That final push must unlock something in her. She lets out a sharp cry, although she clamps her hand over her mouth to muffle it, writhing underneath me like a mermaid caught in a net. She jerks my hair sharply as the orgasm overtakes her. I soothe her with laps and licks and kisses. I rest my chin on her thigh, admiring how thoroughly she’s been taken apart. Her belly rises and falls as she catches her breath. She’s pink from her cheeks all the way down to the valley between her breasts. A stripe of sunlight illuminates one brilliant blue eye, while the other is cast in shadow. Her perfect bow of a mouth is quivering. She looks startled, almost accusatory. My stomach’s knotted up tight, every inch of my body aching to sink into her heat. Still, I force myself to wait for her reaction.
“That was...” Her voice fades.
I smile at her lazily. “I warned you.”
“No man has ever wanted to spend that much time between my legs.” She flings that out like an arrow.
“All night wouldn’t be enough. All week. All year.” She flushes, turning her head to the side. Her golden hair falls over her face. “Why’d you cover your mouth, pretty girl?”
I wasn’t expecting this hesitation, this quiet. It’s so un-Poppy-like. Not long ago, she was ready to hook up with a random townie at a bar. She’s brash, confident, and headstrong. And yet in bed, it’s like a switch flicks, and she curls in on herself. It’s not that I mind the submissiveness—in fact, I love it—but I can sense her holding back. She’s keeping too much inside, cracking but not breaking. Letting me have my way, but not allowing herself to fully enjoy it.
“Take me,” she says instead. She half sits up, reaching for my cock and giving it a slow stroke. I groan, enjoying her explorations. She’s a quick study, noticing what I like and repeating it with more pressure. Fluid beads at the tip, and she licks it as gently as she did the tasting spoon.
My breath stutters in my chest. “Sweetheart.”
In response, she takes me a little deeper. I sink into the sensation, eyes falling shut. She hums around me, her fingers working up my length to massage my sac.
As tempting as her mouth is, I can’t let another moment pass without feeling her deep. I know if I’m face-to-face with her, I’ll be hard pressed not to kiss her, to plunder her mouth with each thrust, so I turn her over, instead, my hand firm on her back to hold her in place. She gives a little gasp of surprise, looking over her shoulder at me.
I palm the warm curve of her bottom. At the barest pressure of my knee, she spreads her legs wider, arching her back beautifully.
My breath is ragged. I squeeze myself tightly, so I don’t spill too soon. “Wait here while I get a condom.”
A hitched moan is her only reply.
She’s exactly where I left her when I return. The rush of possessiveness I feel should terrify me, but I ignore it in favor of basking in its glow. She shivers as I trail my fingertips down her spine, noting each notch and dip. I kiss them before easing into her like I would a hot bath. She’s tight, but slick, and each slide sends us reeling in a fresh wave of pleasure.
“What a good girl,” I whisper against her delicate ear. I bite the lobe, sucking on her pearl stud earring. She shudders beneath me. I thrust shallowly. “You like being told what to do, Poppy?”
“Jack.” She moans, low in her throat, as I spread her folds, rubbing her clit with my calloused fingertips. “Don’t tease.”
“Not teasing.” I move with more purpose. She’s clenched around me like a vise. “You’re a quiet little thing like this, you know that? Why? It doesn’t add up.”
Several more thrusts, as deep as I can press, my groin flush with her delectable bottom. When I pinch her, she finally reaches back, her nails digging into my tattooed forearm. I groan, low in my throat. Forget kissing; I need to see her eyes.
She huffs as I flip her, indignation flaring over her face. “You’re manhandling me.”
I gather her wrists together and hold them over her head, tightly enough she’d have to work to free herself. I ease into her again; a slow, painful glide that takes a considerable amount of my rapidly fraying self-control. Despite the pinch of her eyebrows, she digs her heels against my lower back, drawing me ever closer.
“You love it,” I murmur. Her eyes hold a kaleidoscope of blue. Sky blue and navy and cobalt and robin’s egg and everything in between. “You should be chanting my name right now.”
“Someone’s confident.”
“You’re clenched around me like a steel trap, darling.” I let the words wash over her lips, so near to a kiss, yet so far. “And yet you’re holding back. Tell me why.”
“Seriously?” she blurts. “That’s not fair.”
I stop mid-thrust. “What’s not fair?”
She worries her lip, shaking her head. “Never mind.”
“Never mind what?”
“Just keep going.” Her heel grinds against my spine, egging me on.
“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
She pulls her hands away from my grasp. “You can’t ask those kinds of things of me and still keep secrets.”
