Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 92646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Eyes closed, lashes fluttering, her lips wrap around me, hand moving up and down in slow, torturous strokes as she grips me.
I can’t fucking take it.
My hips buck up, a rough, ragged sound tearing from me, and she tightens her grip on my thighs, holding me down, keeping me in place while her mouth works me, tongue swirling, lips sliding, pressure building.
I’m coming apart. Completely.
“Poppy…” I choke out, my voice wrecked, my chest heaving, my vision blurring at the edges. “Fuck, I’m—”
She hums around my shaft, a soft, low vibration that sends a shockwave straight through my spine, and my entire body jerks, my hips lifting off the bed, my hands fisting the sheets as the pressure inside me reaches a breaking point.
And when I come, it’s deep in her throat.
Every ounce of energy has been sapped from my limbs, room is spinning, my pulse still thundering in my ears, and all I can do is stare at the ceiling, blinking against the rush of heat still coursing through me.
She wipes the back of her hand across her mouth, her eyes dark and unreadable as she meets my gaze. There’s a beat of silence, the air thick and charged, and my heart slams against my ribs, a hot rush of panic flooding my veins.
My eyes open and I blink back the dark, my pulse still thrumming, chest heaving like I’ve just sprinted a mile. The room is silent, save for the quiet hum of the fan. I’m twisted in my sheets, damp with sweat.
I drag a hand down my face, the image of her mouth, the feel of her tongue, still burning behind my eyelids. My jaw clenches.
It was a dream. Just a fucking dream.
Shit.
Damn if it didn’t feel real….
poppy
. . .
“Itried calling you like, four times.”
I shrug. “Sorry, I just…”
Couldn’t sleep.
Snuck out of my roommate’s bed because I could not handle spooning him without having sex with him.
He smelled too good. Felt too good.
“Slept late,” I finish, cheeks burning as I pace the length of my bedroom, fingers twisting in the hem of my oversized sweatshirt—the same one I threw on after I returned to my room in the middle of the night.
Nova makes a skeptical noise. “You? Sleeping in? On a Saturday? Yeah, right.”
“You know me so well.” I laugh, avoiding my reflection in the mirror. The last thing I want to see is my hair.
“What’s with that tone?”
“I don’t have a tone,” I say quickly, clearing my throat. “So, uh… why were you calling me four times? Everything okay?”
“Oh! Right,” Nova says, her tone shifting from suspicious to frustrated. “Luca and I went to that brunch place I told you about—the one with the mimosa flight and the fancy omelets? You will never guess who I ran into.”
I tuck my hair behind my ear, and flop back onto my bed. “Who?”
“Wesley, that loser.”
The name drops like a bomb, and I cringe.
Wesley. One of Nova’s exes.
He ghosted her after six months of stringing her along and mind-fucking her, keeping her dangling like a fish on a hook while he “figured himself out.” Spoiler alert: what he was actually figuring out was how to juggle her and three other girls simultaneously without any of them finding out.
What a prick.
“Oh ew,” I say. “How bad was it?”
Nova huffs out a breath. “Pretty bad. He was there with his girlfriend. Who, by the way, looks exactly like me and I’m not saying that’s bad. Except she’s blonde and obviously I’m not.”
I laugh.
“When he saw me, he pretended not to. Like, you’re not invisible, dude. You’re an asshole wearing a beanie.”
I could not stand that guy and was glad when their relationship came to an end.
I bite my lip, trying not to laugh. “What did you do?”
“Luca and I sat there and made fun of him. I ordered bottomless mimosas—they were amazing, by the way—chugged three of them and called you but you didn’t answer.”
Obviously.
“Right.” I smile. “Sorry about that.”
I was busy last night and could barely drag myself out of bed…
Nova lets out a long, dramatic sigh. “Whatever. I’m over it.”
I yawn.
“Yeah.” She yawns. “So that was my morning. How about yours?”
I open my mouth, the words right there on the tip of my tongue, and they’re so heavy I almost choke on them.
The phone is pressed to my ear while my other hand grips the hem of my sweatshirt, pulling it down over my knees as I move to sit cross-legged on the bed, staring at the wall like it might give me a sign.
Nova’s voice crackles through the line, tinny and impatient. “Poppy? You still there?”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice too high, too tight.
“You’re being weird,” she says, suspicion bleeding through every word. “Like, more than your usual weird.”
I let out a shaky laugh, the sound forced and hollow. “Am I?”