Page 86 of The Rogue and His Flower

With rapt attention, I take in every curve of her body, marvelling over her creamy skin scattered with freckles, and the globes of her breasts just breaking the surface of the water. Her dusky pink nipples are hardened into points and begging to besucked and licked. It takes every ounce of self-restraint not to do exactly that.

I find my own lips parting on a soft exhale of breath as my mind races with thoughts of what I should do. I mean, I know what Ishoulddo, and that’s walk the fuck away, but I’m so consumed with desire that I can’t. I fucking can’t. So I stand there, an intruder on her most private moment, getting more and more aroused as the seconds tick by.

“Touch me,” she whispers, and for a second I think she’s talking to me, aware that I’m in the bathroom with her, but she doesn’t open her eyes, lost to whatever fantasy she’s imagining. “Make me come.”

Jesus fuck.

As if on its own accord, my hand falls to my aching dick as I grip myself tightly. It’s been so long since I’ve been with a woman that if I stay for much longer I know I’ll come from just watching Daisy pleasure herself. Yet, I can’t seem to move. Enraptured, I imagine it’s my hand between her legs, and my fingers exploring the soft folds of her pussy as I stroke my cock over the material of my trousers.

Yes, I made her come on the back of my motorbike. Yes, it was fucking thrilling knowing she let down her guard long enough to enjoy the pleasure even if it wasn’t strictly by my hand, but fuck this is different, this is a thousand times more intimate. I’m fully aware that I’m crossing a million boundaries right now, but selfishness and overwhelming attraction overrides common sense.

“That feels so good,” she continues, lost to her fantasy, and I feel a sharp stab of jealousy at this imaginary person she’s thinking about. Still I remain where I am, my breath catching in my throat as I watch Daisy’s face contort with pleasure, her soft moans echoing through the steam-filled bathroom.

A bead of sweat trickles down my forehead as I struggle to contain the impulse to reach out and touch her, to coast my fingers over her pebbled nipples, to replace her hand with mine and bring her to orgasm. And as Daisy’s moans grow louder, I step closer, my heart racing as she fingers herself, this primal urge to witness her undoing an addiction that I’m helpless to fight against. With a heaving chest, my gaze falls to her hand as her fingers swirl and tease her clit. Mesmerised, I fail to notice that the catch in her breath is anything other than her mounting desire until it’s too late.

“W-what are you doing here?”

My gaze snaps to hers, my eyes widening as I fumble for words. “I heard you moaning. I thought you were having a nightmare,” I say, realising how fucking ludicrous that sounds. “I just… Fuck, I’ll go.”

Daisy bites on her lip, her cheeks heating as her fingers slip from her pussy and she draws upright in the bath, trying to cover herself as water trickles over her skin. I watch the droplets fall, feeling a sudden jealousy at the way they get to glide over all the places I want to touch.

“Dalton, this is…”

“Wrong. So fucking wrong.”

She sucks in a breath, her gaze dropping to my dick that’s spectacularly tenting my trousers. “You’re turned on,” she whispers, flicking her gaze back up to my face.

“Beyond measure,” I reply, wondering why she’s isn’t telling me to get the fuck out.

She swallows hard, her gaze fixed on mine, and for long moments we just stare at one another until eventually she unfolds her arms from across her chest and slowly sinks back beneath the water.

“Daisy, what are you doing?” I ask, my voice hoarse, thick with need as she rolls her head to face me, strands of her hairsticking to her neck and chest, the rest fanning out in the water around her.

“I’m trying to figure that out myself,” she admits, her chest heaving as she bares herself to me.

“I should go.”

“I…” she falters.

“What, Daisy?”

“I don’t want you too,” she whispers.

“Why?” I choke out.

“Because I don’t think anyone has ever looked at me the way you are at this very moment,” she admits. “It feels…good.”

“Jesus, Daisy,” I reply, running a shaky hand through my hair. “You have to understand, my self-control is paper thin.”

“What will happen if you lose control, Dalton?” she asks me, her fingers gently swirling the water as she waits for me to answer. There is nothing in her gaze but raw vulnerability, and I’m floored by it as she willingly bares herself to me.

I grit my jaw, pressing my eyes shut briefly, if only to give myself a moment to gather every last shred of self-control I can muster. “I refuse to let you find out.”

She nods, giving me a wavering smile. “It’s for the best, I guess.”

“Daisy…” I plead, fighting with myself as I wobble on my feet, my whole body trembling in my need to go to her. I can’t decipher how much of this is my addiction to the female form, my growing connection with Daisy or just pure animal need.

“You had no reservations making me come on the back of your motorbike,” she counters, spearing me with her gaze. Daring me to object.

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