“It’s from the opera Madama Butterfly.”
“You like opera?”
“Yes. You don’t?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I’ve never really listened to it.”
“Have you ever been to an opera?”
She shakes her head.
“That’s…sad, Daisy. Everyone should experience going to the opera at least once in their life.”
“Flynn Winslow likes opera. Wow. That is…quite the revelation.”
“That surprises you?”
“Uh…yeah,” she answers through a giggle. “But then again, I’m finding you’re full of surprises. I mean, I never would’ve pegged you as a guy who went to culinary school.”
Her exaggeration makes me chuckle. “A few cooking classes, babe. Not culinary school.”
She just grins. “A motorcycle-riding, leather-jacket–wearing chef who loves opera music. You are an enigma.”
“As are you, Daisy,” I answer and reach out to tuck a few of her curls behind her ears.
“Oh, I’m not that interesting.”
I strongly disagree. She’s the most interesting woman I’ve ever met.
My hand trails down her bare arm, across her bare belly, and I don’t miss the way goose bumps cover her arms when the music playing in the background reaches a climax that almost always gives everyone the same reaction.
“This song is…powerful,” she says, her voice quiet as she listens intently.
“That’s opera.”
She looks at me quizzically, and when my eyes flit down to her bare breasts and belly, I get an idea. A brilliant fucking idea that is one-hundred-percent selfish on my part.
“Would you like to play a game, Daisy?”
“What kind of game?”
“A game that will show you just how powerful opera music can be.”
She quirks a brow but then shrugs. “Okay, sure.”
Fuck yes.
Carefully, I take the cup of coffee out of her hands and set it on the nightstand. She pouts, of course, but I just shake my head and gently ease her back down onto the bed. “This won’t take long. And stay right here. I’ll be back.”
Out of the bedroom and into the living room, I grab a pair of noise-canceling headphones and the remote for my speakers.
Once I’m back in the bedroom, I climb onto the bed and position myself right between, thanks to my devious hands, her now-spread thighs.
Her mouth forms a little “O” of surprise when she realizes the intimacy of our position. “Is this game a sexy kind of game?”
I nod. Her eyes light up.
“I’m going to show you that opera music is so powerful, you are going to have the most intense orgasm of your life. And it’s only going to take about three minutes.”
She laughs. Outright. “Three minutes?”
I nod again. “Yeah, babe. Three minutes and you’re going to be seeing fucking stars.”
I don’t wait for her response. Instead, I gently place the headphones over her ears and help her relax back into the mattress.
She keeps looking at me skeptically, but it only makes me smile. Because I know in just a few minutes, she’s going to feel the kind of pleasure that’ll make her think she’s having an out-of-body experience.
From my phone, I choose the one song that will seal her pleasurable fate—“Nessun Dorma.”
Sung by Luciano Pavarotti, the one and only man who could sing it to perfection.
I know this piece like the back of my hand, and once I hit play and the music is flooding into Daisy’s ears, I engage in my selfish desires of putting my mouth on her.
Without preamble or hesitation, I bury my face between her thighs and lap and lick my tongue against her. She’s sweet like honey, and every time her hips jolt forward from the sensation of my mouth, it makes my cock grow harder by an inch.
Fuck, this is heaven.
I wish I could stay here all fucking day, licking and sucking and feasting on her. But I’m on a time limit, and I know, very soon, the orchestra and Pavarotti are going to start hitting the notes that will spur the most powerful orgasm Daisy has ever experienced and wring her fucking dry.
My mouth wrapped around her clit, I suck, flick my tongue, and suck and suck and suck until her body starts to vibrate beneath me. Her moans grow louder by the second, and when her hands go to my hair, gripping the strands so tight it makes my damn skull hurt, I know she’s there.
Fuck yes.
Incomprehensible shouts escape her parted lips as her climax consumes her.
Tears stream down her cheeks, and her body shakes and trembles beneath me, and I never stop eating and sucking at her. I ride out her orgasm right along with her, and I don’t stop working my mouth against her until I feel her body go lax.
My chin resting on her belly now, I stare up at her as her breasts heave up and down with panting breaths.
“Holy shit,” she mutters. “Holy fucking shit.”
With shaky hands, she takes off her headphones and looks down at me in shock. “What was that? What just happened to me?”
“That’s opera, baby.”
She snorts. Giggles. Shakes her head. “That was insane. I felt…like I was in my body but not in my body. Hell, I don’t think I’ll be able to walk anytime soon.”
I grin.
“But you know what I can do?”
“What?”
She doesn’t respond, but a mischievous smile kisses her mouth as she sits up and crawls down toward me. Her fingers are on my boxers, pulling them down before I know it, and my cock pops free of the cotton constraints, still hard from watching Daisy come.
“What are you doing, babe?”
“I need to make you feel good, Flynn.”
She needs. She fucking needs.
Daisy leans forward and puts her mouth on me. Slow and teasing at first, she wraps her lips around my cock and begins to gently suck at my length.
Well, fuck. It feels good. Too good. And watching the way she greedily takes me into her mouth makes it even better.
I watch the way her eyes fall closed, as if it’s giving her actual pleasure to do this to me. I feel her warm breath against me as small moans escape her throat. And I don’t miss the covetous way her hands grab at my thighs and abdomen and chest.
Daisy is a fucking goddess. A woman who surprises me at every turn. A woman who gives me the kind of pleasure I’ve never experienced before.
You could spend forever having weekends like this with her, and it still wouldn’t feel like enough.
Friday, May 17th
Daisy
“Good morning, Daisy,” a smiling, happy woman in a pair of medical scrubs with cute kittens all over the material greets me as I step into an exam room. “I’m Susan. I’ll be the nurse who’ll be helping Dr. Fields do your physical today.”
She glances at her clipboard. “I have a note here that this physical is for immigration requirements, correct?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Okay, great. I’ll make sure Dr. Fields has the forms she needs to file with USCIS.” She gestures with one arm toward the lone, white-paper–covered exam table in the room. “You can go ahead and take a seat.”
I follow her instructions, and the paper beneath my skirt-covered butt rustles and crinkles as I adjust my hips and cross my legs.