Four Day Fling(73)

Why did he have to make me so completely obsessed with him?

And why did the thought of never seeing him again—ever—hurt me so fucking much?

I kicked off my shoes and kicked them right across the floor. My hands dove into my hair as I squeezed my eyes shut again.

This decision would change everything. It would either tell him how I wanted him, or it would put the nail of the coffin of what could have been.

I turned.

Took a deep breath.

Grabbed the handle.

And pulled out the stupidest game in the book—the quick answer game. The first thing that popped into my head would be the right thing to do.

Pink or purple?

Pink.

Tacos or pizza?

Pizza.

Wine or vodka?

Vodka.

Disney or Universal?

Disney.

Heels or flats?

Flats.

Open or closed?





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE – POPPY


Repeat, Repeat, Repeat

I tugged the door open.

Adam was leaning against the wall opposite the door, one arm wrapped around his stomach and the other hand was in his hair.

He was standing there.

He looked up at me.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I didn’t know what to say to him. I didn’t know what I could say to him.

But I’d opened this door for a reason, and I hope he knew it wasn’t because of a spider in my bathtub or something.

He held my gaze for what felt like forever, the intensity in his eyes chilling in the best kind of way.

Slowly, I lifted one shoulder to my ear and dropped it again in a shrug.

He wasted no time closing the distance between us. He grasped the sides of my face and kissed me, staggering us into the apartment. He kicked the door shut with a bang behind us, and I grabbed his shirt.

The kiss was hot and heavy from the get-go, and it was interspersed with breaks to make sure we were heading to my room. Adam kicked the door to that shut, too, and we collapsed together on the bed.

There was a hastiness to our movements—a pure desperation as we clawed at each other’s clothes and removed them. As I sat up to remove my dress, as he pulled back to shrug off his shirt and undo his pants.

It was hot and hard, neither of us willing to give anything less than all of us. We wasted no time getting to our underwear, and it was Adam’s control under pressure as I was stripped to my bra and thong.

His hands explored my body as thoroughly as his mouth did, from unclasping my bra to tugging my panties down my legs so I was completely naked. He was fully in control as his mouth made its way from my neck to my nipples to my clit.

He was all in control as shivers and hot flushes simultaneously made their way across my skin. As he moved to remove his pants. To whisper into my ear that he trusted me, did I trust him, because he just wanted me.

Nothing else.

I answered simply, reaching between us and guiding his bare cock inside me. It was pure hunger and desire as he moved inside my wet pussy, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, tilting my hips so he could be deeper.

It was raw and hard, and I wanted it all. We kissed just as passionately as we fucked, and even as his fingers dug into my ass and my teeth scraped his lower lip, the sensations that rocketed through my body were insane.

The pain, the pleasure, the downright rawness of how I clenched around him as I came from his relentless fucking.

It was everything.

It was perfect.

It was the things fairytales were made of, because it wasn’t romantic at all. It didn’t have to be. It was real and uncontrolled, and it was the ultimate release of all the things I feared we’d both kept to ourselves over the past weeks.

And, as he kissed me hard, tongue fighting mine, his cock pressed hard me, I had the fleeting feeling that I had nothing to fear at all.

Because this was the most honest we’d ever been with each other, and neither of us had said a damn thing.

I guess actions really did speak louder than words.

Adam pulled out of me and rolled to the side, holding me against him for a second. He buried his face in my hair, and I let him curl his body around mine.

I hated being cuddled. Sleeping while cuddling was akin to torture for me, but with him—well, fuck. It was comfortable.

Mostly. I wasn’t a light switch. I couldn’t turn that shit on and off.

“Are you…” he murmured.

“If I wasn’t, that wouldn’t have happened,” I said back just as quietly. “I didn’t know who you were when I took you to my hockey-mad family. The last thing I need is a miniature you at family functions for the rest of my life.”

Adam laughed, burying his face in my hair again. His breath danced over my shoulder, teasing goosebumps on my skin.

“Tell that to your dad.”

“Please don’t ever mention my dad after sex again.”

“Does that mean we’ll have sex again?”

“Not unless you swear you’ll ever mention my dad,” I said, swinging my legs out of bed and getting up with a groan.

“Can you bring me a towel?”

I looked over my shoulder at Adam. “Sure. You’re the one who needs a towel. That’s a bucketful of cum you’ve got inside you.”

“I had it,” he said nonchalantly. “Now you’ve got it.”