our time together, and not a minute passes without being in each other’s company. We don’t fuck, and it isn’t because I don’t want to, it’s because the next time I bury myself inside of Daisy I want to do it out of love.

Right now I’m still learning, still grappling with my feelings, still trying to unravel years worth of trauma from never having felt love from my parents. All I know for certain is that if I could ever love someone, it would be her. Bottom line is, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to be the man she needs.

“Hey, Dalton, would you like to have dinner out tonight, or stay in?” Daisy asks, interrupting my thoughts as she steps out onto the deck, her hair piled up on top of her head, her body wrapped in a long white towel after taking a shower.

The sun has already slipped past the horizon, and the air seems cooler tonight than it has been since we’ve arrived. In the distance I can hear a rumble of thunder, and the first spots of rain begin to hit the deck in huge, fat droplets.

“I guess we’re staying in tonight,” I say, pushing back my chair and taking Daisy’s hand in mine, leading her inside. “Looks like a storm’s coming in.”

“We can call for room service, or if you’d like I can throw something together? There’s still plenty of cold cuts in the fridge and fresh fruit. I’m not all that hungry anyway, my stomach is a little bloated from all the overindulging,” she says with a soft laugh.

“Or maybe it’s the baby I’ve put inside of you,” I joke, knowing it’s a real possibility. She laughs, her eyes softening at the thought as her hand absentmindedly rubs her belly. “You really want this child, don’t you?”

“You don’t?” she asks, leaning against the kitchen island as she regards me.

“I want to make you happy…” My voice trails off as I consider her question.

“But?” She winces a little, and I hate seeing her expression change to one of uncertainty.

“No buts. I want to make you happy. I like the idea of you growing our child inside of you,” I admit. “I also happen to like all the occasions we’ve been practising to make that happen these past few weeks.”

“Me too,” she agrees with a soft whisper.

“Want to try some more?” I offer, stepping towards her, my fingers trailing over the bare skin of her arm.

She cocks her head to the side, a smile tilting up her lips. “We’ve barely been out of the bedroom this past week. I’m beginning to wonder if you have any sperm left.”

“Believe me, I have plenty.”

“Is that so?” she laughs as my fingers edge beneath the towel, tugging on it.

“Uh huh,” I murmur, easing open the towel, sucking in a ragged breath at her bare skin and tight nipples.

My fingers trail around her breasts, circling them, but not cupping them as I draw ever decreasing circles across the swell of her tits.

“You’re very good at this,” she says, her breath hitching as I pinch her nipples, tugging on them.

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” I say, instantly regretting my words when she stiffens.

“Don’t remind me.”

“Are you jealous, wife?”

“A little,” she admits.

“You’ve no need to be. No one has affected me the way you do,” I reply, leaning over her as I stand between her parted legs, and brace my hands on the island on either side of her body.

“That’s good to know… husband,” she adds, knowing full well what hearing her say that does to me.

“I like being your husband,” I say, pressing my lips against the curve of her neck, and my words into her skin.

“I like it too,” she replies, sighing as I feather kisses over her shoulder blade.

“And I especially like making you come.”

“I enjoy that as well. So, so much…”

Her breath catches as I dip downwards and circle her nipple with my tongue, before suctioning it into my mouth. She arches into my touch, her body responding beautifully as I cup her other breast, my thumb circling her nipples, eliciting another soft moan. Still sucking on her, I reach between her legs, swiping my fingers between her slit, gathering her wetness before circling her clit.

“Fuck, you’re always so wet for me. Do you realise how much that turns me on, knowing what I do to you?”

“I hadn’t noticed,” she laughs, dropping her hand to my erection, squeezing it gently.

“I’m always so fucking hard for you, Daisy. I can’t get enough.”

She whimpers as I enter her tight cunt, plunging my finger in and out of her in a steady, even rhythm, loving how she blushes for me. It makes her seem so fucking pure, and yet she’s a vixen, so eager to please me, to receive pleasure.

“Get up onto the counter,” I demand, removing my hand from between her legs as I grip her around the waist and hoist her onto the marble countertop before she’s even had a chance to do it herself.

“What are you doing?” she asks, as I round the counter and head towards the fridge, pulling open the door and gathering the freshly cut fruit left over from our lunch earlier, placing the plate on the surface beside her.

“You want to eat right now?” she asks, eyeing me with raised brows.

“Yes,” I reply, picking up a slither of papaya, and returning to her. “Now lie back.”

She doesn’t hesitate, curious, yet willing.

Lowering the slice of papaya to her lips I say, “Open your mouth, taste.”

She parts her lips and I slide the slice of papaya between them. She hums, her eyes never once leaving mine as she tastes the sweet juices.

“Don’t take a bite, just yet,” I order, pulling it free, remnants of juice on her lips as I lower my mouth and kiss her softly. She reaches up to grasp my face, deepening the kiss, but I pull back shaking my head. “You kiss me like you can’t get enough.”

“That’s because I can’t,” she admits as I trail the papaya over her chin and down her neck, loving how the juice glistens on her skin, leaving a slick trail for me to taste.

“Good,” I mutter, my attention focussing on her face as I swirl the papaya over her erect nipples, chasing the juice with my tongue. The sweetness explodes on my tongue as I draw her nipple into my mouth, sucking on her.

“That feels so good,” she whispers as I pull back and drag the piece of fruit lower, dipping it into her belly button before heading to her slick pussy, my tongue lapping at the trail of juice.

“Open your legs for me,” I order, and she gasps as I swipe the ripened fruit gently on either side of her pussy, right up high on the tops of her thighs.

“Now this is a meal fit for the heir to a billion pound fortune,” I mutter, a wicked glint in my eye.

“This is filthy,” she murmurs.

“Yes. Yes, it is,” I reply, before lowering my mouth to the trail of juice, tasting the sweet papaya before licking her glistening seam. “Fuck, that’s good,” I mutter.

“Oh my, ahhhh…” she cries as I repeat the action over and over again, my tongue lapping at the juices the sweet fruit leaves behind, before swiping my tongue through her pussy, and the wetness her body produces from my attention.

Rising upwards, I slide the papaya into her mouth. “Eat. I’m going to feed you until you’re full and you can’t take any more, then I’m going to make you come.”

She opens her mouth willingly, eating the slice of fruit as I reach for a strawberry, taking a small bite before I swirl it over each nipple.

I can’t help but grin at her moans, lowering my mouth to her core, tasting, licking, fucking her pretty cunt with my tongue, all the while using the strawberry to soak her nipples before feeding the pulpy fruit to her. With each slice of fruit, I do the same until all we’re left with is a thick slice of apple, the length and width of my finger. It’s not as soft as the other fruits, and I lift it to my mouth, sucking on it, the tangy sweetness exploding on my tongue.

“I’m going to make you come now, wife,” I say, pinching it between my finger and thumb, and dropping my gaze to her hole that drips so beautifully with her wetness.

She looks up at me wide-eyed as I gently slide the piece of apple into her mouth. She groans, her lips suctioning around the fruit, her skin flushing as I lower my mouth to her clit and suck on it, all the while gently fucking her mouth with the slice of apple.

“Dalton!” she cries, twisting her head to the side, the piece of apple discarded on the countertop as I grab her sticky breast and tease her clit with my tongue. “Please.”

Her cries turn me on so fucking much that I reach between my legs and shove my hand into my swimshorts, fisting my cock, twisting it roughly. The taste of her, the sounds she makes, the beautiful way she trusts me, turns me on so fucking that it isn’t long until I feel my own orgasm building at the base of my spine, my balls drawing tight against my body.

“I’m so close,” she whines, grabbing my head, pressing herself against me, needing more, just like I need more.

I want her so fucking badly. So badly that I could give into my desire and fuck her now, but I don’t. Instead I eat her out like a ravenous man, pushing two fingers inside of her with one firm thrust.

“Then come for me, wife,” I grind out against her.

“Please… Oh, Dalton. Please, please, please!” she cries, as I crook my fingers and stroke that tender, spongy spot deep inside of her.

“Come. Come now!”

And she does, right when I demand her too.

Her internal walls tighten, her back arches as she cries out my name, coming long and hard. The sound is like a shot of pleasure straight to my dick, and I rear upwards, still finger fucking her as I awkwardly push down my swim shorts, and rise up onto the balls of my feet, white, hot strings off cum erupting from my cock as I empty my seed all over her pussy and lower stomach.

“Jesus,” I groan, my whole body fucking trembling, my hips jerking, my cock strangled by my fist as I milk every last drop of cum from my dick. “Look at the mess I’ve made of you.”

Dropping my dick, I swirl my fingers in my cum, sliding it over her clit so it drips between her folds and onto my waiting fingers, then I push it inside of her, loving the slick sounds, and the desperate pants that fall from her lips.

“The way your pussy weeps for me. Fuck, Daisy, I can’t get enough,” I admit, my skin heating, my damn heart swelling in my chest as this feeling of euphoria washes over me. I’ve never, ever, felt this way before. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, strange, frightening. That most of all. Yet despite the fear, I don’t stop. I embrace it.

“Dalton,” she whimpers, pushing up onto shaky arms, her tangled hair falling about her face in a halo as she blinks up at me.

“You’re…” my voice trails off as I fail to find the words to describe how fucking stunning she is, how helpless I feel in the moment. All I can do is pull her towards me, needing her chest to chest. Placing my hands on her hips, I drag her to the edge of the counter. “Wrap your arms and legs around me. I’m going to clean you up.”

Gripping her tight against me, I step out of my swim shorts, kicking them aside, then I lift her into my arms and stride towards the ensuite bathroom in her bedroom. She softens in my hold, her check pressed against my shoulder as I carry her.

I’m still hard, still fucking desperate to sink inside of her, and my dick is teasingly close to her entrance. All it would take is pinning her against the wall and one firm thrust of my hips and I’d be inside of her. It takes every last scrap of self-restraint not to do that. Instead, I step into the shower cubicle and reach for the tap, turning it on. As warm water falls from the showerhead over us both, I gently drop her to her feet.

“Dalton,” she whispers, her hands pressed against my chest as she looks up at me, droplets of water cascading over her upturned face.

Yet she doesn’t continue, captured in the moment as I am, the heat from the shower is nothing compared to the warmth between us. I drop my gaze to her freckles, slowly counting them one by one, needing a moment to centre myself, to calm the racing beat of my heart.

Thirty-eight. She has thirty-eight freckles dusting her nose and cheeks, each one as beautiful as the next. Then, when my heart has finally calmed to a more even rhythm, I lift my gaze to meet hers, only for it to skip a beat at the intense way she looks at me. I see something in her eyes, something that makes my heart stutter then stall, something I want to desperately lean into, to welcome, yet I shake my head.

“Don’t say it,” I whisper, cupping her cheek, brushing my thumb over her bottom lip.

“But I think I’m falling…”

“Please, Daisy. Not yet,” I whisper, catching her mumbled words with my lips, kissing her deeply, overwhelmed by the eddying emotions swirling inside my chest. When I reluctantly pull back, her expression falls, and I see a hint of disappointment in her eyes.

“Let me wash you clean,” I say, grabbing the bottle of shower wash and squeezing some into my hand, needing the distraction from my own tumbling thoughts as the scent of jasmine and coconut lifts into the air.

“Okay,” she whispers, a soft sigh parting her lips as I slide my hands over her body, my touch gentle, my heart pounding, my chest heaving as I battle with myself and the tumultuous feelings that are beginning to overwhelm me. There’s nothing sexual about the way I touch her, it’s more of a comforting feeling, for me, for her, and somehow it’s way more intense.

“Loving someone is also taking care of them,” she had said to me, her words echoing in my mind as I lather up more soap and gently wash her hair. “Sex is wonderful, of course it is, but kindness, care, empathy, tenderness, that’s a huge part of it too.”

She’s right. She’s so fucking right.

The truth of her words hang sodden between us. They rain over my skin, cleansing me, washing away all the past hurts, the loneliness I’ve felt buried deep beneath my arrogance and vanity, my selfishness and greed. The old me, the man I was, is shredded with every water droplet, leaving someone shiny and new, someone achingly vulnerable.

“You’re right,” I murmur.

“What?” she questions.

“Nothing, just thinking out loud,” I reply, tucking those thoughts deep within me, holding them close, keeping them safe until I’m ready to set them free.

Once she’s thoroughly clean, I wash myself as Daisy watches. Her gaze is heated, filled with so much longing that I almost drop to my knees and beg for her forgiveness. There are so many unspoken words between us, but I don’t need to hear her say that she thinks she’s falling in love with me, when I feel it. I feel her tentative love, and it scares me to death. It scares me to death because, God help me, I think I’m falling too.

“Can I get you anything?” I ask half an hour later as I step back into Daisy’s bedroom, dressed in a pair of loose linen shorts and a white t-shirt. She’s lying on the bed, dressed in her cotton pyjamas, her bedside lamp filling the darkened room with a soft glow, a thin sheet pulled up over her body as she looks over at me.

Outside the air trembles with thunder as sheets of rain fall heavily, the sky through her window lit momentarily with lightning.

“I’m fine. I think I might just go to sleep if that’s okay with you?” she replies softly.

“Daisy, I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be. I understand. This is overwhelming for me too. I need to just sit with this for a moment. I need to…” She heaves out a breath, looking so fucking vulnerable that I hate myself for not being honest with her. I should tell her I’m falling too. Why am I so fucking terrified of speaking the truth?

Maybe it’s because I’m still uncertain that what I’m beginning to feel is actually love. Maybe it’s because I’m not certain that what Daisy feels for me is love, but simply a culmination of lust, desire and her desperation for it. I want her to be certain. I need to be certain, and I won’t say those three words until I am. I won’t make love to her until I am.

“Rest. I’m going to sit in the living room for a while, okay?”

“Okay,” she nods.

“See you in the morning?” I add in hesitation.

“Sure,” she replies, then she rolls over onto her side and closes her eyes.

For the next couple of hours, I watch the storm roll across the ocean. The waves churned up by the wind, crashing against the shore in a hypnotic rhythm as the sound blends with the rumble of thunder overhead. Lightning brightens the sky in erratic bursts, illuminating the darkened living room briefly, the only other light coming from the lamp that’s still switched on in Daisy’s room.

As I drag in a shaky breath, the air seems to be suffused with a heavy kind of tension, mirroring the conflict raging within me. I can’t seem to shake the memory of Daisy’s vulnerable expression, etched as it was with hurt and confusion. It makes me question everything. Am I truly falling in love with Daisy or is this just a fleeting infatuation that will fade with time? Even as I think those thoughts, my gut churns, the thought of Daisy ever leaving me causing a sharp pain in my chest as I’m reminded of my own mother walking away and never looking back. I loved her too… I see that now. I see that I had once loved, that I knew how, and my mother’s abandonment turned that love into something bitter and painful until I couldn’t help but run from it, closing myself off from the possibility of ever loving someone despite searching for the feeling every time I fucked a woman.

That’s the truth of it.

“Fuck,” I mutter, swiping a hand through my hair.

Needing some fresh air, I push up from my seat and open the patio doors, the wind whipping through my hair, carrying with it the scent of rain and storm-churned ocean. Just as I’m about to step out onto the deck, a sudden bolt of lightning strikes somewhere close by and the whole area is pitched into darkness, the lights in the neighbouring bungalow suddenly cut out. I glance over my shoulder, noticing the light in Daisy’s room has gone out too. Seconds later I hear her scream out my name.

“Dalton!”

I bolt towards her, knocking into furniture as the fear in her voice propels me forward. With my heart racing in my chest, I burst into her room just as another flash of lightning lights up the space momentarily before pitching it back into darkness once more.

“No, no, no,” she cries, reaching for the bedside lamp, flicking the switch on and off. “It’s so dark.”

“Daisy, I’m here. You’re okay,” I say, climbing onto the bed and reaching for her. She grasps for me, the darkness enveloping us both. “It’s the storm. I think it’s taken the power out.”

“No,” she cries, her fear palpable as she climbs into my arms, curling her body around mine as she presses her chest to my chest as though trying to bury herself beneath my skin.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m here,” I say, rubbing my hand up and down her back as I try to soothe her, to calm her fears, but she continues to tremble, a shuddering sob releasing from her lips.

“I c-can’t go through this again.”

She buries her face against my neck and I can feel the wetness of her tears as she sobs. The sound she makes is heartbroken as she clings to me. It terrifies me, her fear. It makes my throat close over and a tightness forms in my chest.

“Hold on to me,” I say, feeling an overwhelming need to shield her from the demons that haunt her.

“Don’t let me go,” she whimpers.

“I’m not letting you go,” I promise, holding her tighter against my chest. She lets out a shuddering sob, my goddamn heart aching at the sound.

“I’m scared.”

“I know, but I’m here with you. Nothing can hurt you while I’m here. I promise,” I murmur, meaning it, wanting her to know that I will protect her. I will. Whatever it takes.

“I hate this,” she groans, trembling, her voice weak. “I hate that they did this to me.”

“Oh Daisy,” I whisper, pressing a kiss against her hair, wanting to take her fear away more than I’ve wanted to do anything.

“They hurt me so badly, Dalton. They hurt me, and I can’t… I feel so lost sometimes,” she chokes out. “I wish I didn’t remember. I’ve tried so hard to forget. But here in the dark I’m thrown back into that room again, cold, alone, in pain, terrified…”

“Jesus, Daisy.” My words are thick, raw, and I feel the prick of white hot tears in my eyes. I don’t fucking cry. I never cry, and yet here I am feeling the sting, hurting for her, with her.

“Just hold me…” she whispers, her voice so quiet I can barely hear it above the thunder and lightning.

“All night long,” I promise.

She nods, her body shifting with mine as I lay us both down, drawing her into my side, my body lined up with hers, chest to chest, breath mingling, hearts racing. Reaching up I cup her cheek, pressing a tentative kiss against her mouth.

She sobs, clutching hold of me, falling into the kiss. Just like that night she woke from a nightmare, I feel this intense need to replace her fear with something else, with me. And so I kiss her. I kiss her with a profound sense of needing to soothe her, to calm her, to show her that I’m here, that I won’t abandon her like her parents did, that I won’t hurt her like they did.

Our kiss deepens, and it’s raw and beautiful and fucking heart-wrenchingly painful in a way that makes me quake for her. Not because it’s wrong, but because it’s so fucking right. I kiss her until her sobs become whimpers, and her tears stop falling. It’s only then that I pull back, needing to stop, because if I don’t I could so easily slip inside of her, and I made a promise to myself and to her that the next time I did that it would be because I was certain that I loved her.

Instead, I tug her against my chest and hold her. We stay like that, wrapped around each other for what feels like an eternity as the storm continues to howl outside. Gradually, Daisy’s trembling subsides and she lifts her head from my shoulder.

“Thank you,” she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t ever want you to feel afraid,” I reply, cupping her cheek, barely making out the expression on her face as she looks at me with her cheeks stained with tears. “I want you to feel safe with me.”

“I do, Dalton. These past weeks..." Her voice trails off as she heaves in a breath. “These past few weeks have been magical, and I do feel safe with you. I do.”

“Good,” I reply, pressing my lips against her forehead.

“Promise you’ll stay with me tonight.”

“Of course, I’m not going anywhere. You have me, Daisy. You have me,” I promise vehemently, and it’s the closest I’ve ever come to saying I love you.

She leans into me, her body relaxing as I hold on to her. Before I know it, she's fallen asleep in my embrace, her gentle breaths comforting against my skin. But I can't seem to drift off like she does. Instead, I spend the next few hours awake, my thoughts replaying the events of the past few weeks, hell, the past few years. Deep inside I know that Daisy has become an intrinsic part of my life, someone who has woven herself into the very fabric of my being, and ultimately, I can’t see a future without her in it.