28. Daisy
DAISY
Curled sideways across Vandal’s lap, my cheek pressed up against his shoulders, and his arms wrapped tightly around me, I almost can’t believe my fortune.
Because life has taught me that if it feels too good to be true, it likely is.
But here, where the garden is quiet except for the chorus of frogs somewhere out in the marsh, where the air smells like cooked grass, I want to believe it with my whole heart.
Neither of us has spoken for several minutes. We’ve simply sat here, processing what we just talked about, while his hand moves slowly up and down my arm.
I know Vandal is giving me time to find my own words, but unfortunately my brain appears determined to make that impossible.
“You ever wish you could just switch your mind off?” I ask.
His chest rumbles beneath my cheek. “You got a racing brain?”
“Every damn day.”
The conversation we had earlier keeps replaying. Pieces of my past, the things I said out loud. Some things I wish I could suck back in because they aren’t Vandal’s burden to carry.
“I’m tired,” I admit. “But I know if I go to bed right now, I won’t be able to sleep because all these things will just keep circling in my mind until I’m one step away from a panic attack.”
Vandal huffs at that. “I know that feeling. It wasn’t so much that I wanted the booze and the pills. In fact, I hated being that out of control and out of character. But there were some nights, hell, there were some weeks where it felt like I wouldn’t sleep unless something would knock me out.”
“So, you aren’t an addict? Or weren’t before?”
Vandal shrugs. “Saying I’m not feels disingenuous, yet saying I am doesn’t feel like the whole story. It’s more like there was a period in my life that became too hard to get over without assistance, and I just chose the wrong kind of help.”
I raise my hand to his cheek. “You know you can talk to me when things feel too big to carry on your own.”
He places his lips to mine and kisses me gently. “You simply being here makes me feel big enough to carry whatever I need to.”
“Tomorrow, maybe, I’ll remind you that it’s good to talk, no matter how big or strong you are.”
He kisses me again, his hand gripping my hip as he does. Something in me stirs, a pulsing at my core. But I’m stuck in my past too much to fully embrace it.
“Vandal?”
“Yeah, sweetheart.”
“I know it sounds cliché, but I think I need a night with you where you don’t give me the chance to think about anything.”
He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilts my head to look at him. I can feel heat creep up my cheeks at saying that to him, but he shakes his head.
“Don’t ever feel embarrassed asking me for what you want, because nothing would make me happier than giving you whatever it is. But before I make assumptions, I’d rather you just be clear in what it is you need.”
“Don’t make me say it.”
Vandal kisses me again. Harder this time. His tongue meets mine, and I can’t help the moan that escapes me.
Then, as suddenly as he started, he stops. “As you so rightly pointed out, we still don’t know each other all that well. And I don’t wanna do anything you don’t consent to, or worse, anything that will hurt you. So I want you to be explicit. And trust me, it’s really fucking hot when you are.”
“I want you to take me. Violate me. I want it to be messy and hard and hot. But quiet. Because we can’t wake Elsie.”
Vandal touches my cheek tenderly, even as I feel his cock growing hard beneath me. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
“Oh, and does your bedroom door have a lock on it?”
“No. It doesn’t. Yet. But I’ll drag the dresser in front of it if it will make you happy.”
He stands then, lifting me into his arms.
“I can walk,” I remind him.
“I know you can, but where would be the fun in that.”
He carries me to his room but pauses outside Elsie’s room to check on her. And the move melts my heart. My little girl looks safe and comfortable and warm.
When we reach his room, he puts me down near the bottom of the bed. Then he closes the door and does exactly what he said he would do. As if it weighs nothing, he drags the dresser until it overlaps the door by a few inches.
“First job tomorrow is to go to the hardware store to buy a lock,” he mutters when he wraps his hands around me before kissing me thoroughly. “Now,” he says, stepping away from me, “I need you to strip.”
My eyes go wide. “What?”
He whips his belt off his jeans, opens the button and zipper, then readjusts his now very erect cock.
“I don’t like that your brain is racing with shit about a man who didn’t deserve you. And you don’t like it either. But seems to me that unless I really push you, you’re gonna be half here and half there.”
My cheeks heat again. Not because I’m embarrassed, but because it’s true.
“What was it you said you wanted tonight?”
“Something rough.”
He smirks. “Don’t simplify it. I think what you said was that you want me to take you. Violate you. And something about it being messy and hard and hot. Oh, and we need to be quiet. Because we can’t wake Elsie. So strip.”
As if to punctuate the conversation, he slips his hand into his underwear and strokes himself in a way that makes my thighs clench together.
He smiles like he knows exactly what he’s doing, his hand moving up and down. His gaze drags down my body slowly, and I have a giddy realization that this is probably more like who he is. And what I might have experienced before was the watered-down version.
“Are you gonna make me repeat myself, Daisy?” he asks.
A rush of anticipation fills my veins, because while I’ve often thought of Vandal as intense, it’s different when all that intensity is directed at me. I should probably be nervous, but instead, my pulse kicks even harder.
“I like this version of you,” I admit.
He smiles at that. “You might not like the version of me that comes out if you keep stalling taking your clothes off.”
I’ve never stripped for a man. I’ve got zero clue how to make it look sexy. But I do my best to channel how he makes me feel about my body. He looks at it with a kind of worship I find hard to believe.
Slowly, I run my hands over my breasts and down my body to the hem of my T-shirt. When I reach it, I inch it up slowly. His eyes follow the lifting cotton, and he runs his tongue over his lips when my shirt clears my bra.
I tug it over my head and throw it at him.
He smiles as he catches it, then tosses it onto the dresser.
I unbutton my shorts and lower the zipper. But instead of sliding them over my hips just yet, I dip my finger beneath my panties, mirroring what he’s doing. Then I buck when I slide them through the wetness that’s gathering there.
My head falls back, and I take a deep breath. I can’t look at him yet, because if I do, I might lose the edge I—
“Fuck, that’s hot,” Vandal says gruffly.
His validation makes me open my eyes. His lips are slightly parted. His eyes hooded. “You said you wanted me to help you get out of your head. But I think you’re better at it than I am.”
I don’t answer, but the truth is, I only feel this brave because he’s the man standing opposite me.
He stops stroking his cock for a second and reaches for my wrist. Sliding my hand out of my panties, he brings it to his nose first and inhales deeply.
“Love the smell of your pussy,” he says. Then he leads my fingers to his mouth, dragging them over his lower lip, before sliding his tongue between them.
Him just sucking my fingers would be hot, but the sight of his tongue sliding between them, mimicking that act of going down on me, makes everything inside me tighten with a shudder.
“I don’t know the name and face of every man who made you feel afraid. But I’m gonna spend a lifetime erasing them.” He releases my wrist. “Now finish taking off your clothes.”
In a moment of inspiration, I turn my back on him as I bend and shimmy my denim shorts down my legs. I threw out every single pair of sexy lingerie my ex had bought. It felt tainted somehow. So all Vandal gets is practical white cotton.
“Wanna fuck you with a view of that ass, Daze.”
A warm palm strokes over my panties. Then a thumb presses the fabric between the cracks in my cheeks. My body jolts when he presses close to my asshole.
When I stand back up, Vandal’s arms wrap around my waist. Then his hand dips beneath the waistband of my panties.
“You’re taking too long,” he mutters against my ear.
His other hand comes up and cups my throat, holding my head back to his chest.
Thick fingers slide over my clit. “Put your feet outside of mine,” he says.
I do as he asks. But it’s only when they’re in position that I realize just how far apart they are.
I’ve never really struggled to orgasm, but I’ve never been able to while standing. When the thought intrudes, Vandal bites my shoulder.
“Focus on me,” he reminds, as if he knows I got into my own head again. “This pussy is mine. The only fingers allowed to touch it are mine.”
Within the confine of my panties, he pulls his fingers away from my skin, then slaps firmly over my clit.
The action makes me jump against him, and I feel the hardness of his cock against my back.
He repeats the action twice more. And I find it impossible to believe that the orgasm is right there on the edge already.
Slowly, his thick finger breaches between my lips, and I suck in air as I press my head back against his chest.
“Already drenched for me,” he whispers against the shell of my ear. Then his tongue brushes over my lobe before he nips it.
He slides his finger into me, and I can’t help the way my hips roll against his hand.
“Vandal,” I cry out.
“Love it when you’re greedy. I wanna feel you come tight around my fingers. Wanna wring an orgasm out of you before I get my cock out. Because when I do, I’m not gonna be able to stop.”
He circles my clit, then slides back inside.
“I’m gonna wanna rut inside you, babe. Balls deep when I come. I’m gonna fill you so full, you’re gonna feel like you wanna burst apart.”
I grab hold of his wrists, the one pinning my neck, the one fucking me so thoroughly.
My brain can no longer control my body. My legs shake, and my breath comes thick and fast.
The speed of his finger fucking me increases, his knuckles brushing my clit with every stroke. The pressure isn’t enough, and yet I don’t want this sensation to end.
“Van,” I cry when it gets too much, but he lets go of my neck and places his palm over my mouth.
“Not too loud,” he chides. “Although one day, I’m gonna enjoy hearing you scream.”