I arch a brow. My limbs don’t move. He doesn’t get to be bossy here.
Then he pushes off the dresser and makes a move like he’s heading for the door. My arm lifts off the bed and my hand settles against my thigh in record time.
“There,” I say, not quite as calmly as I would have hoped.
“The Daisy I knew was never this shy. She never backed down from a challenge.”
It’s a bald-faced attempt at reverse psychology. He’s trying to manipulate me, but it tips his hand. He’s growing impatient, desperate.
“Is that what this is?” I sound out of breath. “A challenge?”
“Yes.”
My hand slides up my thigh slowly. “But, a challenge for whom?”
When I get close, his jaw tightens. I like it.
“Run a finger up and down.”
My gaze flickers to the door. Window. Him. He’s leaning forward ever so slightly and I wish he couldn’t see how turned on I am. The evidence is sticking to my finger. I do what he tells me because I want to, and because it feels good to touch myself. He’s calling the shots, but I’m the one biting my lip. Rolling my hips. Letting my eyes flutter closed.
“Look at me.”
I do.
“It’s too easy if you close your eyes. You can pretend you’re alone. I want you to know I’m watching.”
I realize then that the cobalt blue sweater is deceiving—no Gap model ever told a girl to finger herself. He should be wearing leather. Chains. A mask.
“Daisy?”
“Yes?”
“Dip your finger inside and tell me how it feels.”
I blush so hard my skin prickles, but my middle finger is already moving, dragging back and forth across my folds until I gently press inside. Lucas’ audible groan spurs me on and I slip my finger in another inch.
I barely hear him reminding me of his order: tell me how it feels.
“Tight,” I say.
My first word undoes him. He steps away from the dresser and I challenge him by dragging my finger out and back in.
“Warm. Wet.”
Three words and Lucas is on me, tugging me until my hips rest on the edge of the bed. He kneels down between my legs and my finger is in his mouth. He licks it clean before releasing it. Then I use that hand to muffle my cries as his head dips down between my thighs. Seeing him there, feeling his breath hit that sensitive skin is sexy on a scale I’ve never come close to before. His hands hold me open for him, biting into my thighs until I bruise. There’s no escaping that first gentle lick. Only a taste, but he wants more.
He kisses the groove at the base of my thigh, the patch of skin just to the left of where I need. He circles the spot and only when my hand is clasped tight over my mouth does he let his tongue run across me. I buck off the bed as he licks higher, swirling his tongue and lapping me up. Lucas Thatcher has never fucked me, but with his mouth, he comes close.
Lightning ripples through me. I want more, I want it all. His mouth kisses its way across the center of my body. I’m all but spread eagle for him, my hands gripping swaths of blanket on either side of my head. It’s the best I can do to root myself down to earth. I feel like I’m falling.
He parts me with one hand and dips back in for more.
“It’s too much,” I cry, squeezing my eyes closed.
He doesn’t agree and he doesn’t let up.
“Too—ah! Lucas! It’s too much!”
When he adds a finger to the mix, I’m a goner. He pumps it in and out of me, working in time with his mouth. I beg him to continue. I’m promising my first born, the practice, every cent to my name if only he won’t stop doing that—right there—with his gloriously long fingers that seem to put out fires I didn’t even know were burning.
When I tug my hands through his hair and he hits the spot, I think, I don’t hate Lucas. I don’t hate Lucas at all. His fingers stay inside me as I start to come and my hips are rolling, pushing me up against his mouth.
My orgasm takes on a life of its own. It breaks records and sets new ones. I fight to stay quiet through it, but if I could, I would be shouting Lucas’ praises at the top of my lungs.
HEY EVERYONE. TURNS OUT LUCAS REALLY KNOWS WHAT HE’S DOING IN BED.
Maybe it’s for the best that I can’t. “Wa-water,” I croak, pointing to the glass on the bedside table.
Lucas laughs as he grabs it then walks into the bathroom. I hear him splashing water on his face and when he returns, I’m still floating on my post-orgasm high. Nothing is wrong, everything is beautiful…are those cartoon birds flying around my room?
I sip the water and hum in appreciation.
Lucas politely tugs my dress down and waits for me to gather my wits. He’s dropping a kiss to my cheek when the door swings open and my mom’s voice fills the room.
“Daisy! Are you feelOHMYGOD—”
She didn’t knock.