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My new obsession—possibly addiction—is the feel of Poppy. So I’m lying here with her sprawled over my chest—because I’ve rearranged her every time she’s moved away from me and put her back where she belongs—staring at the clock, wondering how long it’s going to be before she wakes up. And whether or not I can reasonably ask for more sex.
It’s nine thirty. I have no idea when her alarm is supposed to go off, or what time her first appointment is. She just said afternoon. Anxiety twists my stomach when I consider the possibility that this isn’t going to happen again with her, that this night is an isolated event, like most of my sexual exploits. Unlike most of my sexual exploits, this time I want it to keep happening. I want desperately to keep her in this bed. I want her hands on me. I want to be inside her. This is a familiar kind of want—but usually I associate it with things that are bad for me.
Poppy doesn’t feel bad for me. She feels good. Which is why I’m almost positive I’m not going to get to hang on to any of this.
I wrap my arm around her and pull her closer. I don’t know why I can handle her touching me when I’ve never been able to handle anyone before. It’s like she connects to some part of me I didn’t know was there. Her lips are parted, her breathing slow and even. Freckles dot the bridge of her nose. Her hair is damp and curling where her face is pressed against my skin. Poppy’s hair is so screwed—a total tangled mess.
I’m so addicted to her, and I’ve only been inside her a handful of times. I close my eyes and try to go back to sleep, but my head is full of worry.
An hour later, her alarm goes off. She pushes her face into the side of my neck. Normally I’d cringe away from that kind of closeness, but I can’t get enough of it with Poppy. She mumbles something, but I don’t catch it.
“What was that?”
“No morning.” She crawls over my chest, slapping at the buttons on her alarm.
“I could’ve helped you with that.”
She says something else into the pillow. She’s draped across my body, her perfect, round yoga ass right there, asking to be squeezed.
She wiggles like she’s trying to move and groans.
“Everything okay?” I push her hair back from her face and she turns her head, one eye blinking at me.
“So sore.” She struggles to climb back over my body, so I help put her back where she was. “Muscles hurt that I never knew existed.
“I guess that means no morning sex?” I’m kind of joking, but mostly not.
Her eyes go wide. “Wasn’t that what happened at three in the morning?”
“That was middle of the night sex.”
Poppy eyes the tent in the sheets. She lifts the covers to have a peek. “Wow. You’re serious.”
“I told you I could go all night.”
“I thought that was a bit of an exaggeration meant to feed my ego. Clearly not.”
I kiss her forehead and gather her hand in mine so she drops the covers. “Don’t worry. That’ll disappear eventually.”
She bites her lip and looks up at me. “I have a really great place for it to disappear into.”
It takes me a second to get that she’s being funny. “I thought you were sore.”
“Orgasms are a great analgesic.”
“Is that right?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
I roll over and fit myself between her legs, but she puts her hand over my mouth.
“I refuse to kiss you before you brush your teeth.”
“What about a mint?”
“As long as you have one for each of us.”
I roll off and root around in my pants pocket for the pack of mints. I pop one in her mouth and one into mine. While I suck on it, I kiss her neck, rolling my hips and nestling my cock in the warm and wet between her legs.
I’m out of my condoms, so we have to use the regular ones. It feels like I’m cutting off the circulation to my dick, but I’ll take it if it means I get to hear and see Poppy come for me again.
Afterward we shower, washing away sex and sweat. Poppy dresses in yoga pants and a T-shirt, then makes coffee while she sets out cereal and milk. She eats one bowl, and I eat the rest of the box.
When she takes our empty bowls to the sink to rinse them, I get panicky over my time with her coming to an end. We don’t have another date set up yet, and this week is going to be busy. I’ll be away starting Wednesday for a couple days. I don’t want to wait until I get back to see her again.
“Can I drive you to work? How many clients do you have? Maybe I can pick you up after if you’re not busy tonight?”
