Page 120 of The Rogue and His Flower

“I woke up to dirty thoughts of filling you with my cum,” he says, dropping his lips to mine and kissing me as the heel of his palm presses against my clit. “Last night you bewitched me with your touch. I was so soothed by it that I fucking fell asleep. Believe me when I say, that willneverhappen again.”

“There’s nothing wrong with…” I moan, his hand moving over my tender flesh.

“Nothing wrong with what, wife?” he softly goads, nuzzling my neck.

“Feeling relaxed enough to fall asleep.” I gasp as he gently strokes his finger over the fabric of my knickers.

“I was turned on, you know. So fucking turned on, I want you to know that, but I forced myself to remain still, wanting to know what would happen if I just allowed the moment to play out,” he explains, his fingers sliding beneath my panties, a groan releasing from his lips as he finds me soaking for him.

“L–like I said, loving someone isn’t just about sex, Dalton,” I mutter, my words tripping awkwardly off my tongue as he fingers me slowly.

“Are you saying you love me?” he jokes, a sexy smile pulling up his lips as he pulls back slightly, looking down at me.

“There’s so much about you worth lov–” I begin, but he dips his finger inside of me deeper, and I forget how to breathe, let alone speak.

“You don’t need to say anything. I wasn’t searching for any affirmations,” he adds, his smile slowly fading as heat and lust glimmers in his eyes. “In fact, the only sound I want coming out of your mouth are those pretty little moans that turn me on so much. So will you let me touch you, kiss you, taste you?”

“Only if you let me do that to you in return. This isn’t one sided, Dalton. If you’re going to pleasure me, then I want to pleasure you too,” I reply, drugged by his attention, caught up in the moment, needing his touch, wanting his kisses, wanting to taste him.

“Good girl,” he replies as he removes his hand from my pulsing core then sits up, sliding off the end of the bed. I can’t help but stare at his beautiful body, at the way his erection bobs between his thighs as he stares down at me. “Take your dress off, wife,” he orders.

I bite my lip, drawing upright to do as he commands, slipping off my dress until I’m left in just my lace knickers. I hadn’t worn a bra yesterday, the humidity making it too uncomfortable, and Dalton’s gaze flares with more heat at my bare breasts, his gaze slowly lowering to my knickers.

“Those too.”

He holds his hand out to me and I wriggle out of my panties, passing them to him. Dalton bunches them up in his hand and lifts them to his nose, breathing in deep.

“Fuck, you smell delicious,” he grinds out, before lowering his hand to his cock, and using my knickers to fist his length.

I gasp at the eroticism of the moment, how he stands there and fucks himself with my arousal-stained panties. “Jesus,” I mutter, my body lighting up with desire.

“Do you like watching me pleasure myself?”

“Yes,” I breathe, turned on beyond belief.

“Good, but we’re both going to enjoy this more,” he grinds out, dropping my underwear to the floor, and grasping my ankles with a wicked grin on his face as he pulls me to the end of the bed.

My legs hang over the mattress, my toes grazing the floor as he parts my knees, licking his lips as he stares at my pussy. As much as I want him to eat me out, I want to taste him more, so I push upright before he has a chance to drop to his knees.

“It’s my turn,” I say, grabbing his cock gently before he has time to protest.

“Fuck, Daisy,” he mutters, his chin dropping to his chest as he looks down at me, at my fingers grasping him.

“This isn’t just about me,” I remind him, gently fisting his cock. “I want to make you feel good too.”

“You already make me feel good, Daisy. Just being in your presence makes me feel so fucking good,” he admits, resting his hand on my head, stroking my hair. “I fucking adore you.”

My heart clenches as I drag in a sharp breath. “Are you saying you love me?” I whisper, half-joking, half-serious.

Our eyes clash, but when he doesn’t answer, I simply smile then press a gentle kiss against the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, jerking in my hands as his fingers slide into my hair and tighten around the strands.

Emboldened, I tentatively lick his crown, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum, humming around the taste before I lick the round head of his cock.

“Jesus, fuck,” he mutters, eyelids drooping as he looks down at me, and I look up at him. “Look at you. So fucking pretty, so fucking mine. My pretty, little flower.”

“Flower?” I question, smiling as I brush my lips against his cock.

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