9-VINCENT
My eyes flicked to her mouth again, with the same look as if I was reading every thought she was trying to hide.
My hand dropped forward, and the material of her dress was high enough to give me a show, if we weren’t so damn close.
As each finger pad curved around the front of her underwear, I could feel her nervous system firing up.
Cradling her lips and throbbing clit in my palm.
The air between us wasn’t charged anymore. Combustible was more the word I would describe how this felt to me. A flame threatening a tinder box.
The look in her eyes screamed nothing less than begging for this—For me. It fucking killed me that it was the same way Jori used to look at me. I had to be patient because she wasn’t Jori.
Because I started this all for her, each runner reminded me of her in their own little ways. But Daisy— there wasn’t enough time in the next twelve hours for me to do everything I wanted to do with her. And from the way heat radiated from between her legs, I think she agreed.
Her thumbs worked my pants, like she just knew how every little thing behind my mask worked. This is where normal people would be passionately kissing. That wouldn’t happen, which was a shame because I knew her lips were soft.
Daisy’s hand dropped into my jeans, feeling the fullness of my cock as it twitched under the thin brief material and her touch, begging to be freed. It was fucking impossible to focus on her and the routine I planned out.
Touch her. Undress her. Please her however she would want.
Then my needs came into play. Even if it came to sneaking off after she’s asleep and replaying everything in my mind to prevent blue balls, I would.
But she was touching me like there were no contracts or rules to follow.
Her hands were on me as if our bodies recognized each other and we had catching up to do.
Her legs parted slightly, giving me space to feel all of her, rubbing front to back over her lacy white underwear that I suddenly despised.
Fingers gripping the top elastic, I yanked them down to her knees. The breath that hitched into her lungs was fucking cute and made my cock jolt harder under the warmth radiating from her hand.
My middle finger slid between her lips with ease and curled into her. Daisy froze, eyes wide.
I didn’t want to retreat, and I didn’t want to stop, but I had to ask something to keep her comfortable. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” She breathed, and her thumb rubbed against me. “I just think this might be weird if I can’t kiss you.”
My jaw flexed under the mask. Because, God, I wanted to kiss her back. But I couldn’t. I slid a second finger into her, trying to distract her, distract myself from her request. “You’re going to have to get over that because my mask can’t come off. Code.”
“I can try, but nothing pulls me into the moment more than when my lips are locked to yours, and the texture of your tongue sneaks into my mouth.”
I huffed, amused. What was she? A goddamn poet? “How about we continue undressing and go from there?”
“You first. All I have left is the dress.”
Fuck. I pulled out of her with the thought of her hands on my bare cock. Her soft hands and nonintimidating grip stroking me before I split her open.
I peeled off my shirt, ripped off my pants, and tossed them into a pile across the room.
Daisy’s eyes trickled all over my body and focused the moment I dropped my briefs, springing to life.
Her gaze wandered back up my body before glancing at my eyes.
Her jaw tightened, and she swallowed before catching another look at my body.
“Your turn, Wildflower.”
She fiddled with a zipper in the back, the noise filling the room as it descended inch by inch. In a swift movement, she bundled it over her head, tousling her hair that she immediately attempted to fix.
Her body relaxed back into its position as I slowly crawled over the bed to her.
Daisy was giving Aphrodite a run for her money, if it wasn’t her in the flesh.
Splitting her open, my hand found its place again with two fingers inside her.
Watching her body receive my fingers only made me think of sliding my dick into her.
Which was sitting there. Throbbing. Oozing.
And I couldn’t do anything about it. Not yet.
Her stomach fluttered. Scared of what reaction I would find, I glanced at her face. Her hand covered her mouth, and she was laughing, fucking laughing like I told her a joke.
“What?”
Her hands met over her belly button. “I feel like I’m at the gynecologist.”
“Your doctor checks you naked, rocking a hard on?”
“No. It’s the mask. I can’t get in the right headspace without seeing your face.”
“Your body is saying otherwise. Try closing your eyes and pretending.”
Daisy followed the instructions, and then a grin formed.
I laughed once—low, rough. “You’re not supposed to smile at me like that.”
“Why?” Her eyes cracked open. “Scared I’ll ruin your edge?”
No. Because she wasn’t supposed to be the one who made me want to take the mask off. She wasn’t supposed to make me want to bend and break all the rules. Who would know? Would she tell?
“You always this defiant?”
“Are you always this gentle with your gynecologist hands?” Shit, she was making it hard for me not to just drive into her and show her what she does to me.
I moved over her, lining up our faces. Our bodies were tempted to touch each other as I hovered. “I’m trying to make you feel like the only person who could make me happy, because you’re not replaceable. I want to attend every inch of you.”
Her lips broke, and she barely whispered, “Then take off your mask. I won’t tell.”
She wouldn’t tell. Fuck. I wanted to kiss her, but in the end, I would be risking my contract and payment.
You got paid half up front for travel fees and maintaining the image.
The second half you got for fulfilling the fantasy, which, if you broke the contract, you forfeit your second payment.
Taking the mask off dissolved the fantasy, and I was starting to think it was worth it.
“You’re making this weird. I’m starting to think we know each other and that’s why you’re not.”
“I think you would have figured it out by now if we knew each other.” I tilted my head to the side. “And I can assure you, we don’t.”
“Are you sure you’re not just a weird guy from high school trying to fuck me?”
Her words dug into me, hitting me just right. I wanted her to trust me, feel safe, and I wanted her to kiss me.
Keeping the woman safe and keeping the fantasy alive was what Heather asked of us. I was doing that. Rule number one was no unmasking at any time. So what was more important? How would they know I did?
“If I do—” My gaze was locked onto her with my voice low. “It’s no longer fantasy. It’s real.”
“Then let’s make it real.” She didn’t hesitate, didn’t pause. She said what we both wanted. A risky impulse choice could cancel my contract. Maybe I was already done with it.
Fighting wildfires you kept one foot in the black. It was burned out, it was safe, and your exit if things got too life threatening. But I wasn’t fighting wildfires—I was fighting Wildflower and I was stepping out of the black.
Without another thought, my knees balanced on each side of her, digging into the mattress.
My body was fully exposed, and I gripped the top of the mask around my fingers, and the material clung to my face until the cool air washed over me.
I pushed my hair out of my face and against my scalp, looking down at Daisy.
Wondering what she thought, if she approved, and if it was worth risking my contract and twenty thousand dollars for.
I expected her to joke. Or smirk. Or make light of it to ease the tension.
But Daisy just looked at me. And something in her expression softened in a way I couldn’t defend against. Her shoulders dropped, her posture opened, and she stared at me like the ground tilted beneath her, trying to decide whether to fall or reach out for me.
Propped up on her elbows, her gaze continued as if she couldn’t believe she was seeing me. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. “Oh. My. God.” Her eyes dropped, taking in all of me. “You’re fucking hot.”
Thank God.