Page 95 of The Rogue and His Flower

“Cool?” I snort with laughter. “That is not a word I ever expected to come out of your mouth.”

“I’ll have you know, my vocabulary is vast and diverse. I’m particularly good at dirty talk,” he replies, his fingers tightening around mine as he tugs me against his chest.

“Is that so?” I tease, arching a brow as he runs his hand down my back and grabs my arse, squeezing it.

“Definitely. Want to hear some?” he asks, dropping his mouth to my ear.

“Why not? Let’s see what you’re made of,” I reply, tingles of excitement rushing down my spine as he chuckles softly.

“Dirty talk doesn’t really have the same effect if we’re not actually being dirty,” he retorts, capturing the lobe of my ear between his teeth and nibbling gently. A smile spreads across my face as he pulls me into his body.

“We’re in public, Dalton,” I protest weakly, my voice breathless as his lips trail down my neck.

“We’re in a maze of mirrors with no one else about,” he counters, his tongue trailing circles over my pulse point.

“There might be cameras,” I argue.

“There are, but I paid the attendant to turn them off. See,” he says, pointing to a camera I can just about make out in the corner of the room, “No red light.”

“You have this all planned out.”

“What can I say? I really want to sink my cock inside of you and feel how wet you are for me right now.”

“Dalton,” I caution, but my tone lacks any real conviction. In fact, it comes across more as a plea than a threat.

“Are you dripping for me, Daisy? Is your clit aching to be touched?” he asks, drawing his lips back up my neck and across my jaw, his mouth hovering over mine. “Are you as turned on as I am right now, knowing I’m about to fuck you so hard that your screams will be heard all the way down the street, let alone in the amusement arcade?”

I gasp as his words send a jolt of desire straight to my core, everything heightened by his dirty mouth and his touch. “You’re very sure of yourself.”

“Stop trying to delay the inevitable, we both know you’re desperate for me,” he accuses against my lips. “Show me, Daisy. Show me just how wet you are.”

Without thinking, I slip my hand beneath the waistband of my skirt, then my knickers, brushing my fingers through my drenched core. My eyes stutter shut briefly as I tease my clit.

“I didn’t tell you to finger-fuck yourself,” Dalton warns, gripping my forearm and dragging it back up. Holding my arm, he smirks, eyeing my glistening fingers. “Thought so.”

With a growl he captures my fingers with his lips, drawing them into his mouth, humming around the taste. I stare at him, my mouth popping open as he twirls his tongue around my fingers, sucking them clean.

“Fucking delicious.”

“I’m—”

“Going to fuck you now,” he grinds out, and without another word, he spins me around and pushes me against the nearest wall of mirrors, his hands grabbing my hips. “Palms against the mirror. Eyes on me.”

As Dalton’s hands grip my hips, I obey, pressing my palms against the cool surface, meeting his eyes in the reflection before us. I feel the heat of his body behind me, his breath hot against my neck.

“When I slide my cock inside of you, I want you to know that every sound you make, every word you say, every thrashing beat of your heart and thrum of your pulse is because of me and what I’m doing to you,” he grinds out.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“You’re pleasure is mine,” he says, gripping my skirt, gathering the material and rolling it over my hips, tucking it intomy waistband. Then he grabs my arse, and says “This delicious arse is mine.”

“Yours,” I agree.

“This pussy,” he says, reaching between my legs and cupping me over the fabric of my knickers, “Is mine to fuck.”

“That too,” I whimper, as he pushes the material of my knickers to one side and presses two of his fingers inside of me. I gasp, eyes fluttering shut as he finger-fucks me steadily, the motion making me moan, making me wetter, hotter, needier.

“Eyes. On. Me,” he repeats, and my eyelids snap open, our gazes clashing. “Does that feel good, Daisy?”

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