Chapter Thirteen #2
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Rosaline teased, and then her mouth was back on Poppy, tongue dipping inside her, curling, avoiding
Poppy’s clit, driving her crazy.
Poppy mewled and pressed back against her face, one hand rising to steady herself against the mirror. “Please.”
Teeth bit into the swell of her ass making her startle, air leaving her lungs. “What did I say, Poppy?”
Her tongue swiped at her bottom lip, mouth dry as she panted. Rosaline had said a lot of things. A lot of really spine-melting,
mind-bending, amazing things. Put on the spot, she couldn’t recall a single one.
She hissed through her teeth when Rosaline bit her on the other cheek, hard enough to sting, maybe even to bruise. She hoped
it did.
The ache between her thighs grew more insistent, impossible to ignore.
Rosaline tutted softly. “I told you to keep your hands on the table, baby.”
Baby. As if her brain wasn’t short-circuited already. “Sorry.”
Two of Rosaline’s fingers slipped through her folds, sliding inside of her, making her breath hitch. “You can be patient for
me, can’t you? Just a little longer?”
She trembled, elbows locked, arms quaking. “Uh-huh.”
Her fingers dragged almost all the way out before sliding back in, slow little thrusts that made Poppy curl her toes in the rug, trying hard, so hard to keep from squirming and pressing back, riding Rosaline’s hand, rushing her along.
With her other hand, Rosaline reached between Poppy’s legs to strum her clit and she pumped her fingers insider her a little
faster. “You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart.”
A choked sob slipped out, something inside her chest loosening at the praise.
Rosaline swore on a harsh exhale and then her mouth was back on Poppy, warm and wet, licking from where she was dripping all
the way up to—fuck, Rosaline’s tongue swept right over her hole, circling her rim slowly before pressing, spearing Poppy with the very tip of
her tongue.
She couldn’t help it then, arching and rocking back, riding Rosaline’s fingers, her face. Desperate.
“Good,” she praised, fingers speeding, curling down and pressing hard, drawing desperate little mewls from Poppy’s lips. She
pressed a kiss to Poppy’s ass cheek. “You’re so close. I can feel your cunt fluttering around my fingers.”
Pressure built and she pressed her face against the crook of her elbow, spots dancing behind her lids each time she closed
her eyes.
Even if it killed her, she refused to tip over the edge. Not until—
“Whenever you want, okay?” Rosaline whispered, teeth grazing her skin as she curled her fingers harder, faster. “Don’t hold
back.”
Everything inside her drew impossibly tight and with one more curl of Rosaline’s fingers pressing against that perfect spot,
the dam inside her burst, pleasure ripping through her so good she could hardly stand it.
“That’s it,” Rosaline soothed, letting up on her clit, fingers thrusting a few more times, languid, before easing them from Poppy’s cunt. Almost immediately, Poppy’s knees buckled, and Rosaline laughed, not unkindly, as Poppy sagged to the floor in a spent, satiated heap. “Are you all right?”
Poppy blew her hair out of her face and looked over her shoulder. Rosaline was kneeling, eyes bright beneath half-mast lids,
a smug smile playing at the edges of her lips.
It took her a minute to find her voice. “You know,” she panted. “When we talked on the phone last week and you said you were
going to put me on my knees, I didn’t think you meant like this.”
Rosaline chuckled and banded an arm around Poppy beneath her breasts, dragging her back against Rosaline’s chest. “The night’s
young.”
Her heart skipped. “Sounds like you have plans for me.”
“I did tell you I have a plethora of ideas of what I want to do to you, did I not?”
Her breath, just barely having slowed, quickened, her interest piqued. “A plethora, huh?”
“One might even go so far as to say a surplus,” Rosaline confirmed, pressing her lips to the hinge of Poppy’s jaw. “I highly
doubt we’ll be able to get through even a fraction of them before the sun comes up.”
That just meant there would need to be a next time. “Out of curiosity—do all of these ideas of yours take place just inside
your front door?”
Rosaline drew back, one brow arching imperiously. “Are you complaining about what we just did?”
The idea was so ludicrous she couldn’t help but laugh. “Not in the slightest.” The rug under her was softer than some couches she’d slept on. But she wouldn’t mind seeing the rest of Rosaline’s house. The bedroom, mostly. “I was just wondering what was on the agenda for the rest of the evening.”
“Agenda?” Rosaline asked, hauling herself to standing. Poppy stayed down, unsure if she even could stand, knees still weak. “You make it sound like I put together an actual schedule.”
“Ten to ten fifteen, fuck Poppy in the foyer,” she teased. “Check.”
Rosaline’s eyes crinkled at the corners, an amused smile tugging at her mouth. “Oh, please. I’m not that anal.”
She had barely opened her mouth to make a joke when Rosaline, as if sensing what she was about to say, reached down and pressed
a finger to her lips, effectively shushing her. Her eyes narrowed, lips twitching, clearly holding back a smile even if she
didn’t want Poppy to see it. “That was low-hanging fruit. Don’t even.”
“You have no idea what I was about to say,” she protested playfully.
Rosaline’s hand cradled Poppy’s jaw. “What I know is that you are entirely too verbal for someone whose knees I just watched give out.”
“You’re resourceful.” She turned her head and pressed a kiss to Rosaline’s palm, looking up at her from beneath her lashes.
“I’m sure you can figure out a way to shut me up.”
If not, Poppy had an idea or twelve she’d be more than happy to share.
“Can you stand, or are your knees still too weak?”
“Yeah, yeah, yuck it up.” She took Rosaline’s hand when she offered it, helping Poppy up. “No one likes a braggart, Rosaline.”
Rosaline’s thumb swept against Poppy’s cheekbone.
There was a softness in her eyes, a tenderness to her smile, as she stared at Poppy, who had to have looked utterly debauched, tits out and dress hiked up around her waist, face undoubtedly flushed and sweaty and god knew what her makeup looked like now.
Yet Rosaline was looking at her like she was the prettiest thing in the room.
“You still trust me?” she asked.
A flippant joke on the tip of her tongue was swiftly swallowed, the look on Rosaline’s face a touch too earnest to be met
with humor.
“I do.”
Rosaline’s answering smile was resplendent, making Poppy’s stomach swoop with an intensity that stole her breath. Like she
was on a roller coaster headed down the drop, all she could do was hold on and enjoy the ride.
With an enviably steady hand, Rosaline cupped her jaw, tipping her chin down, her gaze flickering between Poppy’s eyes and
her lips. Poppy held her breath as Rosaline leaned in slowly, the distance between their faces dwindling, Poppy all but able
to taste the single glass of champagne Rosaline had drunk during the show, the sweet, sharp scent of it mixing with the tang
of Poppy’s arousal, clinging to Rosaline’s warm breath. It fanned against Poppy’s face, her lips, lips she parted in anticipation,
holding perfectly still save for the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
Rosaline’s lips pressed against Poppy’s, pillowy soft and hot. Her tongue swept across the seam.
Poppy’s lungs burned and her knees shook, threatening to give out again. Rosaline tore her mouth away with a gasp, chest rising
and falling against Poppy’s.
“I have an idea,” Rosaline said as if she hadn’t just turned Poppy’s world on its head, kissing her like she was starving
for it. Starving for her.
“Am I going to like this idea?” she asked, following Rosaline past what looked like a formal living room and down another hall.
“I know I am,” Rosaline said, stopping in front of the first door on the left, reaching inside, flipping on the light. She
gestured Poppy to go in ahead of her. “You,” she said, laughing, “are either going to love it or hate it.”
Her heart pounded. That sounded . . . ominous? Promising? She couldn’t be sure. “Do I get a hint at least?”
Like the rest of the house, what she’d seen of it, Rosaline’s bedroom was outfitted in rich jewel tones. The walls were painted
a moody shade of teal, the tray ceiling too, and an amethyst-colored rug covered the dark hardwood floor. In the center of
the room, against the wall, was a magnificent brass four-poster bed made up simply with a plush-looking emerald duvet Poppy
wanted to roll around on.
Rosaline swept Poppy’s hair over her shoulder and reached for the zipper at the middle of her back. “I’ll do you one better
and tell you everything.” She lowered the zipper the rest of the way, satin pooling around Poppy’s feet. “How’s that?”
Anticipation all but made her vibrate. “I’m listening.”
Rosaline’s breath ghosted against the shell of her ear. “First, I want you to go lie down. Middle of the bed, on your back.
Get comfortable. Think you can do that?”
In that bed? She didn’t see how she couldn’t get comfortable. “I don’t know,” she teased, padding across the room and kneeling onto the bed. She crawled toward the mountain
of pillows piled at the headboard and flopped onto her back, doing as Rosaline had asked, getting comfortable. “That was quite the Herculean task.”
From the doorway, Rosaline looked at Poppy, eyes sweeping over her from head to toe, gaze hot and hungry. “See, you joke now,
but in ten—hell, five—minutes you’re not going to be laughing.”
“If I’m not laughing,” she asked, sitting up slightly, propped on her elbows, watching as Rosaline reached for and undid the single button that held her suit jacket together, “what am I going to be doing?”
“I’d say screaming.” Rosaline shrugged the jacket off her shoulders and down her arms, letting it fall to the floor, forgotten.
“But your mouth is going to be otherwise occupied.”
Poppy’s mouth went dry.