Chapter 4 Daisy - One time thing. Never gonna happen again. #2
I grab a fistful of Gus’s T-shirt and yank him in the direction of the laundry room just off the kitchen. Despite the fact that it would probably take two and a half of me to equal one of him, he follows without objection.
“Oh, so now? We’re doing this now?” he sounds eager as he unbuckles his belt behind me.
I slam the door shut. I don’t bother looking back as I hike my denim shorts down my legs and kick them aside. “I assume you have and know how a condom works?”
The sound of a wrapper tearing answers my question, but that doesn’t stop Gus from filling this small laundry room with his irritating voice. “I’m gonna fuck the attitude right out of you, Daisy. Mark my goddamn words.”
“I’d love to see you try,” I quip.
Gus’s palm smoothes over the curve of my ass. “How do you wanna do this, darling? Are you true to your name, soft and sweet? A delicate little—”
I twist my neck. “Call me a flower right now, and I’ll bite your dick off.”
“Fuck, that gets me goin’, Daze.” His voice is rough. It almost knocks me off kilter.
“I like it hard,” I inform him with no shame. “I don’t want you to be gentle. And I’d preferably like to at least attempt to finish before, oh I don’t know, the party’s over.”
“I can do that.”
I feel the head of his cock line with my entrance, and I chastise myself knowing I’m already wet.
Have been for a little bit now. For some reason Gus’s attempts to rile me up are working in more ways than one today, and it’s pissing me off that I don’t understand why.
There has never been a time where I don’t need copious amounts of foreplay.
All I know is that I need this so badly right now.
“Daze?” His gentle tone startles me. It throws me off so much that I whip my head over my shoulder to see his eyes already boring into my own.
I make it a point to not look down. I see his shoulder moving in a way that tells me he’s fisting himself, and I just know that if I was faced with the true size of Gus’s cock at this moment, I’d probably back out of this mad idea.
And I’m too desperate to change my mind now.
“What?”
“You’re sure about this?” he asks.
I blow my bangs out of my face and let out a breathy laugh before turning back around. “Yes, Gus. Against all of my better judgments, I’m more than sure I want you to fuck me. Now prefer—”
He buries himself deep inside me without further question, and though he’s gripping my hips in a way that should probably hurt more than it’s adding to the fire in my belly, I still rock into the washing machine I’ve braced myself on.
I’m full, so full. Too full. “Fuck,” I breathe while trying to adjust to the feeling.
I feel Gus’s chest cover my back through the shirts that neither of us bothered to even take off and his lips near my ear. “You feel like fucking heaven. And I can’t understand it, because you’ve always been the devil.”
Without my prompting, I feel my muscles squeeze around him, and he shudders out a hot breath that journeys down my neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
Finally and torturously, Gus pulls his length almost completely out, until only the tip is left inside me. And then he pistons his cock back in with little to no remorse. His thick fingers dig into my skin, and I find myself jutting an arm back to capture the top of his hand with mine.
“God, this is—”
“It’s August,” he interrupts.
I huff.
The hand that was under mine slips out to grip my jaw with the perfect amount of pressure. He turns my head slightly so I have to look at him. “When I have my cock deeper than any fuckboy has been inside you, it’s August. I wanna hear it, Daisy.”
Now is a good time to admit I’ve severely underestimated this little arrangement and oversold my ability to keep my shit together.
When Gus releases his fingers from my jaw, I throw my head back with a moan.
The ends of my hair tickle my lower back as my shirt rides up with every thrust. I swear, every single point of physical contact is lighting me on fire. But I need more.
“G—August,” I pant. I muster up all of the attitude I usually have reserved for the man plowing into me, mentally brushing aside the lust-filled fog he’s put me in. “Harder.”
He slows his pace, and I hear myself whimper before I can think far enough ahead to stop myself. “C’mon, Daisy darling. I know you have more words than that. What’s the one I’m looking for?”
His fingers graze my spine through my shirt, from the bottom of my neck, all the way down to my ass.
I jolt when his palm slaps my right cheek.
When Gus smooths the sting, I try to rock back into him.
But the one hand he still has dug into my hip keeps me perfectly in place.
I don’t budge. “Nuh-uh, darling. You want harder? Lemme hear the pretty—”
“Please,” I beg. “Please fuck me, August. You’re insufferable.”
“Oh, yeah. You sound like you’re suffering, alright.
” He drives into me again and my pussy is more than thankful he didn’t lean into my goading.
The machine under me moves an inch, but I don’t think Gus even notices.
“Fuck, I feel like I’m drowning in you, Daze.
You always soaked like this, or is it just for me? ”
His words sound like he’s falling apart, but the way he’s fucking me with just the right pace and pressure, he doesn’t let his control slip for a second. I attempt to respond with some witty retort, but all that leaves my mouth are moans of a pleasure I haven’t felt in…
Well, I don’t know if I’ve ever felt something this good. But that’s not something I’m going to admit to August fucking Burton, no matter how talented he and that massive cock of his are.
“Who knew all I had to do to shut you up was fill you up, huh?” he teases me.
“Fuck you,” I spit.
“No, Daisy darling, I’m fucking you.”
His voice drops even lower, and it triggers something deep inside me.
“I wanna feel you come around my cock, Daze. Give it to me.” His arm wraps around my waist, and two of his fingers find my clit.
He pinches, and whatever was triggered inside me detonates.
I scream, and I hope with everything in me that no one outside this laundry room hears.
“Fucking…perfect,” Gus grunts out until his orgasm catches up to the tail end of mine.
A minute passes by—maybe two—where all I hear are the sounds of our labored breathing and bits and pieces of conversation flowing in the backyard, only feet from where we’ve committed what feels like the ultimate crime.
What the hell did we just do?
I lift my head from the hanging position it was in while I was catching my breath and reeling about the events of the past twenty or so minutes. “Get the hell off me, Burton.”
“Way ahead of you,” Gus answers, pulling out. I don’t move, still bent over Red’s washing machine. She can never know this happened. No one can.
I turn to see Gus discarding the condom in the small waste basket next to the door, the door I notice we didn’t even bother locking. What kind of stupid spell just came over us?
“You can’t throw a used condom away in the open like that. You don’t think Red is going to wonder how that got there?”
Gus is already busy adjusting his jeans and weaving his belt back on when he looks up at me with a shrug. “Wouldn’t she just assume it’s Miller’s? You think they don’t use this laundry room the same way we just did?”
“Red and Miller aren’t using condoms, Gus.” I hike my shorts over my hips and start buttoning up the front. I walk over to the trash and tie up the plastic bag that was in it to toss before anyone notices.
The way his face contorts into a look of disgust causes me to snort, and I throw my hand over my mouth just a little too late.
“Why the hell wouldn’t they?” He sounds scandalized.
“Some people are in the business of making babies. Remember why we’re here today?” I laugh, reminding him of the baby shower we’re supposed to be taking part in outside.
He shakes his head. “Gross.”
“You don’t want kids?” I don’t remember the last time I asked Gus anything with any real care for the answer. But for some reason, this time I do.
His response is quick. “Uh, no. Not in the cards for me.”
I guess I’m not shocked. He’s never really been a family guy.
But the way he loves Penelope and the way he just worded that makes me pause enough to wonder if he really doesn’t want kids.
Or if he thinks he can’t. Or rather, he shouldn’t.
It’s a feeling I know all too well. But it’s also not something I’m trying to hash out right here, right now. Especially not with August.
Instead, I go for the more expected response, the one that will take us right back to where and who we’re supposed to be to each other. “For the best.”
He rolls his eyes while I tuck the front of my shirt into my shorts and attempt to fluff my hair in the little mirror on the wall in a way that doesn’t say freshly fucked by Gus Burton.
“You smell like stale beer,” I say when I catch Gus looking at my reflection.
“And you look like you just got railed.”
“Get out,” I snap. But he’s unfortunately right.
“This was, uh—” he starts.
“No.” I throw my hand in his face. “We’re not doing this. We’re not talking about it. This was a lapse in rational thought and won’t ever be happening again.”
I swear I see disappointment flash across Gus’s face, but he makes no moves to object. Instead, he wordlessly grabs the plastic bag and nods once after looking me up and down in a way that feels more personal than the sex we just shared before leaving me standing here alone.