18. Lorde
Lorde
I must be dreaming, because there’s no way Daisy DeMonte is asking me to give it to her rough moments after she’s accepted my haphazard marriage proposal.
We barely know each other, really. We haven’t even done some of the freakier stuff I’ve been fantasizing about since I met her. I was starting to think she would make me marry her first.
I would have. Probably. This girl got me to do crazier shit first.
Don’t think I don’t know why she brought us back to her apartment.
This whole apartment is Priss with a capital P.
The furniture is so neat and tidy that I believe she cleans it instead of the maid.
Her clothes are neatly hung up in her closet, the door open far enough for me to see it color-coded by the day of the week.
This bedspread is lavender. Lavender .Hey, I’ve fucked in pink beds before, so this ain’t nothing. Simply painting a picture here.
Now, I’ve got her begging for me to give it to her good and hard.
Anywhere. She’d probably be down with me fingering her ass to tease her.
Having her get on her knees to test these waters she’s begging to swim?
If she can handle me coming all over her face, then she can handle the other stuff, maybe.
Look, I’ve been plenty rough with other girls.
Lots of girls. It’s amazing how much women love it when you go wild animal on them.
Tell them what to do. Toss them around like your doll and take everything they offer, one by one, sometimes more than once.
I’ve had girls beg me to come. Make them come.
They think I’m some sex goddess who can go all night regardless of carpal tunnel or the need to, you know, sleep.
Maybe I am a sex goddess. We’ll see.
Fuck, I need her! I knew I was going to get in her the moment we finally entered her apartment, but I was ready before that, too.
Now I’m dying to be freed from these clothes and inside her.
I should do it. I should throw Daisy on her bed and ravage her like she’s asked for.
Yet this is our first time together doing this properly.
I should make it somewhat special, yeah?
No surprise that I’m wet like a goddamn rainstorm. I pull down my jeans far enough for her to get the hint. I’m practically begging her to give me some attention.
She does. I don’t have to tell her to get her tongue in there again. Daisy just does it, starting with her lips on my mound before sucking on my clit until I whine. “Shit, Daze,” I mutter, kicking off my jeans. “Put it all over your mouth. Now.”
Daisy licks my slit and squeezes my damned thighs before rubbing her face all over my cursed pussy. It’s like the other night. Only better, because I can now say that this woman is going to marry me. Soon .
Her eyes look to me for approval. “Am I doing good? Is this what you want? Tell me I’m doing good.” I do. Since she liked it so much the other night, I pull her hair and watch her wince and hear her groan against my cunt.
“Don’t stop,” I growl, my need to fuck her face growing to the point it’s a miracle I’m not slamming my whole pelvis against her cheekbones. “Look at me. I’ve gotta see those eyes.”
I want to see it. The adoration. The way she gazes at me as her thumb strokes my clit when she comes up for air and then she’s back to eating me out, her beautiful hair falling to the side and her perfect nails lightly grazing my skin.
I grab her by the back of the head to maintain control.
Trust me. My hips only care about one thing right now.
If my stupid cunt had its way? I’d come on her tongue again.
Like I’m wasting a perfectly good orgasm like that this time.
“You getting wet?” My thumb rubs her forehead as she obediently keeps up the pace.
Her tongue darts inside me at a steady rhythm.
I can’t tell you what her lips are doing.
I don’t even know how to describe it. Her throat?
Moaning for me. Like other parts of her, I’m sure. “Is your pussy getting ready for me?”
Eyes still on me, Daisy groans in the affirmative. Or at least those eyes say it’s a hearty yes.
“Touch yourself. Make sure you’re dripping by the time I fuck you.”
This is as much for her as it is for me. ‘Cause let me tell you… when your girl is rubbing her slit while eating you out, you’re having a good time. Plus, it makes her whimper all over me and her eyes struggle to stay open. Hell. Yes.
This is my girl.
This is my girl.
Sure, Daisy would make me call her a woman – and what a young woman she is – but there’s something about calling her my girl that makes it feel so much more intimate.
Can I also confess that I’ve never thought of another woman this way?
From the time I started running around in my teenage years, I’ve been waiting for the perfect gal to call mine.
I’ve found her.
Holy hell, have I found her. Now, I’m finally putting that feisty, pouty mouth of hers to good use. My body agrees. I hope she appreciates the taste I’m leaving all over her tongue. Glistening.
I need to go further.
I know she can do it. She did it the other night. She makes no protest holding her head against me, my fingers clutching the edge of her bed. Her concentration has increased, so she looks away.
“No, Daze, look at me.” When she does… holy shit. That’s pure surrender in her beautiful eyes. She’ll do whatever I want. She’ll go along with whatever I want. There is no hesitation between us. This is a woman who will let me have whatever I want.
Her.
I want her.
You know how.
“I can’t,” I finally confess, pushing her off me, catching one of her arms, and pulling her up to the bed. I crash my mouth against hers. Tasting myself. Tasting her as she has interpreted my body. “I have to have you now,” I mutter on her lips. “Now.”