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For once, she does as she’s told. My touch is softer as I trace the length of her inner thigh, stopping when I feel the slick wetness in the curve of her mound.
Poppy Murphy is dripping wet.
For me.
I slip my hands under her thighs and breasts, rising to my feet and taking her with me. She gasps as the couch disappears underneath her, and moans again when I drop her onto her back on the bed. “Spread your legs,” I growl. The lust is coursing through my veins, pumping my heart a million beats a minute. This time, she does exactly what she’s told. “Good girl,” I say, softer, drinking in her swollen clit and moistened lips. I drag my eyes up to her face, and it’s a sight just as beautiful. Her emerald eyes are wild and her pale skin is flustered a rose red. Both betray the scowl etched onto her forehead. Her chest heaves, up and down, up and down, her hard nipples puckered tight against the thin fabric covering her chest.
Poppy Murphy wants me.
I slide my hand up her thigh, my attention never leaving that beautiful face. She squeezes her eyes shut, jaw stiffening as she grits her teeth.
Yes. Poppy Murphy wants me, but she doesn’twantto want me.
Here I am again, weighing up my options. Only this time, my throbbing cock has a hand in the decision-making. I could take what I came here for—her virginity. I could slip my dick in her tight, dripping pussy and claim her innocence.
Or, I couldmakeher want to want me.
Before my manhood gets to lay out his debate, I tear my hand away from her hip and run both my hands from her knees all the way to the top of her inner thighs. Her breath hitches in her chest as I get so close to her precious flower, and it escapes her when I slide right past it, hovering just above her mound. “Look at me,” I say, pinning her with my gaze. Our eyes lock. My thumb slips down into her wetness, brushing over her engorged clit. My touch is as light as I can possibly muster, but it still makes her throw her head back, a soft moan escaping from her perfect lips. “I said, look at me.”
She meets my eyes again, and there’s no mistaking the lust swirling in those emerald green irises. Never leaving her gaze, I stroke her clit in small, circular motions, enjoying every quiver, every shake under my touch.
“Who does this pussy belong to, Poppy?” I demand.
“Don’t,” she mutters, but her pleas get lost in her gasp as I apply a little more pressure.
“You know by now, I don’t ask twice.”
I can feel the tension mounting in her pussy, and it’s impossible to ignore the tension dancing between our bodies, either. “Yours,” she gasps.
Mine.
“Then come for me,” I demand as her breathing becomes more labored, “give yourself to me.”
She grits her teeth and bundles the bedding on either side of her in her tiny fists. “N-no,” she stutters, so quietly that it almost gets lost in crackling heat.
I press my thumb more firmly against her sensitive sweet spot. Circling faster, harder. “I’ve already told you, no isn’t part of your vocabulary anymore. Now,come for me.”
Maybe it’s the added pressure against her clit, but I could swear she shivers at the harsh tone of my voice. Whatever it is, the way she throws her head back and mutters an oath under her breath sends me wild. With a firm hand pinning her thigh to the bed, I alternate between tracing demanding circles on her clit and lightly trailing my fingers along the length of her soaked lips. Her inner conflict fascinates me. There’s no doubt her body is begging for release under my touch, but the way she’s clenching her fists, biting on her bottom lip, tells me her brain isn’t on the same page.
But I always win. I always get what I want. Eventually, her pleasure overflows under my hand, her legs trembling as she lets herself go, withering on the bed.
Betrayal. That’s what clouds her eyes when she floats down from her high. Her soft mouth hardens, her body tenses, moving it away from my touch.
I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the need to let her know it’s okay. She opened up like a blossoming flower underneath my touch, and now she’s curling back up, trying to get as far away from me as possible. I press my palms into the bed on either side of her, leaning over to brush my lips over her glistening forehead. “My good China Doll,” I say, low and steady.
I rise to my feet, towering over her. She’s silent, watching as I rearrange my throbbing cock in my suit pants, straightening my cufflinks. “Next time I hear you mention another man, your punishment won’t have such a happy ending.”
I don’t bother asking her if she understood. Instead, I slip out of the room, leaving her laying on her bed, a little less innocent than before.
Poppy
I strain my ears to hear the front door open and close, but I can barely hear anything over the hammering of my heart against my rib cage.
After I’m sure he’s gone, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, needing to feel the cold floorboards on the soles of my feet to bring me back to reality.
What the fuck?
On shaking legs, I stumble into the en suite and perch on the edge of the freestanding bath. I twist the knob marked cold—I really don’t need any more heat today.
