Page 16 of Plucking His Daisy

He winks at me before barking out a laugh. “Mimosas are mostly champagne,” he reminds me with a shrug.

I sink into the good feeling of my relationship with Lorenzo being celebrated instead of being ended in bloodshed. It really could have gone down a different way. This way is better; so much better.

CHAPTER 8

LORENZO

The moment we step back into my place, I grab Daisy and pull her back against my chest, my voice a husky rasp, “You were such a good fucking girl today,principessa.”

She makes a humming sound which has me spinning her in my arms and gazing down at her. I get lost for a moment, taking in her beauty and soaking up how damn lucky I am that she’s here in my arms. The thought of her waking up in someone else’s bed this morning after she auctioned herself off last night sits like a weight in my gut. It makes me angry, but I don’t let the feeling take root because it didn’t work out that way.

I needed the push; I just had no idea she would shove me so fucking hard.

I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs moving back and forth across her cheekbones. “I’m serious. You defended me, you fought for me, you exposed yourself.”

“I wasn’t going to let him kill you, Lorenzo,” her voice is fierce and full of loyal conviction.

“I know.” My smile becomes a crooked thing made of boyhood dreams before time was lost and everything mattered. “Your loyalty and your fire draws me in and doesn’t let me go.” With my lips hovering over hers I whisper, “I don’t want it to.”

When our lips meet this time it’s sweet and slow, measured and sure, but then it shifts and becomes unending passion wrapped up in a fight for dominance, one she surrenders to. Willingly. She’s had to fight for herself, even if only to get a slightly bigger cage, her whole life. I knew she felt trapped, I could see it in her eyes when she would look at me sometimes. I’d see the panic of someone cornered and having no idea where to run.

This battle, the one between us, she’s already won it. And she knows it.

“Lorenzo,” she moans, and I swallow down the sound, tasting it on my tongue and making it a part of me.

She melts against me as I haul her up my chest. When her legs wrap around my waist, I feel the heat from her pussy, and it’s my undoing. I stride through my place and right back to bed. Was it only hours ago that we were here? It feels like it was so long ago.

When I lay her down on the bed, I grip her neck, my thumb pressing up on her chin, forcing her gaze up to mine. “You’re gorgeous, Daisy. So damn beautiful it’s been hard for me to look at you. I’d steal glances, but it pained me.”

“Why?”

“Because I thought I couldn’t have you and I would have to ignore the fire in my veins which burns for you. I thought you were something I couldn’t touch because I would sully you.”

“I like the way you dirty me up,” she confesses.

The truth in her words, the way she doesn’t mind the blood on my hands and the violence in my soul, makes me fall deeper in love with her. I’ve denied her. I’ve denied us. I pushed her away.

Yet, she’s right here with me.

She’s not running, she’s holding on and she’s going to weather whatever life brings us. It won’t always be pretty, life never is, but maybe, with her, it’ll be manageable. Even the darkness. Even the light. Even the sadness. Even the joy.

I strip her and then look my fill as I undress. When I hover over her, I see the desperation in her eyes, to be set free, to fly. I kiss her hard, my tongue forcing its way past her lips, taking because I can, owning because I do.

I flip us and feast on the image of her on top of me, on display, on a pedestal she would hate, but deserves. My voice is husky and low, “You’re going to ride me until you cover my cock in your sweet cream.”

She gasps and nods eagerly as I cup her tits in my hands. Her fingers wrap around my cock and then she rises to position the tip at her entrance. I watch, entranced, transfixed, by the pleasure which masks her face, so different from the way she’s hidden herself from her brothers, from the world, from me before I was willing to do what I should have done six months ago.

I capture her wrists in my hands, pulling them behind her back and causing her tits to tip upward as her back bows slightly. As I hold them tight with one hand, she starts to undulate on my cock, her hips testing, teasing, taking for herself. With my free hand on her hip, I help her to bounce up and down on my cock.

I revel in the feeling of her warmth wrapped around me, the way the walls of her pussy grip me and don’t want to let me go. Clenching my jaw, I try to hold off and not give in to the pleasure completely. I want this to last; I need it to.

I want to be awash in her pleasure, drowning in it and sucking it down because it’s the oxygen I need to breathe, to feel whole, to feel clean. Through her I’m a better man. Worthy. A man who can bask in the light instead of being trapped in the darkness.

“Fuck,” I grunt, “you feel so damn good wrapped around my cock, Daisy.”

A small smile plays on her lips but when I thrust up into her as my length fills her, she gasps, and her eyes roll back in her head. “Lorenzo,” she shouts, “yes, more.”

My balls are drawing up, but I’m not done with her yet. The feel of her is almost too much, but I hold tight to my self-control even as it feels like the leash is slipping from my hands. It can’t. Not yet.

---