Chapter 32
brOOKES
Ijust came harder than I’ve ever come from jerking off before. And even now, as I shut off the water and step out of the shower, my eyes fixed on Poppy as she grins dopily, slumped back on the bathroom counter, my dick is hard again. Or still. Hell, I don’t even know.
Drying off, I wrap the towel around my waist before closing in on her and standing between her still parted legs.
I drag my fingers up and down her soft thighs before wrapping them around her wrist and bring her hand to my lips.
Then, staring directly into her heavy-lidded eyes, I suck her fingers into my mouth, groaning at the taste of her left lingering there.
“That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to the backs of her fingers. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”
Poppy sits up at my praise, leaning into me, and I cup her flushed cheeks, pressing a soft, featherlight kiss to her lips before gliding my tongue inside her warm, sweet mouth and reveling in the way she moans when I claim her.
The way she’s wriggling, grinding her hips, searching for more, I’m starting to think that I could possibly make her come from kissing alone.
“Tell me what you want, Pops,” I murmur against her lips. “What do you need?”
“I need… more.” She whimpers. “You.”
I pull back, arching a brow when she looks up at me. “You want me?”
She nods, and I close my eyes, releasing a shuddering breath, trying not to overanalyze the way her words affect me. Is she talking about me or my cock? And which one do I want her to be talking about? I mean, obviously my cock, but maybe me too? Fuck, I don’t know.
Moving my hands from her cheeks down to her hips, I lift her up off the counter, her thick thighs instinctively wrapping around me, and kissing her slow and hard, I carry her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.
I climb onto the bed, breaking our kiss only to let Poppy down. She kneels in front of me, and then, with my eyes on hers, I inch the hem of her t-shirt slightly higher, knowing she’s completely bare underneath.
“Is this okay?”
She nods quickly, but I see the way her throat works with a thick swallow.
Pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her cheek, I lift her t-shirt up all the way and she raises her arms over head, allowing me to take it off.
Tossing the t-shirt off to the side of the room, I sit back on my haunches, rubbing my chin as I admire her.
And while I try not to ogle like a creep, it’s proving hard.
She’s magnificent—like a Botticelli come to life—all perfectly soft skin and curves.
“Fuck, you’re—” I press my lips together, stopping myself. Pretty. Beautiful. Perfect. All three. Neither word seems sufficient right now. She’s everything and then some.
Poppy smiles shyly, and it causes my heart to hitch.
But then, her smile turns devious as her hands find my towel, tugging hard enough for it to unravel.
I toss it off and then I’m on her, flanking her until she’s forced back onto the bed, her hands gripping my shoulders as I make a home for my hips between her thighs.
Claiming her lips, I thrust my tongue into her mouth, reveling in her moans, my hand moving down her side, stopping at her breast. Finding her nipple, my thumb and forefinger tease the stiff bud, circling it and pinching hard enough to cause her to arch her back with a sexy, throaty groan.
I break our kiss, peppering my lips down her jaw, her throat, her chest, needing her nipple in my mouth more than I need air in my lungs, and watching her, I lay my tongue flat, licking the perfect peak before wrapping my lips around it and sucking.
I play with her other nipple, noticing the way she moves, picking up on the sounds she makes, and I fucking love that she loves it.
Grazing one nipple with my teeth and then moving to the other I do the same, dragging my tongue between the both of them, pushing them together and burying my face between.
“I’m going to fuck these tits one day,” I growl against her soft skin. Meeting her eyes, I lift one brow. “And then I’m gonna come all over them.”
Poppy sucks in a gasp, her eyes flaring with unabashed lust.
“But right now,” I continue, kissing my way back up her body. “I need to be inside you.” Shifting my hips, I grind my length against her dripping pussy. “This pretty cunt has been taunting me all damn day.”
Breathing hard, Poppy closes her eyes, fingers tangling through the damp lengths of my hair as my lips graze the shell of her ear. “I was tested when I went into rehab, and I haven’t been with anyone since.”
When she doesn’t respond or acknowledge me in any way, I pull back enough to gauge her, but confusingly, she won’t open her eyes, and it’s only then that I notice the small crease pinched between her eyebrows, notice that her trembling breaths become increasingly tight and shallow, like she’s fighting to breathe.
“Pops?”
Her eyes flutter open, but gone is the lust I witnessed flash in her gaze seconds ago. Now her eyes are full of what could only be described as fear, dazed and gleaming with unshed tears, and suddenly my heart feels as if it’s trapped in the back of my throat.
“Hey?” I cup her cheek, searching her eyes. “Come back to me.”
“Can you… can please get off me?” she asks, her shuddering voice so quiet, so hesitant like I might say no. And the raw fragility nearly cuts me in two.
I scramble to move off her as fast as I can, sitting up on my knees and looking down at her as she covers her face with shaky hands, curling in on herself.
“Poppy?” I ask, carefully placing my hand on her shoulder, shocked when I feel just how fast she’s breathing, like she’s on the verge of a panic attack. “Pops? Breathe, baby.”
At a loss, I search the space around us, for what I don’t know. Then, reaching down, I yank at the blanket on the end of the bed and pull it up and over her naked body.
She sniffles, and the sound is like a roundhouse kick straight to my sternum.
“Poppy, please look at me because I’m really starting to freak the fuck out,” I beg, my gaze raking up and down her body. “Did I… did I do something wrong?”
Instead of looking at me, Poppy rolls over onto her side and pulls her knees up to her chest so she’s in that same position she’s always sleeping.
And suddenly, it dawns on me that when she’s asleep—like she was that night when I woke her up from her nightmare in Tulsa—her body is curled in a ball like she’s in some sort of subconscious mode of defense.
Realizing I’m still buck-ass naked and that my cock hasn’t yet gotten the memo, I jump off the bed and move to my suitcase, grabbing a pair of boxer briefs and quickly pulling them on. Then, glancing at Poppy, I race out of the bedroom and grab a bottle of water from the bar, hurrying back.
“I’m here, Pops,” I say, climbing back onto the bed and sliding in behind her.
And placing my hand on her shoulder again, I rub gently up and down her arm. Because, I figure, if she won’t talk to me, then the least I can do is show her that I’m here, that I’m not going anywhere.
It’s well after midnight, but I can’t sleep.
Lying flat on my back, I’m staring up at the ceiling, one hand resting above my head, the other still touching Poppy’s shoulders.
Her breathing evened out eventually, and she fell asleep, but I’ve stayed right here the whole time because I can’t bear the thought of her waking up to find me not here, not after what happened earlier.
I’m still unconvinced I didn’t do something.
I’ve been racking my head for two hours trying to figure out what it is, and frankly, I feel like shit.
If I hurt her in any way, I’ll never forgive myself.
I would never intentionally hurt a woman.
God, the thought alone makes me feel sick to my stomach.
“Brookes?”
Snapping out of my thoughts, I turn my head, staring at Poppy’s shadowy outline, my brows knitting together.
“Pops?” I whisper, and unsure whether she’s awake or asleep, I gently squeeze her shoulder.
Poppy rolls over, turning to face me. She’s backlit by the muted light of the moon shining in through the sheers behind her, so I can’t make out her face, but I can feel her eyes on me.
“What is it?” I ask, rolling onto my side to face her.
Through the darkness, everything is amplified; I hear her swallow, hear the trembling breath she exhales. I think if I listened hard enough, I’d hear the thrum of her heart.
“Can I tell you something?” she whispers.
“You can tell me anything, Pops,” I whisper back.
Holding my breath, I wait for whatever it is she needs to tell me, but the longer she stalls, the more my anxiety starts to pique because I know, without a doubt, something is seriously wrong.
“Poppy?” I press cautiously, squeezing her shoulder again in a show of support.
“When I was fifteen,” she starts, her voice broken and so full of pain and torment, it’s heartbreaking. “I was… I was… raped.”
Poppy’s confession hangs heavily in the air, and the silence that follows is nearly deafening. I close my eyes, releasing a hard breath as anger roils like a slow burning fire deep in my chest.
Shit. I drag a hand down my face, taking a moment to consider myself. And then, when I realize this isn’t about fucking me, I shift closer to Poppy, wrapping my arm around her. I pull her closer and she comes willingly, pressed up against my chest.
“Fuck, baby, I-I’m so sorry,” I murmur into her hair, kissing the top of her head.
After a few silent beats, I feel her release a shuddering exhale, her body relaxing into me.
And then, with a deep breath, she continues.
“I was the only sophomore invited to this party. I felt so… cool.” She scoffs a bitter, humorless laugh, shaking her head to herself.
“But when I showed up, it was all just… guys. Senior guys. In Carter Stewart’s basement. ”
My stomach knots, but I say nothing, just wait for her to say more. Or not. This is all her.
“I should have left right away. I shouldn’t have stayed. I knew something was up. But when they told me to stay and have a drink with them… stupidly, I did.”
My arm tightens around her, because I fucking hate that she’s saying this, like she thinks she’s somehow responsible. But still, I keep my mouth shut and listen.
“That was the first time I’d ever had anything to drink. I didn’t know what it would do to me. I didn’t think two and a half drinks would make me that drunk.”
Two and a half drinks didn’t make her that drunk; I bet my life on the fact that those motherfuckers slipped her something.
“When I woke up, I was on the floor. I had no… no clothes on, and…someone was on top of me.” Another shudder racks through her, and I squeeze her a little, pressing another kiss to the top of her head.
“The boys were all laughing. I-I tried to scream, tried to fight, but one of them was holding me down by my shoulders, and his face was right there, and he was just… laughing at me… like it was funny.” A sob bubbles out of her, causing her to hiccup. “God, it hurt so much…”
I close my eyes tight, my jaw clenching to the point of pain.
“I… I don’t recall much after that,” Poppy continues. “I think maybe I passed out again. I don’t know. But I do remember walking home. It was dark and cold and… I was in so much pain. Every single step was agony. I could barely breathe.”
Steadying my breath in an attempt to placate my racing heart, I honestly can’t remember a time I’ve ever been this riddled with uncontainable rage.
“And then, suddenly it started snowing. And I’ve always loved the snow. Winter was my favorite time of year. But… after that night—” Poppy sniffles through another racking sob. “Now, I hate the fucking snow.”
“Did you tell anybody?” I ask after a beat. “The police.”
She nods. “I told everyone. And it was the worst time of my life. Possibly even worse than the rape itself. I was examined in front of multiple people, forced to tell the same story so many times, asked the same questions that made it seem like I was the one in the wrong.” She shakes her head.
“In the end, the detective looking into it pretty much said it was my word against theirs. He said that I’m the one who snuck out of my home, I’m the one who went to a party at a much older boy’s house.
And I’m the one who got blackout drunk. My mother wouldn’t press charges.
She never said it, but I think… I think she believed that it was my fault.
That, whatever happened, I was asking for it. ”
“What about your dad?” I grit, pissed off even more now because so help any son of a bitch who ever even tries to lay a goddamn finger on my kid. I’ll burn down the whole fucking world.
“My dad believed me, but…” She shakes head, dismissing whatever else she was about to say. And I know her father died, so I don’t push the topic.
“And this is why you don’t drink,” I say after a few moments.
“I don’t drink and I… haven’t had… sex… since that night.”
Suddenly, my mind flashes back to that day, with her shitty ex when he told me she was frigid, and that I’ll be lucky to get a blow job once a month. A newfound rage simmers beneath the surface of my skin, burning.
“Shit, Pops,” I mutter into her hair. “I’m sorry if you felt like I was pressuring you or anything like that. I’m so sorry, I—”
“No, Brookes, please don’t do that.” Poppy pulls back, looking up at me, and I see her eyes shine through the darkness, meeting mind.
“I wanted last night. I wanted tonight. And I thought I was ready. I thought I could do it. I just…” She shakes her head again, searching for the words. “Sometimes, it just—”
“It’s too much all at once?” I hazard.
“Yeah.”
I nod. “I know what that feels like.”
She looks at me for a long moment. “Can I tell you something else?”
I cup her cheek, tracing the curve of her bottom lip with the pad of my thumb. “Always.”
“Promise you won’t… freak out?”
I sniff a laugh. “Unless it involves the ocean, it takes a lot to scare me, Pops.”
She smiles, despite her tears. “You’re the first man I’ve ever felt safe with.”
Something tugs at my heart, and I lean in pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to her forehead. “I promise, you will always be safe with me, Poppy.”
“Thank you.” She sighs, and it shudders from the emotion that’s ravaged her. Moving in closer, she nestles against my chest, and I cuddle her tight, neither of us saying a word as sleep takes hold of us both.