Chapter 35
DAISY
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
His kiss burns. It’s potent, life-altering. It has the ability to rage through my sadness and turn it to ash. I’m helpless against it, my body leaning into his, our connection snapping to life as I kiss him back.
Tears pour from my eyes, tipping over my lashes in scolding rivers. I can taste the salt of them as we kiss, and it reminds me of the turquoise ocean on our honeymoon, and the love that blossomed within me a thousand miles away from the constraints of his father’s demands. There we had been free to explore our connection, sink into the blissfulness of each other, unravel the past and accept it for what it was. But real life slapped us both in the face, tainting that time with something neither of us had bargained for.
“Daisy, fuck. Daisy, I–” Dalton rattles on, grasping my face and leaning back slightly as he stares at me, his gaze harrowed. “Fuck, I thought I’d lost you.”
“I’m sorry. I was so cruel just now,” I whisper, reaching up and stroking my fingers against his stubbled cheek.
“Don’t be sorry, not for anything, you hear me, Daisy?” he demands, searching my face. “You were scared, and I didn’t do enough to reassure you. I’m sorry, I’m still learning here.”
“It wasn’t just you, Dalton. It was me too. I pushed you away. I’m so sorry for that, for everything.” My voice trails off as I drag in a quivering breath and he hauls me closer, his hand running up and down my back, comforting me.
“Dalton, can I ask you something?” I eventually ask.
“Of course,” he says, leaning back and brushing his lips tenderly against mine. “Anything.”
“Do you… Do you love me?” There, I said it.
“Do I love you?” he repeats, shaking his head as though in disbelief. “You really need to ask me that?”
“I–”
But my response is cut off as he slams his lips against mine and kisses me roughly, with more emotion, with a force that comes from somewhere deep within.
I feel it… his love.
I feel it in this kiss, it’s undeniable.
My chest heaves at the desperate kind of aching I’ve felt this past few months, the fearful kind of wanting, and now at the unending sense of rightness, of belonging. Every doubt, every fear, every insecurity melts away in his embrace. The world narrows to just the two of us, lost in each other, suspended in time as we kiss and kiss and kiss.
When we finally break apart, our breaths mingling, cheeks flushed, mouths parted on soft exhales, he holds my gaze with a fierceness that steals my breath.
“Fuck, Daisy, don’t you know that I already do? I love you,” he says, pressing a kiss against my cheek. “I love you,” he repeats, kissing the tip of my nose. “I love you,” he murmurs against my mouth once more.
“I love you too.” My voice quakes, a breath releasing from my lips in a soft puff of relief.
“I love everything about you, Daisy, my beautiful wife. My perfect fucking flower,” he insists, pressing another kiss against my lips and taking my breath away with his confession before pulling back and laughing softly. “Do you know how incredible it feels to say those words, Daisy, to feel that love?”
“I have an idea,” I reply, smiling through my tears.
“God, I feel like I could accomplish anything knowing that you love me, that I love you.”
“Even now?” I ask.
“Even more so now,” he adds vehemently.
My heart soars, thumping back to life. This past month it’s felt bruised, and I’ve tried my best to keep it safe, to keep it from feeling much of anything really. Dalton was right, I’d allowed myself to wallow in sadness because I couldn’t let it feel hope. Hope that what I sensed from him on our honeymoon was love. Hope that he could love me despite the fact I may never be able to carry his child. Until I heard those words right now, I’d still been uncertain, afraid that he was with me out of obligation.
“I’ve felt helpless, Daisy, not knowing what to do, knowing that my fucking father has this damn hold over us. I’ve been angry at myself for not doing more to distance myself from my father earlier, of finding my own way in life instead of sitting back and acting the damn playboy, living off his money. I’m ashamed of that man, Daisy,” I admit.
“That’s in the past now. I believe in you, Dalton. You’ll find your way, we both will. If Sterling truly is able to help us, we can start again, can’t we? We can live our life the way we want to,” I say, faltering a little at the thought of what’s to come. It won’t be easy, I know that.
“What is it?” he asks, sensing the change in me, the lingering fear.
“Dalton, your father…”
“Listen to me, Daisy. Let me make it perfectly plain. I don’t care about the contract. I don’t care about my father or what he wants. I only care about you, about us. No matter what happens it will only ever be about us.”
I nod. “I do. I hear you…” I whisper, smiling through my tears, feeling better than I have in weeks.
“Good,” he replies, his eyes flaring with heat.
“So what now?” I ask.
“Honestly, Daisy, I just want to be with you. I want to lay down next to you and kiss you all night long. I want to hold you in sleep, and wake up with you cradled safely in my arms, and then tomorrow we’re going to face my father together. We’re going to start over, we’re going to begin the rest of our lives. I’ll get a job, any fucking job, and I will work from the ground up. I’ll make you proud.”
“I’m already proud of you Dalton, and I need you too,” I add with a whisper.
As we enter my bedroom a few minutes later, Dalton gently shuts the door behind him, then taking my hand he leads me to the end of the bed. Slowly he begins to undress me, removing every item of clothing until all I have left on is my underwear. His fingertips gently, reverently graze over my skin, tracing lines over my clavicle, down my arms, beneath my rib cage, across my stomach. Gently he caresses me, and I reach up onto my toes, kissing him.
“Lie down on the bed, Daisy,” he says against my lips, his voice low, hoarse, as he begins to undress too.
Climbing onto the mattress, I lay down on the centre of the bed, propping my head up on the pillows as I watch him strip down to his boxers, drinking in every inch of his strong, masculine body. The dark tattoos that I’ve traced with my fingers, and kissed with hungry lips seem to twirl and dance as he inhales deep, steadying breaths.
“Spread your legs, Daisy,” he commands roughly, his gaze heated, hungry, full of so much love.
“Like this?” I ask, sliding my legs apart.
“Just like that,” he rasps out and with a gentle dip of his head, he crawls towards me, his eyes never leaving mine. When his knees press against my inner thighs, he drops back onto his haunches, his hands cupping my knees, his thumbs gently massaging circles against my skin.
My breath hitches, the warmth of his hands, and the softness of his touch making me melt. With slow, deliberate movements, his palms slide higher, his fingers tracing gentle circles over my inner thighs. Then, ever so gently, when he reaches the apex of my thighs, he presses the pad of his thumb against my clit through the lace of my underwear.
“Dalton,” I gasp, feeling my body come to life beneath his touch.
“Too much?”
“Not enough. Don’t stop.”
“I’ve got you, my love,” he replies.
My love.
As he continues to stroke me, softly caressing my clit over the material of my knickers, the slight friction only adds to the intensity, and I feel myself becoming wetter with every swirl of his thumb. My hips rock, my body yearning for him as much as my heart swells from his sweet words, from his love.
He doesn’t move my knickers aside. He simply rubs me, drawing out the most delicious pleasure, until I’m whimpering and moaning. My fingers grip the duvet cover, holding on as my back arches and this coiled tightness begins to build deep inside.
“Dalton, please,” I whimper, my voice trembling as the pleasure intensifies.
Sliding his hands beneath the elastic of my knickers, he pulls them down over my hips as I lift my arse and raise my legs so he can pull them free. Dropping them onto the bed beside me, he adjusts his body between my legs, then lowers his mouth to my pussy. The feeling of his warm breath against my wet folds makes me shudder, and when his tongue darts out and he licks me, I can’t help but moan his name.
With each swipe of his tongue, I grow more and more aroused, my fingers tangling with his hair as he eats me out. He’s not hurried, he takes it slow, licking gently, over and over again until all I can do is succumb to him, to this pleasure, to him loving me. Gently he sucks on my clit, the tip of his tongue grazing the hardened nub, and I arch my back feeling that beautiful, white-hot heat swarming in my lower belly.
“I’ve missed this. I’ve missed us together like this,” he murmurs against my skin, his voice muffled yet raw.
“I’ve missed this too,” I reply, gasping as he presses the flat of his tongue against my slit and licks me in one firm stroke.
“Fuck, your pussy is so wet for me…”
He licks me again.
“You taste so fucking good…”
He circles my clit with his tongue, over and over and over until my mouth drops open and starlight glitters behind my closed eyes.
“Dalton,” I whimper, needing more, wanting it all.
Coasting his hand over my stomach and between my thighs, he slides a finger inside of me, gently, slowly, with utmost care. My pussy tightens around it, my internal muscles squeezing as I moan..
“Fuck, yes… You like that, huh?” he rumbles, flicking his tongue fast across my clit, pumping me gently with his finger..
“Yes. So much. Oh… Oh… Ahh… Dalton, please,” I cry, my words almost unintelligible, the wet, slippery noises only turning me on more.
“I’ve got you,” he mutters, alternating between sucking and licking my clit to running his tongue between my folds, keeping up the steady rhythm with his finger.
My legs begin to tremble, overcome with the sensation as he worships me, and then, as he twists his hand between my legs, and crooks his finger, pressing against that spot deep inside, he sends me over the edge.
“Dalton!” I cry, my entire body convulsing as an orgasm barrels out of nowhere. My toes curl, my fingers tighten in his hair as I come, and in that moment of pure bliss all the broken parts of me begin to stitch back together. All the unhappiness turns into joy, into this huge, beaming warmth that ripples outwards from my core, settling into every inch of my body, my heart, my soul.
As the pleasure subsides, my muscles turn liquid and I sink into the mattress, breathless, spent. I look at Dalton as he pushes up on his hands, a smile quirking up his lips, his mouth and chin glistening with my arousal.
“Better?” he murmurs against my skin, gliding his lips higher before pressing a kiss ever so gently against the tiny pink scars left behind from my surgery.
“Much,” I reply, stroking his hair.
“Do they hurt?” he asks me.
“No,” I reply.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, resting his cheek gently against my stomach. “I’m so sorry for what you’ve lost.”
“What we’ve both lost,” I whisper, stroking his hair as he nuzzles against my stomach, pressing hot kisses against my skin.
“I wish I could make everything better,” he says, lifting up slightly, his elbows pressing into the mattress as his warm hands rest against my stomach as though he’s trying to heal me with his touch.
“You can,” I say, cupping his cheek, running the pad of my thumb over his bottom lip.
“How?”
“By loving me. By making love to me,” I say.
“Isn’t it too soon?” he asks, the tip of his tongue tentatively licking my thumb.
“It’s been a month since my operation, Dalton. I’m okay. You won’t hurt me. For now, just be gentle.”
“I can be gentle,” he replies, kissing my stomach. “But if it hurts, you tell me, and I’ll stop.”
“I will,” I agree as he pushes upright.
Kneeling between my legs, he edges his boxers over his erection, pushing them down his thighs before removing them. I reach between my legs, coating my fingers in my wetness, then smother the crown of his cock, loving how soft his skin is, how hard he is for me, how he groans.
“Daisy,” he murmurs, his hips thrusting into my palm as I gently grip him.
“I’m aching for you, Dalton. Please just make love to me,” I beg as our gazes clash, this rush of love blooming inside of me. I imagine it growing with every passing second, spreading out to every single part of my body, seeping from my skin, feathering outwards and grazing against him until we’re both encased in this blissful bubble of love.
“Always. There will never be anyone else for me, only you, always you. I will make love to you for the rest of my life. I’m so fucking lucky to have you. Why did I waste all those years?” he asks, his voice cracking as I release him and he lays his body over mine, his cock sliding against my slit.
“None of that matters now, husband,” I reply, smiling softly up at him.
“Fuck, I’ve missed you calling me that,” he says, and I pull him towards me so I can kiss him tenderly, impressing everything that I feel inside against his lips.
Our tongues tease and explore, and as we kiss he rubs his length up and down my seam until I’m panting for him, my clit throbbing, needing to be filled.
“Ready?” he murmurs, searching my gaze for any uncertainty, his hair flopping forward, tickling my brow, the deep blue of his irises scolding my skin.
“Yes, Dalton. Make love to me,” I whisper as he reaches between us, grasping his cock and guiding it to my opening.
Slowly he slips an inch inside of me, and I widen my legs, pushing up against him, urging him deeper.
“You feel… Fuck, it’s bliss, Daisy. You’re all that I didn’t know I needed. You’re mine,” he adds as our breaths mingle and his eyelids stutter shut, a moan releasing from his lips.
“Deeper, Dalton,” I urge against his lips, stroking my hands down his spine, palming his arse.
Inch by delicious inch he sinks into me, stretching me wide, fitting me perfectly until he’s seated to the hilt.
“My love,” he groans, holding still, my nipples gently chafing against the lace of my bra as our chests meet.
Then with slow, deliberate movements he begins to move his hips, pulling out only a little, before sinking back inside of me once again, his gaze never leaving mine as our bodies move together, rocking into each other. I can feel the love and tenderness he has for me in every gentle thrust, every gasping breath, every delicate kiss, and soft caress.
Everything falls away, until there’s just us.
There is no pain.
There is no fear or anguish.
There is no heartache. Just love.
“This is what it feels like to be loved,” I tell him. “Right here and now, us joined together. This.”
“Yes,” he croons, rocking into me. “I feel it.”
Every stroke is filled with gentle passion, every brush of his lips against mine a tender gesture of his love, and as the minutes pass I’m enveloped in him, in the beauty of us. All the hurt I’ve felt these past few weeks fades away.
We don’t rush to come, instead we move together slowly, strengthening the connection between us, stitching together the wounds these past few weeks have inflicted until, eventually, I feel my orgasm building once more, my inner walls clenching around his cock.
“Dalton,” I gasp, my fingers digging into his arse, urging him on as he continues to slide into me with a perfect, agonising rhythm.
“Come for me, wife,” he breathes, his lips feathering across my jaw, his expression set, determined. “Let me feel you shatter around me. Give yourself to me as I give myself to you, wholeheartedly, until death do us part.”
“I already have,” I reply and our words of devotion are like a match to gasoline, igniting a spark within me that quickly blazes into an inferno. My eyes roll back in my head as my orgasm crashes over me, my body convulsing around him, every muscle tensing and relaxing in waves of pleasure.
Dalton's body shudders against mine as he releases shortly afterwards, his cock pulsing, coating my insides with his cum. “Daisy, you’re my everything. You’re my home, my sanctuary, my sweetest joy,” he says, palming my face.
“And you’re my forever, Dalton. Nothing and no one can take that away,” I whisper, repeating what I’d said to him on our honeymoon
“Nothing and no one,” he agrees.