Page 27 of Vandal Unbound

Daisy looks up at me, and it’s hard to read her emotions. Part of it is because the world is still blurry around the edges. But I can’t tell if it’s longing or concern.

“I have to go, but…” Daisy pauses. “Listen. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me, and maybe I’m interfering in something I should keep my nose right out of. But this—” She gestures up and down. “It doesn’t seem like it fits with who you are. And you seem like a good guy, Vandal.”

Not a single word of response comes to mind.

She’s not telling me anything I don’t know. But, fuck. Those words coming from her lips. I hate the idea she sees me with pity.

I still can’t think of anything to say when she walks around me to grab the drinks.

In fact, I stand there, staring at a poster advertising two-for-one margaritas on Wednesdays, unable to fucking function.

A hand on my shoulder makes me jump.

“You okay?” Havoc asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t need people asking me if I’m okay the whole time.” The words are spat out with more anger than Havoc deserves.

And thenhelooks at me with pity…sympathy if I’m being generous.

“I’m going.”

Havoc grabs me by the bicep. “What the fuck is going on with you? Just come and sit. Finish your drink. Get another. I don’t fucking care. But I’d rather you come hang out with us and try to get back to who the fuck you are than go back to your room and try self-medicating this shit out of your system.”

It doesn’t seem like it fits with who you are. And you seem like a good guy, Vandal.

I shake my head. “Enjoy your food, but I’m out.”

I march out of the bar, slamming the double doors wide open as I walk through them. There’s no plan beyond finding fresh air. Can’t even bring myself to call for a prospect, so I start walking.

And maybe on the way I’ll grab another couple of bottles of Jack so people stop tracking how much I’m drinking.

Maybe I’ll finally find a way to disappear.

9

DAISY

Two days later, the buzz of my little pocket-sized vibrator is an audible reminder that I am terrible at keeping my word. Because not wanting a fixer-upper of a man is way harder to put into action than I thought.

A glance at the clock on my phone tells me I have to leave to collect Elsie in ten minutes but given how good the vibration pressed up against my clit feels, it won’t take more than five.

I close my eyes and press my head back against my pillow, trying to block out the images of me and Vandal from my brain. But they’re so hot, it’s impossible. I’m chained to hooks in the ceiling, hands overhead, wearing nothing but a red bra, while Vandal holds me by my ass cheeks, my legs around his hips, as he rails me.

Who could possibly look away from that?

“There’s my brave girl,” he says between grunts. “I knew you could take it for me.”

I’m outside my body, hovering around the scene rather than in it. I shift my perspective so I can see the way his cock thrusts deep inside me while I stretch to almost tearing to accommodate him.

“Mmm,” he mutters, pressing his lips to my neck. “Just what I needed. Your pussy squeezing my cock. You feel that, Daisy?”

“Do I ever?” I mutter out loud in my bedroom as my hips twitch and the duration I can leave my vibrator over my clit shortens in length.

I don’t want to come yet. But I roll over, face down in the pillow as I shift to hump my vibrator. “God,” I mutter.

In my fantasy, we’re in some kind of cellar. There’s a chair. Handcuffs. I’ve always dreamed in vibrant kink, even if my life has never quite delivered. But I’ve always been able to rely on my imagination.

“Ah, can’t fucking hold back,” Vandals says, and there’s pleasure written in his eyes. His jaw is slack, his breath fast. “It’s too good. You’re gonna make me come. Ah, fuck, Daisy, here it comes.”