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)
“Better?” I ask, voice low, rough.
Poppy steps closer, her bare feet barely making sound against the hardwood floor. She’s so close I can feel the heat radiating off her skin; her breath mingling with mine.
“So much better,” she whispers.
Her fingers begin tracing a delicate line down my chest, palms skimming over my pec muscle, dipping down to the curve of my abs. My breath shudders out, and when her hands flatten against my stomach, my entire body tightens beneath her touch.
“Kiss me.”
My hands go to her face, and I look at her several long seconds before my lips touch hers; the way her lashes flutter, the way her mouth parts.
Juicy, kissable lips.
Dick sucking lips.
The first brush of our lips is soft, a gentle tease, a barely-there taste that sends a shiver racing down my spine. But when she presses up on her toes, angling her face to deepen the kiss, it’s game over.
I slide one hand down to the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair, and kiss her harder.
Heat. Desperation.
Our mouths move together in a slow, filthy rhythm that makes my blood throb beneath my skin. So much tongue. Sloppy.
Blood races through my cock until I can feel the tip throbbing agonizingly against my shorts.
It strains toward her through the mesh, and she moans, hands sliding up my chest, nails scraping lightly over my pecs before dipping lower, fingers splaying against my abs.
My muscles tense beneath her touch, and when her tongue flicks out to taste my bottom lip, a low moan rumbles in my chest.
I run my palms down her spine.
Down, over her ass.
Grip her butt, pulling her up, into my erection.
It aches.
This is the best first kiss I’ve ever fucking had in my entire life. She’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever had my hands on, I swear it.
I drag my mouth away from hers, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her jaw, over her neck, licking and sucking until she’s panting, her hips rocking against mine in a way that’s driving me fucking insane.
Can’t get naked yet…
Maintain control.
I want to see her.
Feel her.
Get naked with her.
I force myself to step away, legs like jelly, so I can look at her—really look at her as she stands in the sheerest excuse for lingerie I’ve ever seen.
The lace bra cups barely cover her nipples, the delicate pattern of flowers strategically placed but see-through enough to make my pulse hammer. And the panties?
Fuck. Me. Thin as a whisper, showing me the perfect dip of her hips, the curve of her thighs, the shadow of dark hair on her pussy.
I reach out, unable to help myself, and trail a thumb along the curve of her breast, my touch featherlight. Her skin is warm, soft, and pebbling with goosebumps beneath my fingertips. Her chest rises and falls, breaths coming fast, and her eyes lock onto mine, wide and dark and full of something that feels a lot like surrender.
She doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t move. Watches me as I trace the swell of her breast, the edge of lace, the dip between. My hand shakes a little as I slide lower, thumb skimming the delicate fabric, feeling the hard peak of her nipple through the lace.
Poppy swallows, throat working, lips parting on a shaky breath, it’s all I can do not to drop to my knees right then and there.
This is the most erotic moment I’ve had with a woman, honestly, finally mature enough to appreciate the curves, my fingers skimming over a tiny freckle above her left nipple, and I can’t help but lean in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to it.
Poppy shivers, her breath catching.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” I murmur, trailing my lips down, kissing a path between her breasts, letting my tongue taste her skin, warm and sweet and impossibly soft. “Beautiful.”
Her hands find their way into my hair, nails scraping against my scalp as I circle her nipple with my tongue, feeling it tighten, pebbling up for me. I close my mouth around it, sucking gently through the fabric, letting my teeth graze enough to make her gasp.
I blow, watching it pucker more.
“Turner,” she breathes, head lilting back. “I can’t wait for you to fuck me.”
The mouth on her.
The confidence.
It’s intoxicating.
I’ve been drunk on her since the second I saw her standing in my kitchen.
“Yeah?” I murmur, voice rough as gravel. “You want me to fuck you, Poppy?”
“Yes,” she pants, back arching, pressing herself harder against my mouth, as if she can’t get close enough. “Do you want to fuck me?”
“Yes,” I croak out, voice no longer functional.
I want it all.
My jaw clenches, teeth grinding together as I step forward, the ache in my jeans unbearable. My hands come down on her ass, palms splayed over the smooth, perfect curves, fingers digging in and causing her to shiver.