Pucked Off (Pucked #5)(70)

I’m still rocking her over me when she drops the bra on my stomach. She’s still holding her breasts, though, being all modest. Or maybe a little playful, since so far it’s been pretty fucking intense, and we’re not even fully undressed.

“Maybe we should take your pants off,” she suggests. “Since I’m more naked than you are now.”

“Aye, maybe we should.”

“That would make it a bit more fair, wouldn’t it?”

“It would,” I agree.

And that’s when she drops her hands and goes for my belt. It’s an orchestrated distraction. The freckles on her shoulders trickle down to the top of her breasts. Poppy’s creamy white skin contrasts perfectly with the rosy pink of her nipples. Which I want to kiss and lick and suck, but she’s busy right now, popping the button on my dress pants. The zipper goes down, and Poppy shifts so she’s sitting beside me. I lift my hips so she can pull them down. I’m commando, so there’s no hiding my erection as it springs free.

Poppy gives a low whistle. “You’re really not compensating at all.” She pulls my pants down the rest of the way, along with my socks.

“I have condoms in my wallet. It’s in the back pocket.”

“That’s good, because I don’t think the ones I have will be very comfortable.” She sets my wallet on my chest.

“Probably not.” I flip it open and pull one out, dropping it on the bed before I toss my wallet on the nightstand. She eyes the foil wrapper and tucks her thumbs into the waistband of her panties.

I sit up. “I wanna help with that.”

Poppy drops her hands by her side. I don’t go straight for her panties. Instead I cup her breasts and kiss each pert nipple, following with a lick and an indulgent suck.

Her hands go into my hair, and she whispers, “Oh, God.” I stay there for a little while, appreciating the quiet, non-bunny sounds that come out of her. She doesn’t shriek or squeal or scream. It makes me acutely aware of how much I don’t want that any more and never really did. It was just another escape.

I pull her panties over her hips, but I have to stop with the nipple sucking and breast fondling in order to get them the rest of the way off. I’ve never wanted my hands in more places at once like I do right now.

I rise up on my knees in front of her. It forces her to tilt her head up. “Poppy.” It’s mostly a groan.

She runs her hands over my chest. “Lance.” It comes out breathless.

I squeeze her hip and shift my hand, fingers drifting low. I slip one between her legs, hot and wet greeting me. “I wanna kiss you right here.”

Her mouth drops open, brow furrowing, her grip on my shoulders tightening.

“Will you let me do that?” I find her clit and circle it. “Kiss you here?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to kiss you here?” I ask, because letting and wanting are not the same. I let Tash do a lot of things I didn’t want any part of. I don’t ever want to do anything like that to Poppy.

“Yes.” She skims my bottom lip with her fingertip. “I want to know what your mouth feels like.”

“You know what I want?” I lay her down, fanning her hair out.

She shakes her head.

I straddle her, because if I get between her legs now, there’s no way I’ll be able to follow through on what I want. Or what she said she wants.

I kiss her before I answer. “I want to know what you sound like when you come.” Then I swallow her moan as I take her mouth.

We kiss while I caress her breasts and down her sides. Then I start a languorous descent over her body, stopping at her nipples, at the dip in her waist, and to nibble at her hip before I edge a knee between hers.

Poppy parts her thighs, and I get comfortable, stretching out so my legs are hanging off the end of the bed. I spread her open and drop a wet kiss on that pretty little clit.

Poppy drags in a breath. I move my lips to the inside of her thigh and nip there before going back to her clit, again and again. I lick her until she comes, and my name is a hoarse cry on her lips. And then I do it again, because she tastes like she’s made for me, and I’m already addicted to the sound of her when I give her exactly what she needs.

Which I want to be me.

She’s glassy eyed and flush cheeked by the time I’m done. I hover over her and slide two fingers inside, pumping slow.

Her eyes roll up, and when they come back down, she raises a shaky hand and presses it to my cheek. “I want you.”

“Right now?”

She bites her lip and nods, then searches the comforter for the condom. When she finds it, she puts a hand on my chest. “Can I put it on?”

At this point, she hasn’t had her hand on my cock. I’m not sure how I’m going to handle that. I’m not worried about having her touch me; I’m worried about how quickly I’m going to come when she does. But I don’t want to say no to her.

“Is that what you want?” I ask.

“Only if you want me to.” She gives me my words back.

“I want.” I sit back on my knees, and she follows. But she doesn’t tear the wrapper open as her long hair sweeps over my thighs. She wraps her fingers around my cock, holding it steady. Then she looks up at me and bends forward to kiss the tip.