CHAPTER 27
Edward
My hand remains firm against her stomach, holding her in place, sprawled across the kitchen table.
And for a moment, I do nothing but look at her.
Her dark hair fans out across the wood, a wild, tangled halo. Her lips are parted and swollen, her hazel eyes—glazed, unfocused—locked onto mine from beneath heavy lashes.
Her BritShop skirt—that ridiculous, infuriating thing—is bunched up around her waist, the plaid fabric rumpled by what I’ve done to her.
Her chest rises and falls in uneven gasps, and she’s arching toward me in a silent, desperate plea. She’s so gloriously, maddeningly responsive.
I drag my gaze downward, and—Christ.
Her perfect cunt is drenched, the evidence of her pleasure gleaming under the low kitchen light.
Devastation. That’s the only word for the sight of her.
In my lust-heavy haze, I’d give up every damn medical degree just for the chance to taste her again.
I lower my head again, inhale deeply— fuck.
Her scent.
Every muscle in my body locks up.
I am not the kind of man who needs to dominate. I do not require submission to validate my ego. But I am desperate.
And desperation makes men primitive.
Be a gentleman, Edward.
Which, frankly, is getting increasingly difficult when she’s looking down at me like that.
And that slick little cunt? Pulsing with need, begging me to do something about it.
“Wow.” She giggles, voice a little hoarse. “That inhale was . . . intense.”
I close my eyes, forcing air into my lungs, willing the arousal coursing through me to settle.
She has no idea.
“Sorry,” I manage to say through gritted teeth, working to calm myself down so I don’t scare her. I must look like a man possessed.
I’ve just watched Daisy shatter beneath my mouth—watched her come apart with an intensity that’s left me feeling alive again.
I lift her from the table, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head—a quiet, reverent thing. But the way my fingers tighten around her hips? Possession.
I gently right her skirt, smoothing it into place.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, her cheeks still flushed. “Do you still want that tea?”
I let out a slow breath, thick with everything that’s just transpired. “Not particularly. It’s hardly my most pressing concern.”
She giggles.
I lace my fingers through hers. Our eyes lock. “Care to show me your bedroom?”
She gestures down the corridor with a grin, her bottom lip pulling between her teeth. “Are you going to fuck me, uptight Eddie?”
“I’m going to ignore that Eddie reference. And yes, I’m going to fuck you.” My thumb brushes idly across the back of her hand. “But it’s been a while. You’ll need to be patient.”
Her smirk widens. “Don’t worry, it’s just like riding a bike, right?”
I arch a brow.
“Then you ,” I murmur against her ear, “are the most exquisite bike I’ve ever had the pleasure of riding.”
Her sharp intake of breath is gratifying.
I follow her down the hallway, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. The reality of what’s about to happen makes my pulse thunder.
She leads me into her bedroom, and the door clicks shut behind us. The space is so distinctly Daisy—warm, inviting, cluttered in a way that feels effortlessly lived-in. Crystals litter the bedside table, catching the dim light. I don’t believe in any of it, but I know she does.
Before I can take it all in, she turns, palms flat against my chest, guiding me backward until my legs hit the edge of the bed. I lose my balance, falling back onto the mattress with a surprised chuckle. And then—she’s on me, thighs straddling my lap, the heat of her core pressing intimately against me.
“Daisy . . .” I hesitate, looking up at her, my hands resting against her bare thighs. This is unfamiliar ground. “I haven’t been with anyone since Millie. I’m . . . out of practice. Considerably so.”
She goes still, her body hovering just above mine. Her hands settle on my shoulders, anchoring herself as she leans in. “Why are you telling me this?” she asks softly.
I let out a heavy breath, honest to a fault in this moment. “Because I’m worried I won’t last. Not with you. Jesus, Daisy. Just look at you.”
She bites her bottom lip, and for the first time tonight, she looks almost . . . shy. It’s uncharacteristic, and it does something to me.
“Come on,” she murmurs. “You see women prettier than me all the time.”
“It’s not just about how you look. There’s something about you. You carry a spark no one else has.” My thumb grazes the skin of her hip. “You glow , Daisy. You make everything around you feel . . . alive .”
And it’s the truth. It feels disloyal—disrespectful, even—to Millie. But in this moment, I can’t deny it.
Her lips curve into a soft smile. “That’s sweet.”
I lift a brow. “I am capable of it, you know.”
With a teasing grin, she grabs the hem of her top and tugs it over her head, shaking out her glossy brown hair, strands falling messily around her flushed face. Her fingers make quick work of the clasp at her waist, lifting her hips just enough to shove her skirt down, wriggling it past her thighs before flinging it on the floor.
She’s bare before me.
Straddling me.
I let out a guttural sound at the sight of her breasts. The kind of gorgeous, decadent fullness that begs to be worshipped. Touched. Tasted.
“My god,” I rasp.
“You’re quite the groaner tonight, aren’t you?” she teases, “You’re usually far more articulate.”
My hands find her breasts, palming them, rolling her already achingly tight nipples between my fingers. Her breath hitches, her spine arching, pressing herself further into my hands.
“You’re exquisite,” I murmur, my voice hoarse.
An understatement. An insult, really, for the goddess in my lap, but my command of language has evidently deserted me.
I slide my palm between her legs, trailing my fingers along the heat of her. She’s soaked.
With a low moan, she lifts herself, rolling her hips into my hand, riding my fingers with abandon. Her wet cunt clenches around my fingers, and god help me , I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my life.
“Daisy,” I groan. “You’re going to give a man a bloody heart attack.”
She laughs as her fingers move to the buttons of my shirt. But her hands are clumsy, her giggles breaking between frustrated little huffs as the buttons refuse to cooperate.
My lips twitch, watching her struggle. “Need help?”
“I’m good,” she mutters, determined, before she gives up entirely and practically tears the shirt open.
I chuckle, amused—until she shifts, pressing herself closer, and lowers her mouth to my chest.
I’m not laughing anymore.
Every muscle in my body locks tight.
The heat of her mouth traces over my skin, slow and torturous, moving lower. Strands of her hair slip forward, falling over her face and tickling my stomach, a soft contrast to the searing path she’s carving with her lips.
By the time she reaches my waistband, my stomach is heaving with each shallow breath, muscles tensing beneath her touch. My head tilts back against the bed, but my eyes stay locked on her—heavy-lidded, drowning with need.
“Daisy,” I grit out.
She reaches for my zip, and I move aggressively, helping her—yanking off trousers, boxers, anything standing in the way of skin on skin.
I might be out of the dating game, but even I know socks are a definite no.
I’m so fucking hard, it’s almost painful.
I should not want this as much as I do.
Every rational part of my brain is screaming that this is a monumental mistake.
Daisy is Sophia’s best friend. I’ve known her since she was practically a child. She’s significantly younger, at a different stage of life. Her history with Charlie—that painful, messy entanglement— should make her the last woman I’d ever consider touching.
On paper, she is the worst choice.
Yet, I cannot stay away.
“Your body is so . . .” she murmurs, the words catching in her throat before she huffs. “Ugh, I’m so turned on right now.”
An amused hum escapes me.
“Darling,” I murmur, the word slipping from my lips with just enough heat to make her shiver, “you’ve no idea what you do to me.”
Her gaze travels over me.
“Your thighs are thick and sexy,” she says, trailing her hands over the muscles there, tracing every inch of tension.
Her fingers hover dangerously close to my throbbing cock, already slick with precum. The veins thick and pulsing with the demand to be inside her. The swollen tip flushed a deep, needy red, twitching in anticipation.
Every muscle in my body tenses. Waiting. Wanting.
“Jesus, your dick is massive, Eddie,” she murmurs.
I groan, exasperated. “For the love of— don’t call me Eddie.”
Before I can scold her properly, she slides further down the bed until she’s face-level with my cock. Her fingers wrap around my length, giving a firm, deliberate stroke.
A full-body shudder rolls through me, pleasure rippling up my spine, my head tipping back. Like a man who’s never been touched before.
I force my gaze back down, fixated on her, and—Christ.
She takes me fully into her mouth, the wet heat of her lips closing around me, sending a violent shudder through my body. My head tilts back, but I force my eyes to stay on her—on the way her throat works as she swallows me deeper.
Her breasts brush against my thighs, soft and full, her hardened nipples grazing my skin with every movement. Her ass is high in the air, the curve of it on full display.
I can’t fully see her face—only the top of her head, the wild tumble of her hair spilling over my stomach. Maybe it’s for the best. If I could see her expression as she takes me deeper—I think I’d explode on the spot.
She takes me all the way to the back of her throat and . . . fuck . . . oh god.
“ Fuck— ”
I grip the sheets, trying to maintain some semblance of control. Failing spectacularly.
“Daisy,” I manage through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to thrust into her mouth.
Her head bobs up and down, that tiny, beautiful mouth sucking me off with such skill. Reaching the back of her throat with each movement, sending electric waves of sensation through me. The warmth. The pressure.
“Sweetheart,” I groan. “Stop. I want to come inside you. Stop or I’ll come.”
She gazes up, lips stretched around me, and I almost lose it right then.
She finally releases me, her lips swollen from her work.
“Okay.” She gasps as she climbs up my body, straddling me once more. Her heat pressing against me, bare between us. “I need you inside of me too.”
“ Fuck ,” I pant. “We need a bloody condom. Unless you’d like to explain to Sophia why her older brother knocked up her best friend.”
She pulls back just enough to smirk down at me. “You don’t have any?”
I shoot her a pointed look, my breathing still ragged. “I haven’t exactly had need to carry them around for emergencies.”
Her grin widens, and she reaches over to her bedside table. “Lucky for you, I always come prepared.”
Something in my chest tightens.
Her casual preparedness is a reminder of the distance between us. She , with her sensuality, her vibrancy, her natural ease in moments like this. And I . . . with years of restraint, of self-imposed solitude.
For her, this might be just another evening.
But for me . . .
This feels like something I won’t be able to take back.
She pulls out a collection of condoms, examining them with a look of mock analysis.
“This one’s too small for you,” she muses, flicking it aside. “We’ll need the extra-large. From my clinical assessment.”
Despite my raging erection, a chuckle escapes me. “Your scientific approach is noted.”
“Hold on—” she continues, holding up another, barely suppressing her amusement. “I’ve also got a variety pack. Flavors include . . . banana, strawberry, and”—she squints—“‘peach surprise.’”
I groan, dragging a hand down my face. “Daisy, I don’t give a damn what flavor it is. Just put it on. I’m barely holding it together.”
She cocks her head, eyes bright with mischief. “Are you in distress, Doctor?”
“Excruciating distress,” I grit out. “Trying to hold myself together, but having you positioned above me like this is pushing me to my limits.”
She giggles. “You shouldn’t hold yourself together.” She rolls her hips, bare heat pressing against the length of me. “That’s the whole point.”
She reaches for the condom, ripping the packet open with her teeth, and I’m transfixed, watching as she rolls it down my length.
Our eyes lock as she slowly sinks down, inch by inch, until I’m fully buried inside her.
I force myself to stay still, to let her adjust to my size. My jaw clenches as heat licks through my veins, as she envelops me in scorching velvet softness.
I choke out a moan as she begins to move on top of me, taking me deeper, her walls clenching around me as she adjusts.
“This—” I manage, staring up at her. “This beautiful cunt of yours feels divine.”
A husky chuckle spills from her. “You saying cunt in that posh accent is the hottest thing ever,” she pants out between breaths, riding me like a goddess. “I thought you’d call it something more posh . . . or medical. It sounds so dirty and vulgar.”
Despite the pleasure consuming me, I let out a breathless laugh.
“Daisy, bloody hell , slow down, would you?” I groan, my fingers gripping her hips. “You’re killing me.”
She doesn’t listen.
Of course she doesn’t listen.
I grab her hips, steadying her, trying to stem the reckless pace. The sensation of her is too much—I’m one breath away from blowing my load.
I feel every quiver of her muscles gripping my cock, and I swear under my breath.
Her response? She grinds down harder.
The little menace.
“Tell me,” I say, voice guttural, “how much you love my cock in you.”
It’s ironic how men are reduced to primitive creatures in moments of pleasure.
She’s a needy little thing, clamping down on me . . . moaning as my cock hits her walls.
“Love your thick, hard cock,” she whimpers, her nails dragging down my chest. “Love it so much.”
“Cunt,” I mutter, half delirious, drunk on the pleasure, “ is a beautiful word, one deserving of . . . fuck —god, that feels fucking amazing —reverence and adoration.” I thrust up into her, hard. She moans, her head tipping back. “It’s the source of all life, nature’s perfect creation. A thing to be worshipped .”
“You’re quite the poet, Dr. Eddie,” she manages. Her perfect tits bounce with each rise and fall. The sight of her—wild and chaotic—makes my grip tighten on her waist. Sends waves of pleasure rolling through me. I feel everything—the silken drag of her tight, greedy heat, the fluttering squeeze as she clenches around me, the obscene suction each time she lifts before dropping back down.
“Do you hear that, darling?” I breathe against her as the slapping sound of our bodies joining intensifies. “Your cunt is so fucking wet for me.”
“Fuck, Edward, I’m coming.” She gasps.
I buck my hips up to meet hers, thrusting into her as hard as I can. “Give me everything, darling.”
She arches her back and digs her nails into my shoulders as her body shudders in pleasure with the orgasm ripping through her. Her cunt spasms around my cock, dragging me with her, milking me for everything I have.
“Christ—”
My balls tighten, my muscles coil, and then—
A guttural roar rips from my throat as pleasure detonates through me, my cock jerking violently as I spill into her in hot, shuddering pulses.