Chapter 28
brOOKES
For a fucking penthouse suite, this couch sure is lumpy.
I’ve been tossing for hours trying to get comfortable, but it’s impossible.
I either have to bend my knees, or my legs hang over the arm, and then every time I try to turn, I almost roll right off the damn thing and onto the floor.
Honestly, the floor would probably be more comfortable; at least I could stretch out down there.
Huffing a hard breath, I lie on my back, pushing my hair off my face, and stare up at the ceiling.
It’s dark, but not quite dark enough, the light from the moon outside shining in through the cracks in the heavy drapes, providing a muted glow.
I check the time on my watch; I have to be awake in a few hours.
Fuck this couch, and fuck whatever asshole messed up my reservation.
With another hard exhale, I drag my hands down my face, considering whether or not I should just forgo sleep altogether and get up.
Maybe I could hit the hotel gym. Work out some of my frustration.
But who am I kidding? My frustration can’t be exhausted in any gym because it’s right here, on the other side of that goddamn wall.
Fuck, the way she looked in that dress. I was sporting a semi all night.
Those tits. I swear to God, any time I saw someone even glance in her general direction, the need to punch my fist through a wall was almost too much.
I was about ready to rip Jackson Taylor’s motherfucking head clean off when I saw him talking to her, fucking touching her.
The feral beast inside me was clawing its way out as I shouldered through the crowd to get there quick enough.
Fuck. I want her. I want her so damn bad it hurts. But I can’t. I know I can’t. For her sake as well as mine. But the fact that I know she wants me? This is torture. Inhumane fucking torture.
A soft click pulls me from my thoughts, and from the corner of my eye, I make out the door to the bedroom slowly open, my heart jumping up into the back of my throat when a shadowy figure appears.
I close my eyes, pretending I’m asleep because it’s the safest option. As Poppy pads quietly across the room to the bar, I only hope she doesn’t look too closely because of course my fucking cock is hard under the blanket pooled at my waist.
When I hear the fridge door open, I crack one eye, the dull glow of the refrigerator light illuminating Poppy, and holy fucking shit.
She’s wearing a nightie. A little skimpy fucking nightie.
The satin skims her body, the lace hem barely covering her ass, and I’m forced to close my eyes again, gritting my teeth, the hand resting above my head curling into a tight fist as my waning resolve starts to slip just out of reach.
I hear Poppy’s footsteps retreat back toward the bedroom, but then they stop and I hold my breath, my heart hammering when I hear her come toward me.
Her approach is slow and tentative, uncertain, and my nostrils involuntarily flare as her sweet scent tries to attack what little self-control I have left.
She’s right fucking there, standing above me. I can feel her eyes on me. Sense her.
“Are you awake?” she whispers so softly I almost miss it.
Don’t do it. Don’t you dare fucking do it, Brookes.
Swallowing hard, I don’t open my eyes as I rasp, “Truth or dare.”
Poppy’s breath shudders with her obvious surprise.
“You know the rules…” I whisper, eyes still closed.
“Dare.”
I open my eyes then, meeting hers through the darkness.
Lazily, my gaze roves down her body, noticing the way her tits heave with every one of her shallow, ragged breaths, her nipples hard as stone and pebbled through the thin satin.
Licking my lips, I force my eyes back up to hers, and although I know this is so against the rules, as much as I know this will only fuck everything up, I can’t stop myself as I gruff, “Dare you to kiss me.”
Poppy exhales again, and the way her breath tremors, it almost sounds like a whimper.
Staring into her dark, conflicted eyes, I move my hand from where it’s resting on my chest, tentatively wrapping it around her soft thigh. She sucks in a breath as I inch higher and higher, pushing up the sorry excuse for a nightie she’s wearing.
“Come on, Pops,” I croak out, offering her the hint of a cocky grin. “A dare’s a dare, remember?”
“Fuck it,” she breathes out, and then she leans down and her lips are on mine.
Cupping my jaw, Poppy sucks on my bottom lip for a few seconds, tentative, almost nervous, the tip of her tongue poking out just a touch.
I let her go, let her do whatever the hell she wants to do because right now, she’s in control.
I’ll give her whatever she wants, but she has to show me she really wants it, has to take it from me. This is all her.
When I feel her tongue trace the seam of my lips, I part mouth just enough to feel her explore a little farther.
She slides her tongue in a little more with each pass, and when she finds mine, I give her a touch more, kissing her back just enough to elicit another shuddered gasp, her fingers tangling into my hair, nails scratching my scalp as her tongue deepens, coaxing mine.
And it’s then, and only then, when I feel her open up, that I kiss her back fully, thrusting my tongue into her sweet mouth in a filthy way that makes her moan against my lips, and suddenly, it’s as if something inside her snaps, and it’s a beautiful fucking sight.
Our tongues dance as Poppy climbs over me, knees on either side of my hips.
With another hard gasp, she pulls away from my lips, and I see her eyes flare, her mouth falling when she feels how hard I am beneath the thin blanket that separates us, and it takes every grain of self-control that I have left inside me not to lose my ever-loving shit when I feel the warmth of her pussy grind against my dick.
I’m forced to bite down on my bottom lip, breathing hard through my nose, dragging my hands up and down her smooth thighs while I watch her as she barely moves over me.
Hands splayed against my chest, nails lightly scratching my skin, a soft moan slips from her swollen lips as she begins to pick up speed.
My hands move up her thighs, finding her soft hips, and I grab her a little firmer, encouraging her, moving my own hips to give her exactly what she needs.
“Oh,” she sighs out loud, her head falling back.
I push up enough, unable to stop myself, my mouth sealing around one of those perfect fucking nipples, sucking and licking it through the satin.
“Holy shit,” Poppy’s whispered sounds are hoarse, breathless, and raw.
Her fingers weave through my hair again, scratching me hard and holding me to her as I continue lavishing her needy nipples one at a time, and the scent of her arousal makes my mouth water with the need to taste her, my spit soaking the satin as I suck hard on the perfect buds.
“Take what you need, baby,” I gruff, trailing my tongue up over her chest, following the jutted curve of her throat, kissing and sucking her pulse point as her hips start to buck shamelessly hard and fast against me. “That’s it.” I breathe against her skin. “Good girl.”
“Oh, fuck.” She whimpers, her breaths catching in the back of her throat, and I can feel her body start to tremble, her orgasm beginning to crest.
I grab the back of her head and force her mouth to mine.
Kissing her hard and deep, I’m greedy, swallowing every one of her pretty sounds as she falls apart on top of me, my own groan tumbling into our kiss when my orgasm tears through me and I come so suddenly, so violently, harder than I’ve ever come before.
Slowly, Poppy pulls away from me, dragging her tongue over her kiss-swollen lips, her heavy-lidded eyes dazed as they scan my face, searching for what I don’t know.
And as we stare at one another, each of us panting for breaths we can’t quite catch, minutes pass, the air between us thick and heavy and fizzy, I don’t know much, but I know one thing for sure; there’s no going back.