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Her weak smile evolves to a full-blown one. “Isn’t that I what inferred just now?”
The second I’m close enough, I reach out and gently pull her against me. “I’m afraid your new position starts immediately, Ms. McAdams.” Her eyes widen, and in the next instant, I’m swinging her up into my arms and carrying her toward the door.
“Wh-hat are you doing?” she asks with a nervous little laugh.
“Taking you home with me. Looks like I’ll be playing doctor today.”
Despite Poppy’s protests, I spend the whole day taking care of her most personal needs. I even surprise myself with my culinary skills at making chicken noodle soup, which she says is just as tasty as the one her mom used to make. Now, that’s a compliment because generally, men can’t outdo the generational magic of a mother’s or grandmother’s recipe.
After lunch, I advise her to lie down on my king-size bed, naked, so I can really play doctor. I start with a back massage, rolling out the knots in her shoulders, all the way down to the curves of her supple ass. When I then instruct her to turn over, the tent pole growing in my pants threatens to burst free. Poppy moans as I give her breasts a thorough examination, teasing them with my fingers before taking my time with each of them in my mouth, sucking and softly biting down on the taut, cherry-like nibs. After I finally release them, my lips traverse down her body, trailing over the smooth skin of her abdomen, her navel, the inside of her thighs, and straight to her sweet spot.
The moment my mouth finds her dripping wet folds, Poppy writhes, her hips momentarily rising off the bed. I swirl my tongue around her engorged clit, all the while looking up at her, relishing the pure ecstasy on her face as she gets nearer and nearer to her undoing.
“Oh, Nathaniel. I’m so close,” she pants, her beautiful face flushed. All it takes is another few seconds of me alternating the rhythm, and she’s bucking again, crying out my name as her orgasm crashes down on her.
What had only meant to be an hour of pleasure for her soon turns into a semi-marathon, with me seeming to fuck the food poisoning right out of her. I take her on the bed, on the sofa, on the kitchen island, even on the floor in the hallway. It’s like she’s a hit of heroin and I have to keep having more.
Finally, the light begins to fade outside, and we mutually decide to take a break… until, at least, tomorrow. Poppy sits on the rug by the fire I’ve just re-stoked, and as I make us some hot chocolate, I watch her from the kitchen. She’s a vision in the firelight.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, carrying the two steaming mugs over to Poppy. I sit down on the rug, barely an inch away from her. It feels as if any amount of distance between us is too much, and that both excites and scares the hell out of me. I’m like a teenage boy who’s just had sex for the first time with a girl he’s been crushing on, and I don’t want to break the fuck bubble we’ve created.
She turns to me and chisels a cheeky smile. “How do you think?”
“I’d hazard a guess that you’re feeling pretty damn good for a girl who felt like ‘death warmed over’ this morning.”
Poppy bites her lower lip and leans over to press a brief kiss on my lips. “Good guess, Mr. Stone.”
For the rest of the night, we just hang out. I warm up the soup, and we settle on the sofa, watching a rerun of Seinfeld.
I could get used to this, I dare to think. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be with a woman. Really be with a woman. As in when it’s more than just sex. When it’s deeper yet more casual all at the same time.
When Poppy curls up against me, and eventually drifts off to sleep on my shoulder, I do something I haven’t done since Danneel. I lean down and kiss her forehead—an intimate gesture that I know is probably a mistake. Not only is this girl half my age, an employee, and the daughter of a man I’ve come to respect, but there’s also something she doesn’t know about me—the reason why I hid all the photo frames earlier so she wouldn’t find out yet.
I can’t be irresponsible here. I can’t jump the gun and start a relationship without knowing if it’s going to be worth it. There’s so much at stake, for the both of us, and I don’t know if this, the arrangement we’ve started, is going to work out.
But I will tell Poppy; when the time is right. And if she decides she can’t sleep with a man who has the kind of baggage that can’t be stripped away, then fair enough. I’ll respect her wishes, and let her walk out of my life as quickly as she had walked in.
Pushing away the thought, I take care in moving her head off my shoulder and then shimmy her up into my arms. I carry her down the hallway and back into my bedroom. As I lay her down on the sheets and tuck her in, a fresh memory burns in my mind. So many times, I had done this for Danneel—after she’d stayed up late watching an old, classic movie, or had one too many wines after a gala we’d attended. Although my heart has healed, and I’ve moved on, the ghost of her will always be with me. And that’s something else Poppy will have to know… if things were ever to—
