Page 104 of Daisy

"Princess," I warn, but my hands are already moving to cup her face.

"Please, Hawk." Her voice drops to a whisper. "Show me what it feels like to be reckless."

So I do.

The first touch of her lips against mine is soft, tentative. But when I don't pull away, when I let her feel how much I want this, she deepens it with a hunger that nearly brings me to my knees. Her tongue sweeps across my lower lip, and I open for her with a groan that comes from somewhere deep in my chest.

She tastes like everything I've been dreaming about. Sweet and warm and perfectly her. When she makes a small sound into my mouth—half gasp, half moan—my control finally snaps.

I spin us around, pressing her back against the nearest tree, my body caging her in. She gasps at the sudden movement, but it's not fear in her scent. It's pure arousal, thick and sharp and so fucking perfect it makes my vision blur.

"This what you want?" I growl against her throat, my voice gone rough with need. I press my hips forward, letting her feel exactly how hard I am, how much I want her. My cock throbs against her belly, and when she arches into the contact I nearly lose my mind. "Want me to stop being careful with you?"

"Yes," she breathes, her head falling back against the bark, exposing the long line of her throat. Her pulse pounds visibly under her skin, and I want to mark her there, want to sink my teeth in and claim her properly. "God, yes."

I capture her mouth again, harder this time. Less careful. She meets me kiss for kiss, her nails digging into my shoulders hard enough to leave marks, her body arching against mine like she can't get close enough. The hoodie rides up as I explore her waist, her ribs, and when my thumb brushes just under her breast she makes a sound that goes straight to my cock.

"Hawk," she gasps when I break away to mouth at her throat, and my name on her lips sounds like a prayer. "Please."

"Please what, princess?" I nip at her pulse point, and she shudders against me.

"Touch me. I need—" The word breaks off in a moan as I slip my hand under the soft cotton of Gunner's hoodie to cup her breast. Her nipple is already hard, begging for attention, and when I roll it between my fingers she makes a sound that nearly has me coming in my jeans.

"So responsive," I murmur against her neck, breathing in her scent. It's changed again, gone richer and deeper, with an undertone that makes my alpha instincts sit up and roar to life. "So perfect."

My hand slides down, tracing over her ribs, her waist, until I reach the waistband of her leggings. I pause there, waiting for permission, and she nods frantically.

"Please," she breathes. "I need you to touch me. I need you so badly."

I slip my hand inside, under the elastic of her panties, and the first touch of her slick heat nearly brings me to my knees. She's absolutely drenched, her pussy lips swollen and slippery with arousal, and when I find her clit she cries out so loud I have to capture the sound with my mouth.

"Fuck, princess," I growl against her lips, circling that sensitive bundle of nerves with deliberate pressure. "You're soaking wet for me. Shit, I can feel how much you need this."

She whimpers, her hips bucking against my hand desperately, chasing more contact. "Hawk, please, I need more."

I give it to her, sliding one thick finger through her slick folds before pushing inside her tight channel. She's so small, so incredibly tight, her inner walls gripping my finger like a vice. The feeling makes my cock throb painfully against my jeans.

"God, you're tight," I groan, slowly working my finger in and out while my thumb circles her swollen clit. "So fucking perfect, princess."

"More," she gasps, rolling her hips against my hand. "I can take more, please."

I add a second finger, stretching her carefully, and she throws her head back with a broken moan. Her slick coats my fingers, making obscene wet sounds as I work her open. When I curve my fingers just right, finding that spot deep inside where my knot will lock us, it makes her legs shake, she nearly sobs with pleasure.

"Right there!" she cries out. "Oh god, Hawk, right there!"

"That's it," I murmur, working that spot with steady pressure while my thumb works her clit in tight circles. "Let me make you feel good, princess. God, look at you falling apart for me."

The possessive words make her clench around my fingers, and I can smell her heat spiking even higher. She's close, teetering on the edge, and I want to push her over.

Her scent blooms even stronger, and something shifts in it. Something that makes every primitive part of my brain light up like a Christmas tree. I pull back to look at her face, and my breath catches.

Her pupils are blown wide, her cheeks flushed. But it's more than arousal. There's something different about her scent. Deeper. More complex.

Like those suppressants are finally giving up the fight.

"Princess," I say slowly, even as I continue to work her with my fingers, "when did you last take your pills?"

"This morning," she says, but there's uncertainty in her voice. She gasps as I hit that spot again.