CHAPTER 31
Edward
I return to the dining room with the dessert—a Vegan Opera Cake, crafted by someone who isn’t me. My culinary ambitions ended with dinner.
But as I step through the doorway, I nearly drop the bloody thing straight onto the rug.
Because Daisy . . . Daisy is sitting in my chair.
At the head of the table.
Wearing nothing but my doctor’s coat.
My grip tightens around the dessert platter until my knuckles turn white.
The stark fabric, so synonymous with professionalism, is now draped across her bare skin, repurposed into something entirely indecent.
Barely-there lace peeks from beneath the hem, teasing at what little she’s chosen to keep on. And around her neck, hanging with casual audacity, is my stethoscope. Resting right between those full, exquisite breasts, grazing soft, pink nipples.
The coat falls just enough to reveal, but not enough to fully expose her cunt. A blatant tease.
And that smirk. Christ.
It’s the expression of a woman who knows exactly what she’s doing.
“Hello,” she purrs, uncrossing and recrossing her legs, like a queen making herself comfortable. “I heard you called for an emergency home visit.”
“Daisy.” It comes out more like a growl than a word. I set the cake down on the table.
Her gaze meets mine, alight with mischief, and I feel it like a spark catching.
With infuriating slowness, she uncrosses her legs again.
My breath hitches.
The hem of my coat shifts just enough to reveal what lies beneath: a flimsy scrap of black lace that leaves nothing to the imagination.
I let out a hoarse groan. “Are those crotchless ?”
My cock throbs painfully as I feast my eyes on her delicate folds, the lace framing her cunt perfectly.
I try not to stare, try to maintain some semblance of gentlemanly decorum, but it’s a losing battle.
Her soft pink folds glisten invitingly. I want to feel her clench and flutter around me. Need to.
“They are,” she says, all innocence, but the glint in her eyes betrays her. Her fingers toy idly with the stethoscope draped around her neck.
She knows exactly what she’s doing, and worse—she knows exactly what it’s doing to me.
“Do you like them?” she asks, head tilting, voice silky and teasing.
I take a shuddering breath, my cock pressing against the denim of my jeans.
“It would appear,” I grind out, “ that I like them very much. If I’d known you were wearing them all through dinner, I doubt I’d have been able to maintain a conversation.”
My gaze drags downward and settles on the most tantalizing sight of my life.
The way her slick, swollen lips peek through. The way her clit hides under its hood, waiting for my touch.
“Your delicious cunt has been exposed this whole time. Naughty little minx, aren’t you?”
She lifts the stethoscope, dragging the metal over her collarbone and breasts. Her nipples were already erect but harden further.
“You said to get comfortable.” She smirks. “That’s what I’ve done.”
Her other hand rests on her thigh, inches away from where I long to touch her.
The room falls into silence, save for our breathing—hers light and measured, laced with quiet confidence, while mine is heavier, strained.
“Come here,” she says.
In two strides, I’m towering over her, standing between her shamelessly parted thighs, hands rigid at my sides, fists clenching and unclenching.
She tilts her chin up, her gaze locking onto mine. She’s toying with me.
My pulse kicks up, sharp and insistent.
She leans back slightly, her fingers drifting down her stomach in a slow, deliberate path, inching closer to the place I want them most.
“ Fuck. ” I force a breath, willing composure. “Is this how you treat all your patients?”
Her eyes widen and she tilts her head, smirking. “Only the ones who deserve it.”
“Are you going to play with yourself?” I almost growl, my gaze fixed on the slow path of her hand over her stomach.
She reaches for me, fingers curling around the collar of my shirt, tugging me down. Until our faces are inches apart.
“Would you like me to?”
“More than anything.”
I need to be closer. I sink to the floor before her, hands gripping the edge of the chair for support.
“What type of doctor are you?” I ask.
Her lips curve into a smirk.
“A willy doctor,” she declares, her delivery deadpan. “I’m the one keeping Britain’s willies . . . standing tall.” She winks.
I let out a low chuckle, despite my raging hard-on. Only Daisy Wilson could manage to say something so ridiculous and somehow make it the single most arousing thing I’ve ever heard.
“Say please, Edward.” That honeyed tone again. “Don’t forget your gentlemanly manners now.”
She enjoys watching me unravel.
“Oh god, Daisy, please.” My voice is hoarse, every syllable dripping with worship. “Please. I’m begging you. I implore you. Play with that beautiful little cunt. Let me watch you.”
“Well, okay then. Since you asked so politely.”
My breath catches as her hand slips between her thighs, her fingers brushing against her glistening folds.
She lets out a soft sigh, her eyes never leaving mine as she begins to explore herself.
I grip her chair rest.
She dances her fingers over her clit, teasing it lightly at first, sending shivers through her body. Her breath hitches, and she bites her lower lip, her hips shifting slightly as if seeking more contact.
I can’t look away; the sight of her touching herself is intoxicating. My own arousal builds with every movement of her hand.
She dips her fingers lower, movements growing more frantic, and slides her fingers in and out of the slickness that’s pooled at her opening before returning to her clit.
She closes her eyes, savoring the sensation, before opening them again to meet my gaze.
She presses down harder, sinking into that swollen bundle of nerves. Each stroke draws a fresh wave of arousal, her thighs trembling.
I let out a low desperate “Fuuuuck,” my cock pulsing with need at the sight of her.
The wet, rhythmic sound of her fingers working over her clit fills the air, mingling with her soft, breathy moans—each one more desperate than the last. She arches back, cupping a breast with her free hand and plucking at the tight peak of her nipple.
“Do you like watching me?” she asks breathlessly.
“Darling. You’re killing me. I’m going to come in my bloody underwear again.”
Her moans grow louder, her fingers moving faster now. Her hips buck slightly against her hand as she edges closer to climax, and the sounds escaping her lips are too much for me to bear.
I can’t take it. I frantically unbuckle my belt and shove down my jeans and boxers.
Her response is another moan as she finally pushes herself over the edge with a cry of pleasure.
“Daisy,” I groan, “please, I’ll get . . . condom.”
Her head falls back. “I’m . . .” Her breath stutters as she struggles to form the words. “I’m . . . on the pill.”
Oh Christ.
Before she’s even finished shuddering, I seize her hips, dragging her toward me, and thrust deep into her still-pulsing cunt. She gasps—mouth falling open, her entire body jolting as I bury myself to the hilt in her tight heat.
I feel everything. The aftershocks of her climax rippling around my cock, her muscles fluttering as I hold her there.
I don’t move. Can’t.
Not yet.
But then I start, slowly at first, savoring the way she clings to me, so tight and wet.
Each thrust pulls a breathy moan from her lips, her fingers digging into my shoulders, clinging as if I might slip away. But there’s no chance of that. She feels too damn perfect wrapped around me like this.
“ Please .” Her eyes are wide, urging me on. “Harder . . . oh god, please, harder.” Her hands slide down my back, nails biting into my skin.
“Patience, darling,” I murmur, brushing a thumb along her jaw. “Not everything has to be a rush.”
The first time with Daisy I’d been ravenous. Now I’ve got just enough grip on myself to drag this out, to savor every second of her unraveling.
She whimpers, a needy little sound that almost breaks me. “I can’t—I can’t take it.” Her nails bite deeper, her heat tightening around me, so close again she’s shaking.
I keep it slow, sliding my cock in and out.
“Self-control,” I say against her ear, “yields a far greater reward.”
I tilt her chin up, locking my gaze with hers—her eyes glassy with want—as I thrust again, unhurried, letting her feel every inch. She gasps, her lips parting, and I drink in the sight of this dark-haired, hazel-eyed vixen.
Until finally I’ve tortured us both enough.
With a groan that feels torn from my soul, I bury myself deep, filling her as I come undone. If this is my last moment on earth, I’ll go a happy man.