Page 17 of Chaining Daisy
God, I can’t believe she said yes to someone else. I want to wring this fucker’s throat.
Who the hell dared to ask my girl out?
Molten rage courses through me and my heart is beating so fast it feels like I might have a heart attack. I can’t be around her any longer. Not without doing something I’ll regret. I release my arm from her back. When she doesn’t climb off me, I gently slide over sideways, out from underneath her body. Daisy simply collapses, limp, on the couch as I stand up.
I charge from the room, the drive to expel this fury overwhelming me. I don’t see where I’m going, not really. My feet move on autopilot until I find myself in the basement, staring at my gym equipment. I have to purge this demon. I have to get rid of this pulsing anger somehow and I can’t keep taking it out on her.
I expected too much from her. We’d established too little. And that little fucker…God, he had the worst timing.
I don’t bother strapping on safety gear. I just drop my suit pants so that I’m in boxers and rip off my collared shirt so that all that’s left is the white tee underneath. Then I move to the punching bag. If I fuck up and break my own wrist—well, then, I deserve it.
Stupid fucking fool.
We should have had a talk this morning.
I shouldn’t have left things simmering. I should have brought them to a boil and made things crystal clear. I should have eaten my girl out until she screamed. Just lifted her up on that kitchen counter and yanked down her jeans and panties … sent her to school soaked, thighs still trembling from an orgasm.
Then the word yes never would have spilled from her gorgeous lips.
I start with some simple jab-cross combos, gradually speeding up until I have a rhythm that matches my furiously pounding heart.
Words my mother said to me decades ago float up to haunt me.
I’d been eight or something when my little brother had screwed up a make-believe battle we were staging in the backyard. I’d freaked out and punched him—gave him a black eye. Mom had pulled me into the dining room, her brown eyes serious and scolding as she’d said, “Gunnar, you have these expectations for people. And sometimes, they’re not realistic. Sometimes people don’t understand what you want. Sometimes, they can’t give you exactly what you want. Your brother isn’t a little robot you can control. He’s his own person.”
I’d thought my mother was an idiot.
But here I am, forty-fucking-two, expecting Daisy to be every fucking thing I want and freaking out because I misread a few happy glances and thought we were on the same page without sitting down and having a conversation … like a goddamned fool.
I’ve been building this up too much. It’s my fault. My fault. Sneaking into her bedroom all those nights only built up all my lust, made me fail to think clearly. I’ve been fantasizing about her so long that when the time came to change fantasy to reality, I choked. I didn’t take that step. I’m too used to sneaking. Subtlety. I’ve come to love that too much over the time I’ve known her because for so long, it’s all I’ve had.
The night is silent, except for the whirr of Darla’s oxygen machine. I stride down the hall in bare feet, thankful for the way the thick carpeting muffles my steps as I go check on her. I push open the very first door at the top of the stairs. She’s asleep in her bedroom, her eyes closed, the moonlight painting her dark hair silver, wan and sunken cheeks made even sharper by the shadows. During the day, Darla plays at being calm and peaceful, though she knows that the clock is her enemy. But at night, her hands cross peacefully over her chest and the lines around her mouth relax. She almost looks like she’s smiling.
Guilt nudges me at the sight of her, tells me that Darla trusts me and I should go to sleep in the master suite down the hall. But I’ve become adept at side-stepping that pesky emotion. It’s minuscule in comparison to the lust that’s racing through my system right now.
I’ve had three surgeries and dozens of consults holding me back. I haven’t been able to have special time with my Daisy all week.
But I will tonight. She won’t know it, but we’re going to have someveryspecial time together.
Already half-stiff at the thought, I carefully pull the door to Darla’s bedroom shut, slowly releasing the knob so that even the click of the latch is nearly silent.
Then I walk to the next room. Daisy’s door is shut but never locked and I sneak in without bothering to close it behind me—in case I need to make a quick escape. My sweet girl isn’t the heaviest sleeper. But that only adds to the thrill for me, to see what I can do without getting caught.
Tonight is a very lucky night—it’s warm and she’s kicked the covers into a little tangle around her creamy legs. Curled on her side, she’s wearing a pink tank top and that ass of hers is clad in a lace-lined pair of silky white panties. Her night-light ensures that I can clearly see the crease between those creamy cheeks.
One day, I’m going to plug you there, little flower,I think as I reach into my sweatpants and pull out my cock. It’s already at half-mast, and when the cool air from her ceiling fan hits it, it just becomes more sensitive.Daddy’s going to buy you a cute little plug and prep your ass. And then he’s going to fuck it.
It doesn’t take much to stroke myself to hardness, not when I haven’t visited Daisy in awhile. The soft skin of her thighs holds my attention and I wonder when the last time she masturbated was.
I stop jerking myself for a minute and walk over to her hamper in the corner, next to the door that leads to her bathroom. Sometimes, I can find drenched panties inside her collection of dirty clothes, and that’s when I know she’s been naughty.
Shuffling through the tank tops and shorts, I find two pairs of panties. One is a disappointing blue pair without any stain on the crotch, but the other is a gold mine. A silky purple thong with a gusset that’s still slightly damp.
I bring it up to my nose and inhale. Fuck. Yes. I love the tangy, forbidden scent of her.
I bring the silk down and use it to rub my cock, imagining that she’s still wearing these panties, that I’m in bed behind her, my dick between her lush thighs, sliding up and down against this purple silk as I try to convince her to let me fuck her.
“Please, let Daddy in. Just for a second, baby.”
