Page 19 of Chaining Daisy
Nerves spiral inside my belly as he strides over to me and I feel my neck heat up.
Is this actually happening? Oh my God, I think it might be.Based on the spanking thing, I’d leaned into playing up the daddy kink we’ve been toying with—taking a calculated risk by putting my nose in the corner.
Waiting for him to come back up was one of the most agonizing things I’ve ever done in my life. I second-guessed myself dozens of times. I cried. I felt guilty. I nearly grabbed my keys and drove off to avoid facing him and this entire scenario.
But I kept dragging my ass back to the corner because I want Gunnar more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. Because I regret blurting out yes to that random guy. Because I clearly hurt Gunnar and I need to atone. This is the only way I can think of that might get through to him.
I was shocked by the spanking thing … and even more surprised to realize how much I liked it.
I need him to know that I want this dynamic andhim. I’ve wanted him for so long, though I’ve tried to tell myself time after time that it’s wrong, but now the need to explore the chemistry between us is like electricity flowing just beneath my skin. I have to know what it can be like between us. I can’t go on wondering.
Even the fact that it’s forbidden turns me on.
The idea of others knowing about us—what they’ll say, how they’ll judge, the disgusted looks we’ll get—that certainly still freaks me out and sets my teeth on edge. But not more than the utter heartbreak I saw in his eyes the moment he read that text.
As Gunnar walks toward me, I feel the air change, the room heat up, and anticipation makes my thighs clench.
Fuck, I’m so glad I stayed here and chose this. It looks like it’s paying off. I think it’s paying off. I hope so. Feathers tickle the insides of my throat and I kind of want to giggle in relief at the break in this tension between us.
When he gets close his presence washes over me before I can even hear his breathing. He’s just so dominant that whenever I’m in his sphere … it’s like entering nuclear territory; it infects my very cells, transforming them. And the sight of Gunnar so sweaty and unkempt, his shirt plastered to his chest, does things to me.
He’s already half undressed, wearing only boxers and a t-shirt, and I’m well … nearly there. He can have me naked in seconds. The idea of Gunnar taking me is so much more satisfying than the discussion at lunch earlier today, when the girls had suggested I give it up just to get it over with.
No. This will be so much better.
Gunnar’s hand comes to rest on my lower back, sending a flush immediately up my system and making my spine stiffen in awareness. I forget to breathe as his voice curls around my ear, low and sultry. “First of all, Daddy needs to say he’s sorry for losing his temper. You made him jealous.”
That admission of jealousy does far more for me than the apology. Yes, those spankingshurt,but the idea that Gunnar Strong flew into a rage because he was fucking jealous—over me—an incandescent glow flares inside my lower belly and all the butterflies in my stomach are drawn toward that light, fluttering down, down, down. I clench my thighs.
“I’m sorry. It was a mistake. I won’t do it again,” I promise breathily.
“Mmmm,” he murmurs, as his palm skates down over my still-bared ass, rubbing lightly over the marks he made. My skin tingles in awareness, slightly sore still but that’s nothing compared to the fact that he’s touching me there. “You’d better not.”
“I won't. I'm yours.”
“Say that again,” he whispers.
“I’m yours.”
His sharp inhale makes me so euphoric that tears come to my eyes.
My hands come up to clutch futilely at the wall as Gunnar gently strokes a fingertip down the crease of my ass. God, how many times have I guiltily dreamed of him touching me like this? I resist the urge to lift up onto my tiptoes and arch my back so that he can see how wet a few words and a simple touch have gotten me. He nearly drove me insane earlier on the couch.
I bite my lower lip hard, teeth digging in.Patience,I tell myself.He’s almost there.
His finger dips to the underside of the curve of my ass and I automatically tense in anticipation. But he doesn’t touch methere. His fingertip never reaches my throbbing sex. It disappears.
I give the tiniest whimper.
He shushes me, breath blowing against the shell of my ear as he slides my panties and then my sleep shorts back up, covering me. A little knot of disappointment tightens in my belly because I’d kind of hoped that he’d throw me down and claim me. But instead, he’s gently turning me, pulling my hands down from the wall and interlocking our fingers.
I stare up at him, panting and dazed, not understanding what he’s doing—if this is rejection or something else.
He raises our linked hands and plants a kiss on each one of my knuckles. Each brush of his lips makes the tension between us build up, crackling like static electricity inside a cloud—the precursor to a lightning bolt.
But the lightning doesn’t come. Gunnar doesn’t step forward and seal our lips together or grab me roughly and pin me to the wall.
He turns, leading me back to the couch. I try not to trip over my own feet as I follow, bewildered.
