Page 122 of The Rogue and His Flower

“I’m going to stuff you full of my seed, wife. I’m going to fill you up with every last drop, and you’re going to take it all. You’re going to take my seed and you’re going to come so fucking hard that the stars behind your eyelids are going to be brighter than any in the night sky,” he exclaims, chest heaving, arms flexing, eyes blazing.

“Fill me up, Dalton. Make me come,” I growl, so close to free-falling. His words like fuel to the fire building inside of me, making my whole body clench in anticipation.

Dalton smiles wickedly and removes his hand from between my legs, replacing them with his cum-soaked fingers and plunging them inside of me. I gasp as he works them in and out with fervour. I writhe beneath him as he scoops up morecum and coats his fingers with the sticky liquid once again, alternating his fingers, making sure I take every last drop.

“Take what I give you,” he says, his voice pitched in lust, his expression twisted with desire and dominance.

“Yes, Dalton. Yes!” I cry, trying to hold on to reality as my body trembles with the intensity of my impending climax.

“Call me yourhusband, wife,” he commands.

“Fuck me with your cum, husband,” I cry out, my orgasm barrelling out of nowhere, a cascade of bright white stars bursting behind my closed eyelids as I come.

My orgasm is intense. Powerful, and I feel it unravel deep inside as my internal muscles clench around his fingers, drawing his sperm deep into my womb.

“That’s it,” he soothes, as tears trickle from my eyes. “Take everything I have to give. Take it all.”

I’m not crying because I’m sad. I’m crying because I’m so overwhelmed, so overtaken by lust and desire, connection and pure animal need. It’s all that I’ve ever wanted.

I’m a mess of emotions, of rawness, as my orgasm ebbs away, leaving me satiated, depleted, and thoroughly and blissfully content as he drapes himself over me, his still hard cock pressing against my lower stomach.

“You’re mine…” he says, his voice thick, and as I look up at him, at the almost shocked expression on his face, I know that I am his. That I belong to Dalton Gunn, and that he belongs to me.

“As you are mine,” I whisper back.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

DALTON

The next week of our honeymoon passes in a haze of laughter, conversation, and shared orgasms. Daisy and I spend all of our time together, and not a minute passes without being in each other’s company. We don’t fuck, and it isn’t because I don’t want to, it’s because the next time I bury myself inside of Daisy I want to do it out of love.

Right now I’m still learning, still grappling with my feelings, still trying to unravel years worth of trauma from never having felt love from my parents. All I know for certain is that if I could ever love someone, it would be her. Bottom line is, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to be the man she needs.

“Hey, Dalton, would you like to have dinner out tonight, or stay in?” Daisy asks, interrupting my thoughts as she steps out onto the deck, her hair piled up on top of her head, her body wrapped in a long white towel after taking a shower.

The sun has already slipped past the horizon, and the air seems cooler tonight than it has been since we’ve arrived. In the distance I can hear a rumble of thunder, and the first spots of rain begin to hit the deck in huge, fat droplets.

“I guess we’re staying in tonight,” I say, pushing back my chair and taking Daisy’s hand in mine, leading her inside. “Looks like a storm’s coming in.”

“We can call for room service, or if you’d like I can throw something together? There’s still plenty of cold cuts in the fridge and fresh fruit. I’m not all that hungry anyway, my stomach is a little bloated from all the overindulging,” she says with a soft laugh.

“Or maybe it’s the baby I’ve put inside of you,” I joke, knowing it’s a real possibility. She laughs, her eyes softening at the thought as her hand absentmindedly rubs her belly. “You really want this child, don’t you?”

“You don’t?” she asks, leaning against the kitchen island as she regards me.

“I want to make you happy…” My voice trails off as I consider her question.

“But?” She winces a little, and I hate seeing her expression change to one of uncertainty.

“No buts. I want to make you happy. I like the idea of you growing our child inside of you,” I admit. “I also happen to like all the occasions we’ve been practising to make that happen these past few weeks.”

“Me too,” she agrees with a soft whisper.

“Want to try some more?” I offer, stepping towards her, my fingers trailing over the bare skin of her arm.

She cocks her head to the side, a smile tilting up her lips. “We’ve barely been out of the bedroom this past week. I’m beginning to wonder if you have any sperm left.”

“Believe me, I have plenty.”

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