Page 25 of Shameless


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Ican’t stop thinking about what it would be like if you just let go.

Those fifteen words arranged into a sentence are what finally snap my tightly harnessed control. Without thinking, I leap forward to take what I’ve spent the last thirty-six hours obsessing about.

Even as my mouth roves over hers, I know this is a terrible idea. And yet, that knowledge isn’t enough to stop the moment from unfolding.

Instead of being a passive participant like the other night, she kisses me back with an equal amount of fervor. That only stokes the flames of my desire. My cock is so hard it feels like it’ll explode any second. I can’t remember the last time a woman turned me on to this degree.

Maybe never.

It’s a disturbing thought. One that gets shoved away before it can take root inside my brain and do permanent damage.

When she nips at my lower lip, everything circling viciously through my head vanishes until this girl is all I’m cognizant of. My hands go to her ass to lift her body. Her legs tangle around my waist as her arms tighten their hold. From this angle, I have to crane my neck to meet her mouth.

I walk us to the long stretch of counter before holding her up with one hand and clearing the paperwork and tools with the other. Everything scatters to the floor. The metal that clinks against the cement barely penetrates the thick haze clouding my brain.

My fingers go to the hem of her tank, stripping it away in one swift movement. When she doesn’t protest, I slip my hands around her back and unhook the latches of her bra until the silky cups fall away. Need spikes through me as I grab the undergarment and toss it to the floor.

My gaze drops to her breasts, licking over the rounded flesh. She’s bigger than I suspected. Slightly more than a handful topped with perfect little nipples that have hardened into tight points and beg for my attention.

Unable to resist any longer, I lean forward and catch one pert tip with my lips. A whimper escapes from her as she reclines against the linoleum, propping herself up on her elbows and arching her back as if she’s making an offering. Minutes pass before I release the puckered bud with a soft pop and move to the other before gently biting down on the firm flesh.

When a gasp breaks free, I lave the stiff peak with my tongue before drawing it inside my mouth and sucking greedily.

My dick is so painfully hard that it feels like I’m in danger of exploding. I’m desperate to believe it’s because I haven’t been with a woman in a couple months, but deep down, I suspect that’s not the reason. I think it has everything to do with the beautiful girl falling apart in my arms.

When the need to touch more of her thrums through me, I release the tight bud before nipping and kissing my way down her ribcage, past the soft curve of her belly until I reach the waistband of her shorts.

I’m so fucking close to the juncture of her thighs that the scent of her arousal teases my nostrils. My mouth practically salivates for a taste. All I can think about is ripping off every piece of clothing, spreading her lips, and lapping at her softness until she has no other choice but to scream out an orgasm.

My fingers slip beneath the band, arcing across her skin from one hipbone to the other before drifting back again. After several passes, I hesitate over the silver button and glance up. I’ve never been one to seek out permission, but with Poppy it feels imperative. Maybe it’s because she’s so much younger. Or that she’s Coach’s daughter.

Fuck.

I shove that thought from my brain before it can do permanent damage.

When I remain motionless, she lifts her head and opens her eyes until our gazes can lock.

“Should I stop?” I rasp.

“Don’t you dare.”

The throaty response does the impossible and has my lips lifting into a slight smile.

That’s all the encouragement I need to flick open the button before dragging down the zipper. The grind of metal teeth breaks the silence of the garage. Once the material loosens, I work it over the rounded curve of her hips. She braces on her elbows, lifting her ass off the counter until the material puddles around her ankles and she’s able to kick it away.

And then she’s left in nothing more than pale blue panties.

Instead of delving in and shredding the fabric the way every instinct is urging me to do, I give myself a moment to take in the pretty picture she makes, lounging practically naked on the counter of my garage as bright sunlight pours in from the open door. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more gorgeous than Poppy. The lust filling her heavy-lidded eyes only fuels my own.

Unable to wait a second longer, I slip my fingers beneath the elastic band and lower it. Part of me wants to tear the panties away until she’s completely bared to my sight. But I can’t deny there’s something delicious about drawing out this moment.

The anticipation.

The thrill.

The way my pulse picks up tempo as my fingers tremble from the need rushing through my veins. It’s like unwrapping a highly anticipated present at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning.

The toy you just knew would be fucking amazing.

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