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The tears she tried so hard to keep at bay spilled forth until great, wracking sobs left her. She covered her face with her hands and cried as Blake continued to lave attention to the part of her body she had always felt discomfiture over.
“You’re beautiful,” Blake whispered. “You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” His hands took over where his lips had just been. He caressed her in a gentle sweep of his fingers, so soft and smooth that goose bumps formed along her skin. “Every part of you is beautiful.” His hands moved up, and up, until they stopped right below her breasts, the nightshirt barely restraining them. “Look at me.” Poppy let her hands fall away and looked at Blake, who was now mere inches from her face. “I want you to tell me you’re beautiful.” He leaned in the rest of the space and kissed her long and slow. When he broke the kiss, he stayed only inches away again. “Tell me, love.”
Poppy licked her lips, the words getting lodged in her throat. His eyes urged her to continue, to find the strength deep inside her. When was the last time she felt beautiful? When Jon told me right before he died. Now was not the time for this, not when Blake opened up her heart again. Not when she felt something. Finding the courage deep inside her soul, she grabbed for it and didn’t let go.
“I’m beautiful.” The words were barely a whisper from her, but Blake heard her nonetheless and brushed his lips across hers in response.
“Yes, yes, you are, love.” He took her mouth again, and she became lost in the sensations of lips, tongues, and hands. It felt like they kissed for hours, or maybe it was just minutes, but it felt glorious regardless. Mouth swollen from the blood that rushed below the surface, cheeks sensitive from the erotic scrape of his stubble along her skin, and pussy so wet the lining of her panties was unbearably soaked, Poppy drifted away in the hazy fog of aroused delight.
With quick movements and expert hands, Blake had her shirt off and tossed aside. She had only ever been naked in front of one person, had only ever given herself to one man, but the way Blake looked down at her, with not just desire but love and understanding, had the wall she built around her heart after Jon died fading away.
She lifted her arms and ran the pads of her fingers across his bare chest. His body lightly shook beneath her hands, and she knew he was just as affected by this encounter.
“I want you, Blake.” She dropped her hands and gripped the edge of her pajama bottoms. She lifted her hips and dragged them down her legs and off when Blake moved aside. He looked almost stunned, or unsure of her actions, but he didn’t stop her. So she reached for the drawstring of his lounge pants. “Tell me this is right, that you want this too.”
Hands on the strings but not making a move to loosen them, Poppy stared into his eyes. Everything around her stilled as she waited to hear his answer. It was strange how the roles had been reversed. It now seemed Blake was unsure of what was transpiring. He closed his eyes, and his jaw clenched as he dealt with his internal battle. Poppy went to drop her hands, but he anticipated her move and placed his hands atop hers, stilling her movements.
“I want this, so much, Poppy.” He removed her hands and stood. For a moment, she thought he meant to leave her in his too big room, alone and naked, but then he pushed his pants down and crawled back on the bed over her. His big body rested atop hers, pressing her into the mattress and sending a lovely, heavy sensation coursing through her. “I want you so much.” Warm, hard male flesh molded to hers, making the sweet anticipation of release just a reach away.
Blake’s narrow hips fit perfectly in the cradle of hers, and the hard, impossibly thick length of him parted her pussy lips. She was wet, unbelievably so, and his shaft moved against the slickness on its own accord. A guttural groan left him, and he dropped his head to her shoulder at the same time his hips jerked and his cock slid against her again.
“You feel so good, Poppy.” He curled his fingers around her upper arms and pressed his hips into hers again. Over and over, he did this, his length sliding up and down as he rocked against her. The base of his erection bumped her clit on every upstroke, and Poppy had to bite her lip or she would have screamed for him to move harder, faster. “I’ve wanted you for so long, ever since our relationship changed during those conversations years ago.” Another bump to her clit, and she squeezed her eyes shut. So, so close to feeling that explosion she longed for.
