Chapter 33
I followPoppy up the stairs with the suitcases in my hands. She gasps again, louder than before, and steps inside the plane. The pilot is waiting just inside the cabin, and I tip my chin at her as we pass. Poppy’s too enthralled with the interior of the plane to notice the pilot at all.
“This is beautiful,” she breathes.
I agree. It’s all light wood and cream interior with gold accents. Two sets of cream-coloured leather chairs are first, facing one another with a small table between them. On the left side behind them sits a two-seater couch, and opposite that is a larger table with another set of chairs on either side.
The SER stitched into the back of each seat was my decision, as was the colour palette. It’s soft and warm. Easy on the eyes.
“There’s a bedroom through the far door and a bathroom connected to it,” I explain while placing our suitcases in one of the overhead bins.
I set my carry-on on the first chair to my right and then come up behind Poppy, pressing my chest flat to her back. She hums happily, and I smile, breathing her in. The scent of her perfume, in addition to her presence, does a number on my nerves, settling them for the first time in days.
“Are you trying to get me to step into the bedroom with you, Mr. Beckett?” she murmurs, leaning into my embrace.
My arms slip around her middle and hold her tight as I drop my head forward, resting my chin on her shoulder. “I think you’ll like what you find in there.”
“Is that so?”
Rubbing my cheek against her neck, I turn my face inward to kiss her throat. “Hopefully.”
“You shouldn’t be touching me like this. I still have yet to forgive you. I’m pretty sure this is actually cheating.”
“Then tell me to back away,” I dare her.
She shudders in my arms, her breathing shallow. “I can’t.”
“So don’t.”
“What’s waiting for me in the bedroom?”
I take a step forward, moving her with me. She follows my lead and walks on her own, never wriggling free of my grip.
The door is closed on purpose. Nerves swell in my stomach as the unfamiliar situation weighs on me. I swallow thickly and let her open the door, forcing myself not to contemplate it for a second more. I’ve faced far scarier situations in my life and throughout my career. This should be simple for me. It’s not.
The moment Poppy opens the door and the interior of the bedroom comes into view, I hold my breath.
“What . . .” She trails off, looking around the room, taking everything in.
I tug her further into me, forcing myself to breathe again. When I do, it’s all her. Her smell, her warmth, her happiness. Her everything.
I’d always considered myself to be incredibly intelligent. Vigilant and honest, as well. But not once had I ever considered myself a fool until I met her and didn’t immediately seek her out after we parted. And even more so after I allowed her to slip from my fingers.
I would love to blame it on my narrow-minded focus on work and how pissed and betrayed I was with my father and company for sending me to Cherry Peak in the first place. But it’s more than that. It was my own inability to stop looking down my nose at those around me. If I hadn’t been such a stubborn ass, I wouldn’t have lost so much time.
The gifts scattered around the bedroom have been accumulating in my possession for the past few weeks now. After ordering her the new washer and dryer, I became enamoured with buying things for her that I noticed she needed but doubted she would ever ask for. Some of those purchases are here, but a few wait at her house for our return.
Her attention lingers on the new coffee machine sitting on the floor beside the bed, still in the large box that spouts something about espresso and lattes that I didn’t care enough to read fully.
My heart hammers behind my rib cage to an uneven beat. It’s like flaying my mind wide open and offering the chance to root through it. Allowing myself to be vulnerable is a new skill I have yet to master, but with her, I think I could enjoy the time it would take to do so.
The two new pillows wrapped in their protective coverings on the floor beside the coffee machine box are next in her perusal.
They’re the same kind as the ones I have back home, and after spending two days in her bed using the thin pancakes she calls pillows, I figured maybe she’d like some new ones. It was an impulse buy far too late at night, but I couldn’t bring myself to cancel it the morning after. I didn’t want to.
For some odd reason, it’s the baskets full of skin care, body lotions, and shower products that make me the most nervous. I feel like a creep having memorized all of her favourites from my time at her place. Every bottle and jar and container of product I saw, I found myself purchasing every night, one after the other. They began arriving this week, the delivery delayed like everything else, but once they started coming, they didn’t stop. I’m sure even more have arrived in the time I’ve been gone.
“I know it looks like I went out and bought all of this today just to try and bribe my way back in your good graces, but everything here has been building for a while now. I, uh, yeah,” I ramble, frustrated with myself for being so on edge right now.
“Garrison Beckett . . . are you nervous right now?”
“Yeah, I guess I am,” I choke.
She spins in my arms, hands falling flat to my chest, over the thrashing heart beneath. I’m weak-kneed as I stare down at her, cautiously hopeful. Her eyes are soft, a warm milk-chocolate colour that reflects her every feeling. The disbelief and appreciation. Fuck, even a gut-punching emotion that borders on what I want to call love but can’t bring myself to label.
I have the overwhelming desire to drop to my knees before her and beg for forgiveness, and surprisingly, that doesn’t scare me.
I trust Poppy not to take advantage of my vulnerability. And maybe that’s what pushes me to drop one knee to the ground and then the other. I shudder, keeping my eyes on hers as she now has the ability to stare down at me.
“I’m sorry, Poppy. So sorry for hurting you,” I whisper.
The soft curves of her hips feel heavenly beneath my hands as I touch her again, rubbing up and down and back to front. Her dress is smooth, a silky mauve material that hugs her in all the right places, as if it was designed exclusively for her. She’s a goddess, and I fear I may be unworthy of this sacred position in front of her.
Reaching down, she carves her fingers lovingly through my hair and sets her other hand on my shoulder. I watch with rapt attention, hanging on by a thread for her next words.
“How long until we take off?”
I can barely make out the words she speaks through the thick desire coating each one.
“Half an hour, maybe.”
Her nails trail behind my ear and along my jaw. I shiver, darting my tongue along my lips as I lean forward, digging my nose into her soft belly.
“Shut the door, and then come right back here. On your knees,” she orders softly, the hand on my shoulder sliding back to grip my nape, massaging it gently.
I move in slow motion. I’m half out of my mind as I glance out into the open area of the plane and find it empty before shutting the door harder than necessary. I linger in front of the closed door, feeling the wood beneath my palm as I gulp down breaths, my muscles coiled tight enough to burn.
“Garrison,” Poppy calls, and I turn.
She hasn’t moved an inch. I’m pulled to her by an inexplainable force, and I surrender to it.
Falling to my knees in front of her again, the plush carpet soft beneath my slacks, I return my hands to her hips and hold her, waiting.
“I accept your apology,” she murmurs. “You didn’t have to do all of this. I’d have forgiven you without all the gifts and the trip.”
“I did have to because I wanted to. You deserve this and more. Don’t forgive me yet.”
I never thought I’d ever want to have to earn forgiveness like this before. But with Poppy, I want to fight for it. All of this . . . it was only the start.
She deserves so, so fucking much more. And I want to give it to her.
“What else do you have in mind, then?” she all but purrs.
I bury my face in her dress again, inhaling deep. Lowering my hands down her sides, I tuck my fingers beneath the hem of her dress and watch her reaction, searching for the first spark of refusal. Only approval greets me.
A tiny tip of her chin, and then I’m dragging my touch up her smooth, creamy thighs, pushing her dress higher and higher until finally, she grabs it for me and hitches it above her belly button.
The sight of her lace panties—the same colour as her dress—both enrages me and turns me the fuck on. Never once have I seen her not in some fancy type of lingerie, and while I love it, I also know I’d love the sight of her in cheap cotton panties just as much.
“Did you wear these for him?” I rasp, the question burning the entire way up.
“What would you do if I said yes?”
I swallow, pressing my nose to her inner thigh. My lips ghost over her warm skin as I dip a finger beneath the band of her panties, rubbing it back and forth.
“I’d do everything in my power to ensure the only man you ever want to wear these for is me.”
Her thigh shakes beneath my mouth, and my stomach soars. I move to kiss the opposite thigh, higher this time, lace scraping my cheek.
She moans, the sound so soft it’s hardly audible. I want more. Louder noises. But there’s not enough time to make her scream yet. Not until we’re in the air.
“Stop teasing, Garrison.”
I fight off the controlling side of me that screams that I’ll stop teasing when I so decide because this isn’t the moment for it. I’m enjoying turning my brain off and following pure instinct in this moment.
“Okay, honey,” I breathe against her skin before turning my head and placing my lips over damp lace.
Her taste explodes on my tongue, and I moan before swiping a hot streak up her centre, sucking the fabric into my mouth. Nails return to my scalp, digging and tugging at my hair.
“Yes,” she whimpers, her hips lurching forward.
I tuck a finger beneath the gusset of her panties and tug them aside before diving into her bare pussy. Reaching around her body with both hands, I grab two handfuls of her ass and pull her forward until my face is buried between her legs.
I’m tall enough that I can’t reach every inch of her, and that has me moving again. Squeezing at her ass, I encourage her to move with me as I lower myself to the floor, lying on my back beneath her.
“On my face, Poppy. Sit that pretty pussy right over my mouth,” I command, some of my edge slipping through.
She doesn’t care. I huff a relieved breath as she follows direction and sets both knees on either side of my head and hovers, tugging her panties to the side for me.
I grab her ass cheeks again and squeeze. Her pussy is slick above me, so pink and swollen my mouth waters. I’ve never let a woman sit on my face before, but it seems an injustice not to allow this woman to ride my tongue the proper way.
“Drop, Poppy. Fucking ride my face.”
She does, and I groan so loud it reverberates in my chest at the first taste of her. I breathe through my nose and drag my tongue through her lips, gathering her arousal and drinking it down like a starving man.
“Oh, my God. Garri—fuck!” she cries, her thighs shuddering and pressing hard against my cheeks.
I nod, twirling the tip of my tongue around her clit, finding it swollen and oh-so fucking sensitive. She shakes above me and grinds down, forcing more of her clit in my mouth as I suck on it.
Hands finding purchase on my skull, she curls her fingers in my hair and uses the leverage to grind again, setting her own pace. I take everything she’s giving me, the need for air a drifting thought. I’ve forgotten it, only one thing on my mind.
Pleasing what’s mine.
Making her scream.
“I’m going to crush you when I come,” she warns breathlessly.
“Please.”
I flick her clit over and over again, zeroed in to every reaction and mewled noise she makes when I do. The intensity of her shakes grows harder, becoming full jerks of her body, and I pick up my pace. Alternating between sucks and licks, I don’t give her clit any reprieve.
“Yes, yes. Yes! Right there. Almost. Almost . . .” she whines, hips jerking hard enough I’d have been able to tell what she wants without the words.
But fuck. Her words tear me up. They wrap around my aching cock and stroke. I’m on the edge, the feral side of my mind howling in satisfaction.
I release her right cheek and swat at it. She drips against my mouth, and I do it again. And again, each strike growing harder. After the fifth slap, her thighs tighten, and her body grows stiff, like her muscles have frozen.
With another flick at her clit, she springs back to life. Her pussy quivers, and I know if I could slip a finger inside of her, she’d be clenching, squeezing it tight in an attempt to keep it buried there.
“Coming, coming, coming,” she mumbles vacantly.
I steal a breath through my nose and bury my tongue inside of her, desperate to taste her cum. I’m not left wanting, and I groan against her cunt.
“Garrison,” she whimpers, the muscles in her thighs relaxing as she tries to lean back to give me space.
I smack her ass in punishment, shaking my head beneath her. “Not done. I want what I’ve earned.”
Her breath hitches, but no words follow. She lets me clean her up with my tongue, careful not to touch her oversensitive clit as I finish up.
By the time I’m done, she’s hovering above me again, and I grin, feeling intoxicatingly blissed-out. My mouth is wet, and it pains me to wipe at my face once she moves down my body and plants herself on my lap.
Her cheeks are pink, eyes hazy, blinking quickly in an attempt to make them focus. “Wow.”
“Fucking wow,” I echo.
I set my hands on her thighs and brush my thumbs over them. Her weight on my legs is a comfort, and I make no move to get up just yet.
“I’ve never sat on anyone’s face before,” she admits.
“Good.”
Her giggle wraps around my heart and squeezes. “Have you always been this possessive?”
“No. No one has ever been worth the effort of being possessive over them. Not until you. The thought of you with anyone but me feels like a cruel joke.”
She lowers her eyes, fingers toying with the two unbuttoned buttons on my shirt. Spreading the material apart, she draws a line down the top of my sternum.
“I didn’t expect this today.”
“You should always expect surprises from me. From now until . . .” I cut myself off before I speak the final word.
Forever.
It’s not plausible. Not right now. Our future come the end of my time in Cherry Peak is undecided.
Poppy nods, reading my mind. We both know there’s a lot more to talk about, but that will come later.
When we’re both ready for that conversation.