Chapter 84 84
DAISY POV
I kept my eyes shut tight, but it didn’t help. The image of Diesel was burned behind my eyelids. I could still feel the way the air in the room shifted when he looked at me earlier — heavy, electric, dangerous. It wasn’t just that he was big and muscled. It was the way he carried himself, like he owned every shadow in this room, every breath I took.
When he told me to get in bed, my heart slammed against my ribs. I knew he meant sleep. But my traitor mind had gone straight to the way his jeans had strained against his thick thighs, the obvious bulge I tried so hard not to stare at.
I reached down and touched my chest. My nipples were already hard, poking against the thin fabric of his shirt like they were begging for attention. Just the thought of his heavy weight pressing me into the mattress made my breath hitch. I slid my hand lower, past my stomach, until my fingers slipped under the waistband of my panties.
I was soaked.
The slick heat between my legs made me bite my lip hard. I was a virgin — I had never even let a boy kiss me properly — yet here I was, dripping just from thinking about him. How the fuck was I like this? Two years of running and hiding, and one night with this dangerous man had turned me into someone I barely recognized. Someone aching and shameless.
I pressed two fingers against my clit and gasped quietly into the pillow. The pleasure was instant and sharp. I imagined Diesel walking over, stopping being the protector for once, and just being the man who looked at me like he wanted to devour me whole. I pictured his rough hands spreading my thighs, his thick cock pushing into me, filling the empty ache that suddenly felt unbearable.
My fingers moved faster. Small, wet sounds filled the quiet room, but I couldn’t stop. I arched my back, hips rolling into my own touch. In my head it was him — his mouth on my neck, his growl vibrating against my skin, his body pinning me down while he took what he wanted.
I wasn’t thinking about the bounty or the men who wanted me dead.
All I could think about was Diesel. The way he looked when he was angry. The way his eyes darkened when he stared at me in nothing but a towel. I wanted that intensity turned on me. I wanted him to see that I wasn’t just a fragile girl he had to save. I was a woman losing her mind wanting him.
The tension coiled tighter and tighter in my belly. My breathing turned ragged. I pressed my face harder into the pillow, teeth sinking into my lip to keep from moaning out loud. My fingers circled faster, slick and desperate, chasing that edge.
“You’re making it hard for me to be here.”
Diesel’s low, rough voice cut through the darkness , while my heart almost cut.
I froze.
My fingers stilled between my legs, but it was too late. The pleasure was already cresting. My body betrayed me completely.
I quickly need to say something — anything — to explain, to apologize, to disappear.
But —
Instead, a broken moan tore from my throat the second I opened my mouth.
“Ahh—!”
The sound was soft but unmistakable. Needy. Desperate.
The room went dead silent except for my ragged breathing.
I could feel Diesel’s eyes on me even in the dark. The weight of his stare pressed down on my skin like a physical touch. My hand was still trapped between my thighs, fingers slick with how wet I was, and I didn’t know whether to pull it away or keep going.
Heat flooded my entire body — embarrassment, shame, and something far darker that made me throb even harder.
Diesel didn’t speak again right away.
The moan hung in the air
I wanted to die, like I wished for death..
My fingers were still pressed between my slick folds, frozen mid-stroke, my body trembling on the edge of release. The embarrassment burned so hot I felt it in my scalp. I was a virgin. I had never touched myself thinking about a real man before, let alone let anyone hear me. And now Diesel — the man who had just promised to stay because I asked — had heard everything.
I tried to yank my hand out of my panties, but my limbs wouldn’t cooperate. My thighs stayed clenched around my wrist like they had a mind of their own.
Diesel’s breathing had changed. It was no longer steady. It was deeper. Rougher. Like a predator who had just caught the scent of prey.
The couch creaked as he stood up.
Heavy boots hit the floor once, twice. Then he was moving toward the bed — slow, deliberate steps that made my heart slam against my ribs. The mattress dipped under his weight when he sat on the edge, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his massive body.
I couldn’t look at him. My face was buried in the pillow, and I squeezed shut my eyes so tight as if that would help, his oversized shirt twisted around my waist.
“Daisy.” His voice was low, gravelly, and dangerous. “Look at me.”
I shook my head, a tiny, humiliated movement.
A rough hand slid under my chin, gentle but firm, tilting my face up. I had no choice but to open my eyes.
Diesel eyes stared down at me, dark and hungry. His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle ticked. He looked like he was fighting every instinct he had.
“You were touching yourself,” he said, the words rough and slow, like each one cost him something. “Thinking about me.”
It wasn’t a question.
Heat flooded my cheeks again. I tried to speak, but all that came out was another small, mortified sound — half whimper, half moan.
Diesel’s thumb brushed my lower lip, wiping away the wetness from where I’d bitten it. His gaze dropped to where my hand was still trapped between my thighs, then back to my face.
“Take your hand out,” he ordered quietly.