9
Poppy
Dozens of students, all decked out in their Wolves gear, stop by the coffee shop on their way to tonight’s game. I spot girls wearing jerseys with players’ names stretched across their backs. Far too many say James, and I wish I could “accidentally” spill some coffee on them.
No. You’re supposed to be choosing good. And being nice.
I wonder if Walker ever gets nervous before a game. He never seemed to back when he was younger, but he’d always listen to music before he hit the ice. That had a way of getting him amped up, I guess. But here at Brooks, the stakes are so much higher. I’ve heard the buzz; he has the weight of being Cam Hardy’s replacement resting on his shoulders.
That must be hard. You have to be great or else you’ll let your entire team down—no, the entire campus.
Shaking my head, I wipe off the counter. I don’t know why I care if he’s nervous or not. I don’t. Simple as that. Though I can’t even think about kissing him the day of the fundraiser, or my knees basically buckle underneath me.
That was the last time I saw him. Two weeks ago.
Every time I see a black truck drive by the coffee shop or I see a group of guys with duffel bags coming from the gym…I wonder if it’s him. But then, before I risk seeing him again, I look down.
Some things just aren’t meant to be. I’ve made choices; he’s made choices. All for our own needs. But those choices have been the demise between us.
There was a time when I thought he’d always be in my life. Now, we’re on the same campus, yet we’re both too stubborn to just let the past stay in the past.
He’ll be going pro soon, and then he’ll have women throwing themselves at him daily. It’s probably best that we don’t try to rekindle anything. Then again, I guess we never got the chance to light that fuse to begin with.
“Hey, now that the rush is over, I’m going to restock everything we’re down on,” I call to Jasmin. “You good out here?”
Looking up from her phone, she nods. “Yep. It’ll be a ghost town till the game ends anyway.” She walks around the counter. “Which reminds me, you know the boss’s rules. We need to put the game on for anyone who might come in.”
Throwing my head back dramatically, I groan. “Can we at least mute it for now?” That way, I don’t have to listen to the broadcasters say Walker’s name five hundred times.
Chuckling, she nods. “Good plan.”
*********
Walker
After our halftime pep talk, we all head out of the locker room.
“You’re not fucking around tonight.” Watson grins, glancing back at me. “Nice work out there tonight, James.”
“Thanks, Gent. You too.” I nod.
“Must be nice to finally have a game when the name Cam Hardy isn’t being shoved down your throat five thousand times, huh?” He chuckles. “Don’t feel bad. I felt the same way last year when I was the team’s new starting goalie. Soon, the team will be yours.”
I know what he means by that. Right now, Link is our captain. But next year, he’ll be gone. If I don’t get into the NHL next season, the torch will likely be passed to me since I’m the center and one of our best players. I’m not quite sure if I’m ready for it though.
I think this has been my best game yet. For the first time since being here, I feel like the guys are working with me and not like I’m an outsider.
It’s about time too. And I’m not going to make them regret it.
As we head back onto the ice, I make my way toward Huff.
Cade is acting out of character tonight. I mean, he’s always a little off. But tonight, he’s more like a zombie. And he’s on edge, and he wants absolutely no criticism. He’s on the ice, but he’s mentally not here. It’s becoming increasingly obvious that he’s in deep and he needs help. It’s been days since I saw him at Van’s. And even though I don’t want to get into his business, I’m scared for him. So, later tonight, I’ll talk to him. I can’t keep it in anymore.
“Huff, get it together,” I growl at him. “Everyone out here is doing their job besides you.”
“Fuck off, James,” he mutters, glowering at me. “I’m fucking here, aren’t I?”
“Barely,” I mumble, shaking my head.
As I skate away, I see Hunter approach Cade. Huff looks pissed, but I just hope whatever Thompson says works. This is only my first season with the team. But Hunter and Cade have been together for two and also live together. If anyone can reach him, it’d be Hunter or Watson.
I want this win more than anything. Maybe Link gets under my skin so badly because I know I’m a lot like him. Intense. Expecting greatness from everyone. I don’t want any half-assed players on my team. And today, that’s exactly what Cade is.
*********
Poppy
I’m finishing filling sugar bottles, when my phone rings. My first instinct is to ignore it. It could be Ron calling from a different phone in prison, but because it could also be one of my brothers, I know I need to answer it.
“Hello?” I say, glancing up at the television, seeing none other than Walker James skating across the screen, getting ready for the puck drop.
“Poppy Wilson?” a deep voice says, and right away, I feel uneasy.
“This is she.”
“Ms. Wilson, this is Officer Herrick.” There’s a short pause, and my stomach feels like it’s balling up inside. “I have some unfortunate news to share with you. Are you, uh … are you sitting down?”
“Say it,” I whisper, my head feeling like a thousand prickly thorns are poking it as I wait for him to say something that I know is going to change my entire life. It’s a feeling in the pit of my being. Something I can’t shake.
“I’m so sorry to tell you this, Poppy. But it’s about Van, your brother.” He sighs. “Sadly, we believe he … well, he overdosed. And now, he’s dead.”
Every bit of air leaves my lungs, and I collapse into a chair. “I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?”
I must have heard him wrong. He couldn’t have just told me that Van was dead. Gone. Forever.
“We got an anonymous tip that someone at your brother’s address needed assistance. When we got there … he had passed away. We tried to use Narcan, but unfortunately, it was too late.” He exhales into the phone. “I am so sorry, Poppy. But we need you to come down to the station.”
“What for?” I blurt out, not even knowing what I’m saying. Or how I’m even forming words.
“Though we know it’s Van, because of protocol, we need someone to identify him.” There’s a short pause. “I know it’s an incredibly hard thing to ask you to do. And for that, I apologize.”
“You want me … to come look at my brother.” I stop, feeling like I might throw up. “My dead brother. At the police station. Right now.”
“If you can, we really would appreciate it.” I can hear how awful he feels in his voice, but that doesn’t make it better. “Some people need to see it before they can believe it. Before … their brains will allow them to understand it.”
I should cry, but I don’t. It hurts, but also feels a lot like nothing. My head just feels dizzy. And I can’t organize my thoughts for the life of me.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” I mutter. “I need to catch the bus there first.”
I end the call, hoping that Jasmin didn’t hear any of it. And when I see she’s taking someone’s order, I pull my apron off.
“I have a family emergency,” I mutter. “Can you close tonight?”
Nodding, she gives me a concerned look. “Is everything okay?”
“Not really,” I utter and turn away from her.
Maybe it’s not him. Maybe … they’re mistaken.
“Are you sure you don’t need a ride somewhere?” the officer says.
Shaking my head, I cross my arms over my chest, almost hugging myself. “No. Thanks.”
I came here tonight, hoping that it was someone else. Knowing that would mean another sister, mother, or friend had lost a loved one. Selfishly, I just didn’t want it to be my brother.
But it was. It was Van. The same person who had come into the world at the same time I did. The one who usually knew what I was thinking before even I did. My twin.
When I walked in there to identify his body, I looked at his face. And the craziest part about it was that for the first time in years …
He looked peaceful.
And for a split second, I was happy that he had found that feeling. A feeling of harmony that he and I had never really had the chance to find. And I told myself that maybe, just maybe … he was in a better place. A place that wasn’t so hard. And so sad and heartbreaking.
But then I’m hit with the cold, harsh reality that my brother is dead. And I can’t help but think of how it all seems like such a waste, that he threw it all away.
Because now, my brother will never get better. He’ll never go to college. He’ll never get married or have kids. I’ll never get to be an aunt to his children and get the chance to spoil them rotten. And if I have kids, they’ll only hear stories about their uncle Van. But they’ll never know that before he went down the road of darkness, he was a boy who loved to cook. Who loved to make people smile. Someone who was a good friend and an even better brother.
It’s such a waste of life. And so sad and vain.
Yet, somehow, when I let the dark parts of my brain take over … I envy him the slightest bit.
He doesn’t have to feel this pain that’s been coursing through my veins since I was born. The kind of pain that makes it exhausting to just get through the day. He doesn’t have to ignore the voice inside my head, constantly telling me I’m not worthy of love and affection, which is why I’ve never been given it.
He’s free of this stabbing sensation in my heart that I’ve carried for so long, always trying to just … block it out. To dance harder. To be tougher. To not let anything or anyone get under my skin. Never show my weakness. To hurt before I can be hurt. To not give a shit that my mother didn’t want me. Or that my father doesn’t love me. And that, aside from Jake, I’ve lost everyone I have ever cared about.
I will never hug Van again. I’ll never get to pray that he gets better. Nothing.
And while he’s resting peacefully, no longer in pain, I’m here.
I’m here, stuck in a place that has done nothing but take since the day I was born.
After finding out that Van’s death was going to be investigated and that agents were sweeping his house, I knew what I needed to do next. It will be a long walk to Brooks and the arena, but I need to catch Cade before he leaves for the night. Before he goes to Van’s.
***
Walker
I push through the door, my duffel bag slung over my shoulder, just as Coach sticks his head out of his office. “A word, James?”
My heart speeds up, and I panic, immediately thinking it’s something to do with Huff and LaConte is going to ask me what I know. But instead, he looks … happy.
I take a seat across from him, my knee bouncing. “Yeah, Coach?”
“Nothing is set in stone, and I didn’t want to tell you this before the game tonight because I was afraid it’d mess with your head.” He pauses, cupping his chin with his fingers. “The New England Bay Sharks called yesterday, asking a lot of questions about you. Word on the street is, their center is retiring real soon.” He sits back, pressing his back against his chair harder. “That’s a good team they’ve got up in Maine, son. I think that’d be a great opportunity for you.”
“Are you serious?” I whisper, my head beginning to spin.
He nods curtly. “I am. But like I said, nothing is set in stone, so please don’t get your hopes up or send out cards, telling the whole damn campus.” The corner of his lip turns up in a crooked grin. “But you’re on their radar, James. And that’s something to celebrate right there.”
“Thank you, Coach.” I push myself to stand. “Am I free to go?”
I don’t want him to feel like I’m rushing out of here. Especially when he just told me this news—which, even if it’s not a done deal, is huge. But I really need to talk to Cade. And something tells me I need to hurry because he’s going to rush out of here like he always does.
“Go on.” He waves toward the door. “Don’t be celebrating our win tonight too hard tonight though, you hear?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
I quickly bolt out of his office and head toward the exit, knowing I’m probably too late. Because not only did I talk to LaConte for a few minutes, but Cade also somehow finished interviews before me, so the chances that he’s left are already high. But I need to talk to him. I need to confront him on what I know.
That he has ties to Van Wilson.
Walking out of the locker room, I make my way toward the arena’s exit. My steps come to a stop when I watch Cade hug Poppy, both of them as pale as ghosts. He holds on to her for a moment, and I can read her body language like a book. Something is wrong. She’s upset.
Slowly, he releases her, and she says something else to him before she bolts through the doors and rushes outside. Cade follows but heads straight to his truck.
Rushing outside, I look around to see where she went. I know she wouldn’t be walking anywhere this late other than home. So, after throwing my bag in the back of my truck, I take off running.
Within a minute, I see her. She’s walking along the dirt path down the dimly lit hill. Her hood is up, hiding her hair, but I know it’s her.
“Poppy?” I call out.
Her shoulders tense, but she doesn’t turn. Within a few seconds, she starts sprinting, trying her best to get away from me.
“What the fuck?” I groan, chasing her down.
She’s quick, but her legs are a helluva lot shorter than mine are. And it’s no time when I come up behind her and throw her over my shoulder.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yell. “Why are you running away from me like a fucking crazy person?”
Kicking her legs and flailing her arms, she acts like a damn wild animal.
Then again, that’s what Poppy has always reminded me of—a coyote in society. Mean. Dangerous. But also slightly misunderstood.
Coyotes don’t redeem themselves after they’ve eviscerated other animals. Because if you give them long enough, they’ll just do it again. Maybe she can’t be redeemed either.
“Stop fighting me, my fucking God, Pop,” I hiss, tightening my grip on her ass to still her. “Cut the shit. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Chasing after me in the fucking dark and then throwing me over your shoulder is a weird way of showing it, asshole!” she growls. “Put. Me. Down!”
“If I put you down, will you talk to me?”
She stills, huffing out a breath. “What do you want to talk about, Walker? What could you possibly have to say?”
“What were you and Huff talking about?” I say into the darkness, holding her body over my shoulder.
“None of your business,” she snaps. “He’s my friend. You are not.”
“The look on your face tonight, it was … different,” I whisper.
She grows silent. “Yeah, well, not like you’d care, but I guess having to identify your twin brother’s body will probably do that.” She begins flailing again. “Put. Me. Down.”
Immediately, I set her down, but I keep my hands planted on her waist. “Van is dead?” I barely get the words out of my mouth, my throat burning.
“Don’t act sad about it,” she snarls. “We all know you didn’t give a damn about him.”
“That’s not true.” I shake my head quickly. “That isn’t true, and you know it.”
Her eyes narrow, staring at me like I’m a monster. “I don’t know anything when it comes to you. I knew Walker James, the boy down the street who was my best friend. The one who took away my pain and knew the right thing to say to make everything better.” She eyes me up and down before exhaling. “The guy in front of me? He’s just a stranger.”
“It’s still me, Poppy,” I say through gritted teeth. Out of nowhere, tears blur my vision. “I’m still me. And I’m right here.”
She looks up at me, and I watch her face soften as she looks for any sign that I’m full of shit. But the moment is gone as quickly as it came, and suddenly, she’s shoving her hands into my chest, pounding on my body as haunting screams come from her lips.
“You aren’t the same, and you know it!” Every word she yells at me is filled with anger. “You weren’t there for him! He loved you. You were his best friend. And you left!”
She continues beating her fists into my chest. And I let her. Because her brother just died. And because I’m a fucking failure, she had to identify his body alone.
She had to see her brother—her fucking twin brother—lifeless on a table.
Nausea hits me, but I push the thought down of needing to puke. Right now, I need to be whatever she needs. Even if what she needs is a literal punching bag. For her, I’ll be it.
She’s so close to losing it. I know she’s about to fall apart. Years of shit she’s tried to push down is going to come to the surface, mixing in with the death of Van.
I’m scared for her. Who can stand pain like that?
“We needed you! And you left!” she screams, almost like she’s no longer controlling her actions. “He had no one!” Her movements begin to grow weaker as exhaustion kicks in. “I. Had. No one.”
It happens. The tears start, and her voice breaks. Her shoulders slump, and her body sinks. But before she can fall into a pile on the sidewalk, I hold her up.
“I’m so tired of having no one,” she cries, letting herself fall against my chest.
Wrapping my arms around her, I cradle her. “Shh,” I mutter against her hair.
Her body quivers against mine. I can tell she’s tired. Why wouldn’t she be? I’m sure this has been the most emotionally draining night of her life.
“Come home with me, Poppy,” I say softly. “I don’t want you to be alone right now.”
“No.” She quickly shakes her head, though she doesn’t pull away.
“The guys are both gone tonight. You can go back to hating me in the morning.” I keep my cheek firmly against her temple. “But tonight, please, just stay with me.” I pause. “Let me be your somebody tonight. The way I should have been all along.”
The night is so quiet as she lays her body against mine. Finally, she pulls back slightly, wiping her cheeks with the sleeve of her hoodie. “Okay,” she whispers. “But only for tonight.”
Slowly, I pick her up. Tucking her head to my chest, I carry her in my arms and start back toward the arena.
Sometimes, things just need to fall apart before they can fully come together. I’m ready for us to finally fucking be together now. Because it seems like there’s nothing else that could possibly fall apart.
****
Poppy
Everything hurts. My eyes, from crying. My head, from hyperventilating. And my heart, because my brother is dead. And I did nothing to help him. The last time we talked, I wasn’t even that nice.
And then there’s the worst part: I have to tell Jake—my sweet, sensitive brother—that his only brother is gone. Because if I don’t, who else will?
I decide I’ll tell the news to him in the morning after I’ve processed it and figured out my emotions.
And as much as I hate to, I need to call the prison so that someone can tell Ron too. He’s the last person I’m worried about knowing, but Van never gave up on him for whatever reason. In fact, they had weekly phone calls.
Probably to talk about the family drug business. Yes, very important matters.
I stand under the shower for God knows how long. I never thought I’d be here, in Walker’s shower, with a pile of his clothes on the bathroom counter for me to sleep in. Yet here I am.
Other than Jake, Walker is the only other familiar person I have.
Which sucks.
Squeezing the excess water out of my hair, I turn the water off and step out. Drying myself off, I comb my hair out the best I can with my fingers and pull on his Wolves sweatpants and T-shirt.
I swipe a circle in the mirror, wiping the fog away with my hand, and look at myself. My eyes are swollen and red, and my cheeks are blotchy. I look as bad as I feel. But I have a feeling I need to get used to it because I’ll probably feel this way for a while.
Crying for the first time in years really took its toll on me. I’m ready to go back to not feeling. Or trying to pretend like I don’t.
My hand grabs the doorknob and twists it open. If I were in my right mind, I’d probably be anxious right now, walking into a room with one bed and Walker James, likely shirtless. But right now, everything is numb. And the last thing I feel is nervous.
There he sits, on the edge of the bed. His shirt is very much on with a pair of basketball shorts. Even in such a dark time, my heart skips a beat as I take him in. He’s that guy who, when he walks past you, you do a double take.
When he sees me coming out of the bathroom, he stands. “You can say no, but I’d really like to sleep in here. With you.” He takes a few steps toward me. “But if you aren’t comfortable with that, I can sleep on the couch in the living room.”
His living room is tiny. Though the dorms for the hockey and football players are still a heck of a lot bigger than average dorms. But I saw the couch. I’m not sure he’d even fit, fully stretched out.
I shouldn’t care. But for some reason, I do.
Or maybe it’s just because I want him next to me, just like when we were kids.
“It’s fine.” I walk past him, sitting on the opposite side I saw him on.
I don’t know when it happens—I couldn’t say the exact second—but suddenly, the air between us is thick. And when his eyes find mine, I suck in a shaky breath, even knowing that it’s an inappropriate time to be looking at him the way that I am.
He runs his hand down the back of his neck uneasily. “Do you, uh … need anything from me tonight? Some water? Or a sweatshirt to sleep in?”
Swallowing thickly, I give him a small shake of my head and look down. “No, I don’t need water. Or a sweatshirt.” Raising my eyes to his again, I bite my bottom lip anxiously. “I need something else. Something … to numb the pain.”
He looks uneasy. “What’s that?” he rasps.
“You,” I whisper, more tears flowing down my cheeks. “Please, Walker. Make it stop hurting.”
Slowly, he walks toward me. Each step, it’s almost like he knows he shouldn’t be taking it. And when he reaches me, he crouches down to my level. “Poppy, I’d give you anything in the world. All you have to do is ask.” He stops, looking down and sighing before his eyes reach mine again. “But I want you to be sure. I didn’t bring you here tonight for anything other than to just be here for you.” This time, a tear falls from his eye, going down his cheek. “The way I should have been all along.”
Reaching for the hem of his shirt that I’m wearing, I pull it from my body and toss it on the bed next to me. He drags in a shaky breath before closing his eyes.
“Poppy … what are you—”
“Open your eyes, Walker,” my voice croaks, my throat raw from crying. And screaming. “Please. Look at me.”
Gradually, his eyes flutter open, but he stares at my face, not so much as looking down at my chest.
“Am I that awful to look at?” I whimper. “Am I so skinny that it repulses you?”
His hand cups my cheek. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my entire life,” he whispers. “But right now, you’re hurting.”
Now, I lean forward, and without permission, I pull his shirt over his head. And when he stands in front of me, I press my palm to his abdomen.
“Please, Walker. Fix me,” I whimper. “I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take this pain.”
“I want to, Poppy. So fucking bad that it hurts,” he barely whispers. “But I don’t know if this is the way. And I don’t want you to wake up and regret this in the morning.”
“If you ever cared about me at all, you’ll do this for me.” My lip trembles. “I’ll never ask for anything again. I just … need something to make it better.” I swallow back more emotion. “It hurts so fucking bad. Everything hurts.”
“Tell me what you need,” he says, and through his jeans, I watch the bulge grow harder.
“For you to make me forget. For a little while.”
He’s still for a moment before, finally, he leans forward. Sliding his hands to my waist, he moves me further up the bed. His fingertips go to my waistband, and he slowly tugs the sweatpants from my body, leaving me completely bare.
“I’m going to taste you if that’s okay,” he says so softly. “I want you to relax. This is for you. But if you feel uncomfortable or need me to stop, just say the word. Okay, baby?”
I’m so scared, yet I want this so bad. But this is my first time being with anyone. And that’s embarrassing enough to tell him. And then there’s the other part of me that feels so completely messed up for wanting this right now. At a time like this.
“Has anyone ever tasted you, Poppy?” He climbs over me, bringing his lips to mine first.
He kisses me, his mouth tasting like mint as his tongue slowly teases against mine.
“N-no,” I say, embarrassment filling my body.
It’s almost as if realization hits him, and he stills. “Have you ever been with anyone?”
When I don’t answer right away, he kisses my forehead. “Just want to make sure I’m gentle, baby. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’re the only person I’ve ever even kissed,” I blurt out before bringing my hands to my face to cover myself up.
Pulling my hands down, he kisses me again. “Do you feel how fucking hard my dick is right now, Poppy? And it just got harder because I’m your first.” He stops, his voice growing thicker. “You want me to be your first?”
“Yes,” I utter, but then I realize that Cade Huff was actually my first kiss. Even though it was fake and all for show. And looking back, I truthfully can’t believe I kissed him at the bar that night, all to make a point. And I completely wasted my first kiss on … well, him. “Welp, actually … Cade was my first kiss,” I mutter. “But … he doesn’t really count.”
His eyes burn into mine, and I can feel how annoyed my words have made him. “You gave your first kiss to Huff?” His voice is low.
“Well, yeah. But … it was only to prove to him that the girl he likes cares.” I pause. “And pissing you off in the process, well, that wasn’t so bad either.”
“I’m pissed that Huff was your first kiss and not me,” he utters.
Moving his kisses to my neck, he sucks gently at first, then harder. He moves down my body to my collarbone, kissing his way across it. And when he gets to my breast, I can’t stop the moan that rips from my lips. His tongue feels so good, but I’m terrified for him to go down … there.
He kisses his way down my stomach before he presses his lips to each of my hip bones. “You’re so perfect, Poppy.”
I’ve always been self-conscious about my weight. I’m scrawny. I’m a dancer, but I also have never had the privilege of stuffing my face with three meals a day. Even now, that’s not easy to do with work, dance, and school. Not to mention always being low on cash.
But right now, I don’t feel like the scrawny girl. I feel … beautiful and desired.
His tongue moves between my legs, and again … I moan. He goes slow at first, and my hands can’t help but tangle into his hair, pushing him deeper and harder.
This feels like … heaven. Whatever he’s doing with his mouth and the movements with his tongue … I feel like I’m falling into this mattress, spinning into oblivion. His thumb brushes along what is apparently my most sensitive spot, rubbing small circles. And I’m gone, losing myself to him.
My entire body succumbs to his mouth, and my brain goes dark. I can’t tell you how long I stay in this state of euphoria, but when I come to, he’s slowly climbing his way back up my body.
“Was that okay?” he asks, his eyes uneasy. “I hope I didn’t take it too far.”
“It … was … perfect,” I whisper before I part my legs further and wrap them around his waist. “Fuck me, Walker. Be my first.”
He sucks in a breath, and his cock presses into my thigh. Kissing my forehead, he widens his eyes. “Are you sure, Poppy? It doesn’t have to be tonight.” He blinks a few times. “I’ll wait for you for as long as it takes.”
“It has to be tonight,” I say quickly. Knowing that there won’t be any other time. This can’t continue.
But tonight, I just need an escape. And maybe it’s not right to use him this way, but he’s the only one who can make it better.
Arching my back off the bed, I bring my mouth to his. Not really caring that his mouth was just between my legs. Snaking my hand between us, I palm his dick and slide my hand back and forth, making him moan.
“I need to get a condom,” he says against my lips. “Jesus, Poppy. I’ve wanted this for so long.”
“I have an IUD. I got it a long time ago, just in case.” I tighten my legs around him. “Please, Walker, I don’t want you to wear a condom. I just want … all of you.” I sniffle. “Just this once.”
***
Walker
Maybe I’m a bad guy for going down on her and now taking the virginity of a girl who just lost her brother. But she fucking begged me. And how the hell was I supposed to say no?
I could have come just from eating her tight pussy. The way she squeezed my tongue as her hips thrust against my face. She wanted every ounce of that orgasm she could get. She fucked my face till the bitter end.
Slowly, I push the tip of my dick inside of her heat. Right away, I’m whimpering because she feels so fucking good.
How the hell am I going to last long enough to make this good for her?
“It’s going to hurt a little, but because you’re dripping wet, that’ll help,” I tell her, looking down at her pretty face. “But if it’s too much, just tell me.”
“Okay,” she whispers, keeping her death grip on my waist with her legs.
“Promise me, you’ll say,” I growl this time.
“Yes.” She nods. “I promise.”
“Good girl,” I praise her, and I swear she gets even wetter.
Gradually, I begin to push more and more of myself into her. She hisses, sucking in a breath, but she doesn’t indicate that she wants me to stop.
I can’t fuck her as hard as I’d like to tonight. That’ll take a few more times before I’ll even consider that. I want tonight to be about her. And that starts with her being comfortable.
“Christ, Poppy. You feel so good,” I grunt, working only about half of my length inside of her, and already, I’m struggling not to blow my load. “You’re doing so good, baby.”
Her nails dig into my back, and she drives her face into my neck. She’s crying now, making me instantly stop moving as I crane my head to look at her.
“Don’t stop,” she whimpers before angling her face toward mine.
One look in her eyes, and my heart fucking shatters.
“Kiss me,” she sobs.
Bringing my lips to hers, I kiss her soft, plump lips as I gently pump in and out of her.
“Harder,” her voice squeaks.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I murmur against her lips, my forehead on hers. “I’ve already done that too many times.”
I watch tears gather in her eyes and roll down her cheeks.
“I want it to hurt. It takes my mind off my life,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “This kind of pain … it’s better than the other kind.”
There’s no universe where I’d fuck Poppy full force on a night like tonight, never mind the fact that she’s a virgin. But I’ll do my best to give her what she wants. And slowly, I begin feeding more of my cock inside of her, each pump a little faster.
She cries harder but holds my body closer to hers, kissing me rougher.
“I’m sorry,” I say, kissing her lips. “I’m so fucking sorry, Poppy.”
She digs her fingertips into my back, hugging me tighter.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you.” I kiss her again, feeling her pussy start to tighten around me, sending my balls into a tailspin.
“Walker,” she whimpers.
“Let go, baby. Let go of it all and come undone for me.”
I move my head down, kissing her neck as my seed spills inside of her, and she moans, coming on my cock. Her nails make my flesh damn near bleed.
Her chest heaves, a mixture of moans and cries leaving her mouth, all at the same time, as she comes back down from her orgasm.
I want to tell her I love her. That I’ve loved her since we were kids and that I’ve never stopped loving her. But tonight isn’t about what I want. It’s about getting her through the toughest day of her life.
And being the man she once thought I was.