Page 58 of The Summer I First Saw You
I push the pants and boxers to the floor, fling the T-shirt somewhere behind me, and drop to the far end of the couch on my knees. “Spread those legs, Daisy,” I demand, and she complies with a quiet gasp.
I run my index finger over her, from her clit to her entrance and back. “You’re dripping for me,” I say, sucking a finger into my mouth.
“I’ve been like this for weeks,” she says with a shaky laugh,and Jesus Christ, those words alone could probably make me blow.
I push her thighs farther apart and bury my face between her legs the way I desperately wanted to the other night.
“You don’t have to,” she breathes.
“Why not? Am I missing your clit like everyone else?”
Her laugh turns into a gasp as my tongue resumes. “No. No, I’m pretty sure you’ve found it. Jesus.”
My tongue flickers as I circle her entrance and she moans, so I do it again, applying more pressure. I slide one finger inside her and then a second. It’s such a tight fit that I hiss between my teeth at the idea of getting inside her.
“Let me make it good for you,” I tell her. “Too hard? Too soft? I want you to tell me exactly what you need.”
She sucks in a breath. “I just—oh God, Harrison. That’s good. Like that. You don’t have to keep going, but—”
I push two fingers in again, against her inside wall, and let my tongue resume.
“Faster,” she pleads. “With your fingers. Oh, fuck. Yes. That’s perfect.”
She’s arching to get closer to me, her hand palming my scalp, tugging my hair. Her breath comes faster and faster. My tongue picks up speed, in time with my fingers.
“I’m already close,” she whispers. “Oh, God.”
She clamps down on my fingers as she goes over the edge, her head falling backward. There are certain things you can’t fake, and the way she’s convulsing against my fingers is among them.
My pride in this is almost indecent. It’s every best moment I’ve ever had combined—my biggest wave, my first aerial, graduating. It’s all of them together and twice as good, and I’m so fucking hard as she curses and tugs at my hair that I can’t even exult in it too much.
Her eyes open slowly, and she gives me a crooked grin. “Okay, that was worth it.” Her hand slides down to stroke me. “I wanted to be the one doing this Monday night,” she says. Her thumb runs over the head of my cock, spreading the moisture there. She strokes me again, and I wrap my hand around her wrist.
“You’ve got to stop,” I groan.
She frowns, already wounded, and I laugh. “I’m not saying Iwantyou to stop. I’m just saying I’m going to come if you keep going, and I’d rather be inside you.”
Her mouth curves and her legs open. “Then by all means, get inside me.”
Fuck. I can see why the men she’s been with have been such a disappointment. Who could possibly last when she’s smiling the way she is, when she’s demanding I get inside her in that raspy voice?
I climb above her. “Do I need anything?”
“No,” she says, suddenly breathless. “Just please—” She raises her hips, urging me to hurry, and I slam inside her in a single hard thrust that knocks the breath from us both.
My mouth finds hers as I thrust again, my hand sliding up to palm a breast, to pinch her nipple. “Fuck, Daisy, this is not going to last.”
“I don’t care,” she says, and it frees me to stop caring too. We become tongues and teeth and grasping hands, and when my teeth clamp down on her nipple and she cries out, I nearly lose it right then.
I want to watch, but I know it’ll put me over the edge. I want to make it last, but it’s too wet, too good, too urgent. I come hard inside her with a low groan against her neck. I can’t say I’ve ever had sex I’d consider bad, but this is something else entirely. When I collapse on top of her—still hard and certain that I’ll need more from her in a minute or two—it’s as if I’ve come home.
30
DAISY
Iwas wrong.
Sex is not overrated.
