knew wasn’t the first time, the room was dark. It hadn’t been that way when we’d got in here, surely. Somehow, I was pressed against Daisy’s body, my arm across her breasts and her arm over mine, her hand clasping my own, her other hand curled on the pillow. She was so much smaller than me that the top of her head was tucked under my chin, and I could smell the flower and almond scent of her.
She’d woken up, got out of bed, and wanted to climb back in with me again. And when I’d pulled her close in my sleep, she’d let herself go there. I ached with unreleased arousal in a way I hadn’t since I was a teenager, and I held her tucked back into me, warm and safe, and felt like a man.
She stirred the tiniest bit. A wriggle, then, and she was pushing back a little closer. A soft sigh, a foot running slowly down my calf, and then her leg was on top of mine. Her hand moving mine onto her breast, her fingers stroking over the back of my hand. Her index finger tracing the webs between my fingers. Her round little arse pressed up warm and tight against me, starting to rock just a little.
I was awake now.
It was so dark. She’d pulled the blackout curtain, and I couldn’t see her at all. But bloody hell, could I feel her.
She still wasn’t saying anything. I could feel the beat of her heart under my palm, the same way I’d asked her to feel mine. I stroked my hand over her breast. Slowly. Carefully. And I heard something. Another sigh. And my name. A whisper.
My hand, gliding over smooth skin, delicate curves. Sliding over her midriff, her belly, stroking down her thigh and coming back up again, still slowly, to capture the other breast. And then doing it again. Hearing her breathing getting faster.
When I shifted over and turned her onto her back, she came. I still couldn’t see anything but the barest outline of her body, but I could feel her under my hand. And when I shifted my weight onto an elbow, I could kiss her mouth. So I did.
A hand on a breast, stroking slowly. My tongue in her mouth. My other hand tangling in her soft hair. And then I was moving down her body, bit by bit. Tasting. Testing. What felt good, and what felt better.
When I got my mouth on her nipple, her breathing got faster. She was so sensitive here, and her pretty little breasts just made me happy. I was all the way over her, sucking on one of them, playing with the other, then shifting my focus, and she was panting.
When her thighs came up and wrapped around my upper body, I thought I’d lose it. And this time, when I started to move down her body again, she didn’t stiffen up.
I kissed her navel, sent my tongue there to play, and she moaned. I ran my fingers over her ribs, and she squirmed. I shifted down a little more, got a knee in my hand, shoved it gently over, and kissed the side of it, then kept going up her inner thigh. Soft and slow and easy in the dark, the scent of her in my head, her breath loud in my ears.
When I touched her gently, she squirmed. I cupped my hand over her and squeezed, and she made a noise in the back of her throat. Not quite a moan. I did it again, and then I did it a few more times, until I felt her hips starting to move the tiniest bit. And then I spread her with my fingers, and the noise in the back of her throat got a little louder.
Gentle and slow. Lips and tongue and a strong, slow hand. My thumb drawing down the whole sweet, smooth curve, exploring every fold and hollow, and my mouth around that magic spot.
She wrapped those thighs around my head.
I could hear faint scratching noises. Her hands, scrabbling against the sheet.
I sent a finger slowly up inside her, and her hips rose all the way off the bed.
I finger-fucked her long and slow, and I ate her up the same way. When her thighs clamped my head tighter and her strong inner walls closed around my finger, I pushed another finger in, and she couldn’t be quiet anymore. This time, she had to call out.