Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
DAISY
“Where are we going?” I ask when he leads me up the staircase.
He glances back at me over his shoulder, hesitating on the third step. “Do you trust me?”
He waits for my nod before he continues, slowing down just long enough for me to catch up to him as we climb the stairs to the second floor. It’s a lot quieter upstairs. A few guests have congregated around a love seat at the top of the staircase, but the rest of the hallway is dark and empty.
Connor guides me with confident steps, heading straight for a door down the hall. He pushes it open and ushers me inside. When the door closes behind us, I realize we’re in a bathroom.
I expect him to pick up where we left off downstairs the moment the door locks, but to my disappointment he leans against it, keeping his distance.
“The bathroom?”
He grins, shrugging. “I thought it was better than me feeling you up on the porch.”
I feel my breath rush straight out of me as he pushes off the door and stalks toward me.
“I’m not sure I want to share you with anyone,” he admits, brushing his thumb against my lips and applying enough pressure to make them pop open. “Unless you want me to?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Good.” He grips my waist and hoists me onto the counter.
I gasp as my legs fall open for him and he steps in close.
His fingers dig into my thighs as his lips brush against mine.
I tilt my head up, trying to bridge the gap between us.
My hand finds the back of his neck, sliding into his hair, and it’s all it takes for him to deepen the kiss. He groans against my lips.
It’s the most gratifying thing in the world to know that I can make this god of a man crumble on the spot like this. I like how responsive he is—I don’t ever have to guess what he’s thinking when we’re like this.
His hands continue their exploration up my thighs and over my hips.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks when his hand slides under my top. I shake my head, clawing at him to get him closer, but he doesn’t budge, nudging the tip of his nose against mine instead. “Use your words.”
I have a hate-love relationship with the way he’s always insisting I say it out loud—my deepest, darkest desires.
If I didn’t believe he would step away the second I so much as hesitated, I would think this man was doing it to stroke his own ego.
But I know better than that. And as infuriating as it is having to verbalize the dirty things that run through my mind—things I’ve never had the courage to say before—I love that even when he’s taking the lead, I’m the one in control.
“Don’t stop.” I sound breathless and desperate even to my own ears, but I’m already too far gone to care.
He presses a kiss to my forehead, a stark contrast to our frantic kiss.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, and it’s almost my undoing—those words from him are like gasoline stoking the fire inside of me.
Then his hands are moving again, one of them trailing down until it dips under my skirt and between my thighs. Light brushes of his fingertips against my bare skin, tickling. Then I feel the swipe of his finger against my core, pressing just enough that I can feel him through my soaked panties.
He groans. “Have you been thinking about this as much as I have?”
“Yes,” I moan. “Please touch me.”
“Mm, I could get used to you begging for me,” he teases, and if I were in a right state of mind and not teetering on the edge of a cliff, I would scoff at him.
But then two fingers slide the material of my panties aside and I forget all about chastising him when he touches me. They skim over my clit, barely touching me before lifting off. He does it again, circling, skimming, teasing for a brief second before slipping away again.
“Please, Connor,” I beg again, against my better judgment. I hate the mess he’s reduced me to, but it’s only for a second before he presses in harder, bringing me higher with each swipe.
“What do you want?” He taunts me.
“More.”
“More of what? Of this?” he asks, applying a little more pressure. He could do anything to me right now and I would let him, as long as he keeps touching me.
“More of you.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod frantically, so close to the brink that I can see it.
I don’t want him to stop whatever this is.
I’m not ready for it to be over. I reach for his belt, shaky fingers slipping the thin strap of leather from its buckle.
But his free hand find mine, stopping me and gently prying them off.
My eyes snap up to his and I realize what he’s waiting for before he even says it.
“Yes, I’m sure,” I tell him, my tongue swiping across my lips, wetting them. “Please Connor, I need you. Just this once.”
He makes a little tsk sound and shakes his head, his fingers halting their movement. “So close Tulip, but we both know once isn’t going to be enough.”
I shake my head, so breathless I’m barely able to form any words at this point. “Bad idea.”
His hand snakes up the back of my neck, lips finding mine again. “Shut up,” he murmurs against my lips, smiling before he tilts his head and diving deeper into the kiss.
Then his fingers move against me again, and I forget all about my excuses at the feeling of him stretching me. It’s been weeks since the last time he touched me, but my body is already so attuned to him.
My shaking fingers free the buttons on his shirt and it falls open.
I stare at his chest where it dips down into a V and disappears beneath his pants, and down further, where his hand is pumping into me.
The front of his slacks are pulled tight around him, a trace of something wet where I’ve rocked against him.
He shifts so we can both see his fingers work in me, and I clench around him.
Fuck, why is that so hot?
Connor slips his fingers out of me to undo his belt, finishing the job I started. As soon as the leather end slips through the buckle, he turns to the cabinet above the sink beside me, frantic hands searching each shelf.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for a condom,” he says, like it’s obvious. When he doesn’t find what he’s looking for in the cabinets, he tries the drawer. The second from the bottom opens to reveal a half-empty box of condoms. “Thank fuck.”
He rips the packaging with his teeth and slides it on himself. Then he’s back between my legs, fingers fishing for my panties. I lift myself up on my hands to help him tug them over my ass and down my legs.
“Fuck, why do you feel so good?” he groans as he eases into me, head resting against my shoulder while he tries to steady his breathing. I rock my hips on the counter, trying to create more friction.
He chuckles against my skin, warm air puffing along my skin and making it pucker. “So needy.”
He dips his head to trail over the exposed skin on my chest, tugging on the already daring neckline to expose more of it.
It’s all too much—kissing, tasting, touching. The feel of his fingers when he grips my hips and pulls me closer, the thrust of his hips against mine, and his tongue drawing wicked circles across my chest.
Everything in me pulls tight and I feel myself free fall toward the edge. He must sense it too, because his movements grow more frantic with each thrust.
“That’s it. Be a good girl and come for me, baby,” he mutters against my skin just when I think I can’t take it any longer, and it’s my undoing—a whole kaleidoscope of stars explodes within me as Connor brings me over the edge again.
He crumbles right with me.
My head lolls back, hitting the mirror, and he buries his face in my neck, arms wrapped around me tightly.
I’m still trying to slow my erratic breathing when he pulls away enough to steal another kiss. “Admit it. Once isn’t enough for your either.”
“Okay,” I tell him as he brushes his thumb over my cheek.
“Okay, what?” His hair is tousled from my fingers dragging through it, there’s a pink tinge to his cheeks that I think I’m matching and a spark in his eyes I haven’t seen before. I think I would do anything for this man, as long as he kept touching me.
“Once isn’t enough,” I admit.