Chapter 23 – Daisy
M ouths are for speaking… and tasting.
The bartender tried but this imposter of a Jingle Jam Mudslide isn’t cutting it. So, when Liam Culver asks what it tastes like, I’m fine with passing it over. “Too much chocolate,” he declares in that completely assured manner of handsome young men with a shit ton of money.
“I was going to say too much booze.”
The contradiction is barely out of my mouth when a shadow falls over me, my husband who is absolutely seething for some reason.
“I want a taste,” he growls and… holy hell.
With a puzzled look, Liam starts to pass the drink to him but I don’t think that’s what Grant meant. My nipples, my pussy and every last pleasure receptor in my body is certain that is not what Grant meant. Even Tabitha recognizes it with the way she quickly tugs her brother-in-law away with the spiked milkshake still in his hand.
My heart speeds up as he takes me by the hand, dominantly pulling me along until we’re a few feet away from the others. We’re still very much in the heart of the party though. People are looking at us, not just the group we were standing with either. Regardless of that, I’ve forgotten how to breathe as he stares deep into my soul. “I was never very good at sharing. I won’t start now by sharing you.”
Confused (but so freaking horny), I nod. “You won’t share me.”
“I want a taste. Right here. Where everyone will see and know that you… are… mine.”
My pulse thunders insistently between my ear drums and my thighs. His large, warm hands are cradling my face. I study his firm lips, eager to get acquainted with them. It’s impossible to summon a question or an argument in the face of his unflinching possessiveness.
“If you don’t want my kiss, speak now, Daisy.”
Weak in the knees and thirsty for his kiss, I don’t deny him. I tilt my head back in invitation and he does not hesitate. With a low groan, he dives in, claiming me with his mouth and caging my body in his arms like he’s intent on absorbing my very essence.
Such a hot, needy kiss and an answering moan of delight bubbles up inside of me. My hands slip up the front of his tuxedo jacket and along the hard planes of his chest and stubbed jaw before settling in his thick, soft hair. His tongue wrestles with and subdues mine, my husband having his taste and marking me both.
He feels like a furnace pressed against me. His body is all muscle and sinew beneath his posh clothes. I should know. I’ve not forgotten the running shorts. I’ve not forgotten his office or that night in the study at home or when I called him at his penthouse either. But, this wife wants more than teasing tonight.
One hand shifts to hold the back of my neck, guiding me and taking his time with exploratory licks and nips while the other glides down my dress, stroking the exposed skin of my back and raising goosebumps in its wake until it settles on my ass and squeezes. “Mmmph,” I whimper against his lips, a feeble protest over the public display, but he doesn’t stop holding me, kissing me, thrilling me with all the ways a man’s kiss can make the world melt.
My panties are damp and my poor tender mound from the waxing earlier is throbbing painfully being held so tightly but I want the friction. I want to know a different sort of possession by my husband.
My limbs grow heavy, greedily demanding more when he pulls back with swollen lips and wild, dark eyes full of reckless passion. “The charity ball will go on, with or without us, don’t you think?”
He chuckles darkly when I nod like a bobble headed doll and he leads me past our astonished onlookers. Tabitha gives me an enthusiastic thumbs-up and Kiara wolf whistles until her brother barks her name. Flushing to the roots of my hair, I still manage to grin giddily back at them.
But, two other women I vaguely recognize from Golden Gate are staring blatantly at me and whispering behind their hands.
He didn’t do that for me. It was a show for all of them , the hateful little voice inside me whispers.
I choose to ignore that voice because I wanted that kiss. He doesn’t have to love me. I know I must not fall in love with him. But, if we’re bound to each other for a year, I mean to live it to the fullest. Moving on after Grant will be a problem for another day.
∞∞∞
Anders’ concern when he pulls around to collect us has me regretting my earlier discomfort around him. “Is everything alright, sir? Are you feeling unwell, Daisy?”
“My wife is fine. Drive us home.”
“Will Mrs. Barclay remain in town again or-”
“To the estate!” Grant barks. Sheesh, did kissing me piss him off or something?
I shoot the driver a quick smile to express that I’m okay. Grant snaps the door closed so quickly he nearly smashes Anders’ hand with it. “That was rude!”
He presses the button to raise the divider between us and the driver without a hint of remorse. “He is too familiar with you.”
He’s right, I realize. Anders has been familiar in an odd way since that first cheeky wink the day we met. Or maybe I’m being unfair. I’m the one who told him to call me Daisy and perhaps that’s just how he is with everyone who wasn’t born with a silver spoon up their butt.
“I try to be friendly unlike someone seated beside me.”
“I’m not paying him to be friendly with you .”
“I’ve probably spent more time talking to him than you.”
“You’re probably right,” he admits, casually undoing his bowtie. I gasp in shock the next second as Grant lunges across the seat, pulling me close. “Guess who fucking despises that fact, Daisy.”
Excitement courses through my blood knowing his is still running hot in all the right ways. “If you despise it, maybe you should use your mouth around me more often.” I don’t mean talking and he knows it.
But, whereas I expected another kiss, Grant has something else in mind. “That’s an excellent idea,” he says, reaching for something from the wet bar.
“What are you…”
“Is your plucked and preened bikini area still giving you trouble, Goldilocks?” he asks with a devilish grin. Nodding helplessly, I watch as he selects a piece of ice. “That’s a shame.”
Placing it in his mouth, he rolls it obscenely with his tongue, a teasing promise. Oh God . He continues sucking on the ice while gathering the skirt of my gown in his hands, spreading it apart where the slit runs up to mid-thigh. “Grant…”
“If you don’t want this, speak now. But, I must tell you that I am dying for another taste of my wife.”
Shivering with feverish need, I squeak out the words, “I want it.”
One fleeting smirk followed by one furious yank, the beautiful dress splits all the way to the start of the bodice. “It was very expensive,” I ramble while shuddering with anticipation as my heart is beating quick-quick behind my ribcage.
“I know. I paid for it. But, you can have as many new dresses as you want to replace it, my delectable little wife.” He chuckles as his eyes drop down to my lap. “Such pretty lacy panties, my sweet Daisy who’s in need of a different variety of plucking.”
Blushing from the tips of my ears to my heaving chest, I can only watch in fascination as he places his strong hands on my thighs, slowly trailing up and up. My flesh burns with yearning and my legs quiver from his touch. My whole body coils in readiness. The orgasm over the phone was terrific but I have longed for his hands on me and I’m finally getting that.
He tugs aside my scrap of lace, exposing me completely. The skin is still slightly red from the waxing around my small, blonde landing strip. “Lie down,” he commands and I do. He tears his tuxedo jacket away in an instant and hovers over me, sniffing my neck, my chest, my belly. “Peaches…” He sniffs his way further south. “And, one sweet pussy.”
He lowers his mouth to my bare skin. A moment too late, I remember the ice. “GRANT!” I squeal as his cold lips close over me.
His eyes flick up to meet mine, wickedness dancing in those chocolate depths. “I don’t give a flying fuck if he hears us but I’ll let you decide about that.”
With a mortified glance at the divider, my mouth snaps shut.
It promptly falls open again with a gasped moan when his icy tongue slides across my tender skin, soothing it and coaxing fire from every nerve ending down there.
It’s a slow seduction, a playful tease. He won’t go where I want him to go. He simply licks around that bit of hair and along the creases of my thighs, working me up, such sweet torment. My past sexual experiences were limited to my art school days and have been non-existent since I’ve not had a reliable roof over my head. And, no man from my past has ever spent time and effort focusing on my pleasure.
Every time his mouth starts to warm up, he reaches for another piece of ice. Whimpering and squirming, I wait with bated breath for him to torture me some more. It’s absolutely divine.
And, just when my patience is ready to snap, his lips close over my clit and he starts to suck. “Ohhhh…”
I try to close my legs against the onslaught and intensity of the sensation but he won’t let me. “You taste like the finest champagne, like the sweetest ambrosia. I beg you not to deny your husband when he needs your nectar like he needs air.” My knees fall further apart and those butterflies in my belly spread their wings in triumph again.
Adjusting his position, he places one of my high-heeled ankles on the back of the seat and the other one over his shoulder. “Like that, my tasty treat,” he mumbles. Giggling, I lace my fingers through his hair.
But, when he resumes licking me, lapping up every drop of my arousal, I grip his hair mercilessly as the last piece of ice melts over my clit. His mouth goes from frozen to a blaze once more and it’s hard to ignore the puddle forming under my ass. “Grant… the leather might be damaged.”
“To hell with the car’s seat. You’re going to fucking come for me, Daisy.”
Spreading me wider, his long, hot finger slides through my swollen sex, spreading my arousal over it until he pushes inside. My back arches as he fingers me deep and I stifle a cry. He flutters his tongue over my clit and a second finger enters me. The fullness is oh-so-good but I imagine his cock would feel even better. He pumps his fingers in time with the movements of his tongue and lips. The beautiful darkness starts to claim me. I’m going to come. “Grant…”
“Yes,” he murmurs before repeating the move, over and over, increasing his pace and the friction each time. He does not stop.
My ankle slips from its place on the backseat and there’s a momentary ripping noise. But, my hips are busy meeting the thrusts of his fingers, shaking and rolling, desperate for more. My panted breaths grow raspy as time and space rush past me like the traffic outside this car. That coiling sensation reaches its maximum tension and the release overtakes me, blinding lights in the dark, a rapturous flood that sweeps all before it. Distantly, I note the long, wavering moan escaping my throat - that can’t be me, can it? - and then I’m floating in pure bliss.
The slowly receding tide leaves me euphoric and limp for several delightful moments as my husband continues lapping at me like a happy cat with cream...
Until I spy the puncture mark in the fine leather headrest of the Rolls Royce’s backseat. “Oh, my God! Did I do that?!”
Chuckling, Grant sits up, inspecting the damage. “Well, your high heel did.”
“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod , I’m sorry! You can take the repairs out of my settle-”
“Like hell, I will. I like to think it gives this backseat some character.”
“Character?!”
“Mmm, a nice way to remember the night.”
Our eyes meet and I feel my face growing hot again. What do we do now? What do we say after that? And, when might he do that again?
He reaches for a glass and pours a finger of scotch. “A chaser for your sweetness,” he says, passing it to me. I sip the strong liquor, letting it sink into my bones until I stop fretting about the damaged seat.
Once it’s gone, he takes the glass from me with purposeful movements, setting it aside before he leans in. “Didn’t you want a drink?’
“I’ve had enough liquor tonight but I’d like another taste of you,” he rumbles. I’m not about to refuse him. Languid and luxurious, this kiss is just as full of passion as the first one at the party but even more special. Special because no one is watching this one. This one is for us.
I can taste the scotch and my arousal and Grant, a heady mix. Just as our lips break apart, the car accelerates without warning as we’re taking a turn, throwing me off balance. I yelp and Grant’s arm wraps protectively around me. “I believe he may have heard you earlier.”
God, Anders . My mortification slams into me like a freight train.
But, Grant is unfazed. He punches a button to speak while keeping the divider up. “Slow the fuck down. I want my wife in one piece when I take her to bed tonight.”
A chastened Anders quietly replies, “Yes, sir.”
“Perhaps we should get you in your seatbelt,” Grant suggests once the car slows down.
“Perhaps we need to figure out how I’m supposed to walk into the house with my torn dress.”
“You don’t have to walk in if I’m carrying you.”
Oof, those butterflies are having one hell of a party in my belly judging by all their flapping. From sexy to sweet, my husband is full of surprises tonight.
Before I can think too much about all of this, my phone starts buzzing in my purse. “It might be Mimi.” He nods as I retrieve it.
But, it’s not Mimi. It’s Jewel. Why is my sister calling me now? She’s not returned any of my calls or let on to me once since I gave her this number. “Hello?”
“Daisy, I’m sorry to bother you but… could you come get me?” She hates asking me for anything and all my sisterly instincts are immediately on high alert.
“Of course. Where are you?”
When she answers, I steal a glance at my husband’s concerned look, knowing he won’t like this one bit.