Page 71 of Daisy
"I used to dream about having a family," I admit, the words scraping out before I can stop them. "Not just any family. One where I belonged. Where someone chose me instead of me always being the one left behind."
Her dark eyes soften, and something tender passes between us. "That sounds wonderful," she says quietly. "Everyone deserves that."
"What about you?" I ask, my voice rougher than I intend. "What's your secret?"
She's quiet for so long I think she won't answer. When she finally speaks, her voice is barely a whisper. "Sometimes I used to pretend I was someone else. Just a normal girl who could choose what to wear, what to eat, who to talk to." She looks downat her cards. "I'd make up whole stories about this other life where I mattered for more than just what I could provide."
The pain in her voice makes my chest tight. Makes me want to show her exactly how much she matters.
"Have you ever..." I start, then stop. Clear my throat. Try again. "Have you ever wanted something you knew you shouldn't?"
Her breath catches, and when she looks up at me, there's something new in her eyes. Something that makes my cock twitch against my jeans.
"Yes," she whispers, and the word hangs between us like a confession.
"What did you do about it?" My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to.
"I tried not to think about it." Her cheeks flush pink. "But it didn't work very well."
"No," I agree, my gaze dropping to her lips before I can stop myself. "It never does."
Her scent spikes, sweet and sharp, and I can see her breathing getting faster. Her pupils dilate as she stares at me, and fuck, she's perfuming. Right here, right now, because of me.
"Daisy," I start, my voice rough with need.
"Draw four," she says quickly, snapping out of whatever trance we were both in. Her voice is breathless but she forces a small smile, playing the card with shaking fingers. "And the color is green."
Her scent blooms warmer, sweeter. Little traces of happiness mixing with the honeysuckle and vanilla until the air between us feels thick as honey.
We play several more rounds, and I watch her grow bolder with each victory. She teases me when I have to draw cards. Laughs when she catches me with a good move. Every sound she makes goes straight to my cock.
And her scent. Fuck, her scent is getting stronger despite the blockers. Richer. More complex. There's an undertone now that makes my mouth water. Arousal, barely contained. Sweet and musky and so fucking perfect I can barely think straight.
"Your turn," she says, and I realize I've been staring at her mouth.
Shit. "Right."
I play a card without looking at it, too distracted by the way she's breathing. Faster now. Shallower. Like something's building inside her that she doesn't quite understand.
"That's not legal," she says with amusement. "You put blue on red."
Fuck. I can't concentrate. Can't think about anything except how she'd taste. How she'd feel underneath me. How tight she'd be around my cock.
"Sorry." My voice comes out strained. "My mind wandered."
"Where did it wander to?"
The question is innocent, but there's something in her tone. Curiosity. Like she wants to know what I'm thinking about.
You.Always you. How you'd feel beneath me. How you'd sound when I make you come. How you'd look with my cock buried so deep inside you that you forget your own name.
"Nowhere important," I lie.
She studies my face with those intelligent dark eyes, and I wonder if she can read the hunger there. If she knows exactly what I'm thinking about.
"You're tense," she observes quietly. "Your scent changed."
Perceptive little omega. She can read my body like a book.
