The Undoing of Daisy Edwards (A Time for Scandal) Read Free Page B

that would show weakness, and I couldn’t be weak. That was the point of this. Strength. I was fighting for something. I was fighting for this wild thing inside me. I couldn’t be weak. I reached for Dominic, and I curled my fingers around that satin-smooth length, tightening them just enough so he throbbed in my hand. I could feel him tensing, all of him, tensing, and I felt such a surge of power. I’ve never felt anything like it. It made me want to watch him as I stroked, and watching him made me shiver and tighten inside, too.
    He kept his eyes on me, my face, then my hand, and then my face again. His eyes were glittering, his expression strained, but still he watched me, and I could see him struggling for control with each slow slide of my hand up and down his cock. Just thinking that word, Daisy would have blushed. Actually, Daisy wouldn’t have thought that word. But when I thought it now, it made me heat, but not because I was blushing. Because I was thinking of him inside me, sliding in and out.
    And I think he saw that, or maybe he couldn’t take any more, or maybe he was thinking like me, that this was a battle, because he rolled me onto my back again and his kiss was savage. I kissed him back like a savage, too. Then he worked his way down my body as I had his, kissing my throat, my breasts, licking and sucking huge waves of pleasure from my nipples down low to my belly and lower. Then down. He pulled my hand-stitched underwear from me as if it was nothing. I was lying there in just my stockings. He was between my legs, looking down at me, chest heaving. Then he smiled. Not a happy smile, but—I don’t know how to describe it, but I felt that smile reflected in mine, and he slid his fingers inside me, just as I’d imagined, watching me just as I’d watched him, and I curled tight inside with the effort not to let go. He stroked me slowly. Watching. We were both watching. I’d never watched before. Never wanted to be watched in this kind of secret moment. But there was something about the image of the two of us, not quite joined, my pale skin against his olive-coloured, and something about the way he touched me, watched me, that made me want to rip at him, to push myself at him, to have him deeper, to dig my fingers into him, not to hurt, but close to that.
    It caught me by surprise. I couldn’t stop it then. The tensing, clutching. I tried to hold on. I struggled, but he wouldn’t let me, and then I didn’t want to hold on, all I wanted was for him to be inside me. He sensed it. Saw it. Heard it. I grabbed and clutched, and he pulled me against him, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he slid into me, hard and high, and dear God, but it was—it was like nothing. Everything.
    I was already coming. I was shouting. ‘Harder. Again. Harder.’ I didn’t know what I meant. I just wanted, wanted, wanted. I couldn’t remember the last time I had wanted. It was so good just to want. And then it took me, as he pounded into me, and I grabbed onto the headboard and arched up so that he thrust higher, and I cried out over and over, over and over, barely conscious of him coming, pulling himself away from me just in time, and it was only then that I thought we should have used a preservative, but honestly, I didn’t care, not then. All I cared about was the tidal wave that caught me, wrenched me, turned me inside out, and cast me up, panting, under the hot, hard body of a man who was a total stranger.

Chapter Three
    Dominic
    She didn’t stay. I was glad at the time. I dimly remembered from before that afterwards was a time for holding, for tenderness, for gentle words and quiet murmurings. Honestly, I could barely imagine such things, let alone act them out. She probably could have—acted, if not remembered—but she didn’t want to. She was out of my bed as soon as it was over, pulling on that dress, refusing to catch my eye, and that suited me just fine. I gave her a coat. She wouldn’t let me