Page 40 of The Gamma's Second Chance

But how can it be wrong when it feels so right? When she responds so beautifully to my touch and gives me command of her body? When she’s quivering in my arms, a second away from begging me to fuck her against the front door?

“Are you sure you want this?” I ask, gasping for air but still kissing her between my words.

I know she does. I can feel it in how she’s clinging to me and kissing me and hear it in the cadence of her breathing and the melody of her moans. But something in me needs her to say it. I need verbal confirmation from her.

“Are you sure?” she asks, echoing my question back to me, her arms tightening around my neck.

I pulse my hips against hers, nudging against her entrance through her tight little shorts. “What makes you think I wouldn’t be?”

One shoulder lifts in a shrug, and I kiss down her jaw as she answers me. “I don’t know. There was that ring on your table, and—”

I growl and nip at her throat, cutting her off. “I’m kissing you like my life will end if I don’t, grinding my dick against your pussy, and you’re worried about a fucking piece of jewelry you saw on my table weeks ago?”

She smiles, a soft laugh shaking her body in my arms. I slide my hands up her back, bringing the hem of the shirt with them and wrapping the fabric around my fist, yanking it so it molds to her perky breasts, showcasing the perfect roundness of them.

“Now tell me, Cassandra: are you sure you want this?” I ask again, one hand tracing the waistband of her shorts, raising goosebumps on her smooth, soft, flawless skin.

“Goddess, yes,” she says with a sigh, her chin tilting up and her pussy rubbing along my dick as her hips roll.

“Thank fuck.”

I groan in relief, my hand slipping into her shorts as I tear the shirt over her head. She clutches at my shoulders, the back of her head hitting the door as my fingers reach her pussy, and my other hand cups her breast through her bra. My growl of satisfaction echoes off the door at what my fingers find in her shorts.

“You’re fucking soaked for me, Daisy,” I say, thumbing over her hardened nipple as my fingers play with her wet pussy lips.

She rewards me with a soft moan, and fuck if it isn’t the most beautiful piece of music I have ever heard. I pinch her nipple, tugging it so it hardens more, still teasing her entrance withmy other hand—but steering clear of her clit for now. She bares her neck to me as she writhes while I play with her, and I slice through her sports bra, throwing it to the ground as her breasts bounce free from the confining fabric. They rise and fall with each of her rapid breaths, soft and creamy and full, and topped with gorgeous pink nipples that point straight towards me, both of them hard and waiting for me to taste.

My hand leaves her shorts and I cup her bare breasts, kissing her neck as I caress them, taking my time to appreciate the softness of her body. They fit perfectly in my large hands, her nipples peeking out between my fingers. Her body rocks against mine, and I pin her to the door with my hips, my hands playing with and exploring her breasts. I alternate between rough, massaging squeezes and soft, featherlight touches, and she responds to each with equal enthusiasm, sighing and moaning almost nonstop.

“Do you like this?” I ask her, kissing the front of her throat.

She groans, her body vibrating with pleasure under my ministrations. “I do.”

I can’t help but smile against her skin, and my fingers circle her nipples. “What else do you like?”

“Everything,” she says on an exhale. “I like everything you’re doing, Nolan. And I want more. I need more.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Daisy…” I chuckle, leaning forward so the vibrations travel from my chest through my hands and to her breasts. “I’m going to give you more.”

My lips travel from her neck to her chest, and I lift a breast, encircling her nipple with my mouth and teasing it with my tongue. Her taut stomach clenches, and her hands tighten, gripping my shirt in her fists. I moan with her breast in my mouth and squeeze the other, letting my palm scrape over her nipple.

Her lips part as she catches her breath, and she scratches at my back through my shirt. I kiss down her body, shimmying out of my shirt and tossing it aside as I kneel in front of her. My palm skims up the outside of her leg, stroking the full length of it, kissing her hip bone exposed by the skewed waistband of her shorts. When I reach the top of her thigh, I trace swirling lines on her skin, and she blinks at me, watching my hand as it draws spiraling shapes on her leg.

I bite her waistband, yanking it as far as the elastic will allow before letting it snap back into place, eliciting a tiny yelp from her. “The one day you don’t wear a dress,” I say, shaking my head as I scold her.

“You like my dresses?”

“Like them? I love them. But I also hate them.” She cocks her head in confusion. “I hate how they hide your perfect legs from my eyes,” I say, skimming my palm down and back up the side of her leg. “But I love how it means no one else can see them either.” I tug on her shorts again before tearing through the stretchy fabric of them and her underwear with one claw, leaving her naked, her fingernails scraping against the front door. “And I love that they’ll give me access to this.” I run my knuckle between her lower lips, gliding it from her entrance to her clit, stopping right before I touch it.

From the floor between her legs, I gaze up at her, taking in every inch of her stunning beauty, reveling in it. Delight is painted across her face, her lips shining and parted, a pink flush spreading over her cheeks and down her chest. Her soft, subtle curves tempt and tease my eyes, from the swell of her full breasts to the dip in her waist before the slight flare of her hips, to her gorgeous, endless legs I adore so much. She trembles in anticipation, body pressed to the door, waiting for me to give her what she wants.

Everything about her begs me to touch her. To taste her. To fuck her. She’s a wildflower, plucked from a field and placed in my home to brighten my days and lighten my soul. She’s a song I want to play on my guitar, one that is yet to be written but is stuck in my head on an endless loop.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Daisy,” I say, leaning closer to her waiting pussy, my finger slipping between her lips. I inhale, my hand squeezing her thigh, stopping its mindless drawing of swirls on her skin. “And you smell just as exquisite.” I hover over her, teasing her entrance with my warm breath, little desperate cries leaving her lips. “I wonder if you taste exquisite, too.”

My finger thrusts up into her, and a shout of pleasure escapes her as I kiss her pussy, focusing the attention of my lips on her clit. I keep her in place with my hand on her thigh, helping her stay upright as I taste her for the first time.

It’s fucking heaven.

---