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"What's yours?" I asked, seeing the memory start to slip away.
"What's my what?" she asked, pressing a soft kiss to my lips before pushing back to look down at me.
"What's your favorite flower?"
"Oh. Well, sunflowers. Because they are pretty, but you can also eat them. Pretty and useless has never been my thing," she told me, smiling. "We can stop," she declared, shrugging. "I won't be upset," she added.
"I would," I objected, reaching up to grab her, pulling her until her breast was right over my face, then leaning up and sucking her nipple into my mouth.
"Well," she gasped, pressing lower into my mouth. "We can't have you upset," she declared, wiggling her hips against mine, groaning when my cock pressed against her pussy.
Shifting across her chest, I ran my tongue over her other nipple as she writhed against me.
It wasn't long before I was rolling her beneath me, slipping on the protection, and surging inside her.
I had to press my forehead to hers as I sucked in a breath, trying to find some control.
Luckily, Poppy wasn't looking for slow and sweet. Her legs wrapped around my hips, writhing up against me. Her nails dug into my back.
"Finn, harder," she groaned when I started to fuck her, trying to hold back a bit.
I pushed back onto my heels, yanking her legs up straight to rest on my shoulder, fucking her harder and faster as my hand went between her thighs, working her clit, driving her up.
"I'm..."
"Come," I demanded, pressing down on her clit, feeling her walls contract around me as she did, milking my orgasm with her.
"Thank you," she said a moment later, snapping me back to the moment, finding her watching me.
"For?" I asked, releasing her legs back down.
"For taking such a vested interest in my heart health," she said, pressing a hand above her breast.
A laugh bubbled up and burst out, making a smile spread across her pretty face.
"Anytime you want to keep working on it, you just let me know," I said, moving away from her, grabbing my clothes, then heading back to the bathroom.
When I came back, I found she'd managed to slide on her panties, but nothing else, and was still sprawled out on the floor.
"I'd make a pretty hot corpse, right?" she asked, striking a pose.
"Don't say that," I demanded, surprised by the fierceness in my tone. It was hard to keep my mind from imagining that very image. Coming in to find her sprawled on the floor, blood haloed around her.
"Hey," she said, sitting up suddenly, reaching out to grab my leg.
"I don't like that image, Poppy," I told her, shaking my head.
"Sorry. My sense of humor can be decidedly... non-humorous sometimes."
"My imagination can picture ugly things too easily," I admitted.
"Then let's think of pretty things instead," she suggested, reaching up for my hand, letting me pull her onto her feet. As soon as she was, she turned her back on me, looking over her shoulder with a saucy smile. "Like what tattoo you think would look good right here," she said, rubbing her ass. "Don't you think it would be real pretty with a tattoo?" she asked.
"I think it looks real pretty just as it is," I told her, reaching out to give it a squeeze.
"So," she said, turning back around, wrapping her arms around my neck, "what do you think about trying to work on Yogurt's walking anxiety?"
Nothing in the world sounded better.
I think it was right that moment that I first started to realize that my feelings for Poppy were growing. Hard, fast, unstoppable. They were a train without brakes.
And I couldn't help but wonder what might be left in the wreckage when she collided with the truth of my life.
But those were later problems.
I was going to go ahead and stay in the moment.
The moment where Poppy walked ahead of her scared dog, dropping sausage treats every few feet to encourage her to keep walking.
We managed to get to the end of the block before heading home, deciding that was enough exposure therapy for one day.
We went out to grab pizza. And coffee. Because this was Poppy we were talking about here. Then she did some work for a bit before we ate cold pizza on the couch while watching one of her hundreds of saved true crime documentaries.
Well, we watched half of it.
Before she suddenly lowered herself down before me and sucked me off.
Then, well, reciprocation turned into rolling around on the couch until we both realized I had to get going to my meeting.
I'd always been thankful for work, for some of the sanity it brought me.
I'd never felt as resentful as I did as I kissed Poppy goodbye before heading across town to the office.
"You're never late," Gunner said as a greeting as I rushed inside to find everyone else already gathered around. Everyone except Quinn, that is.
