Chapter Thirteen #3
Stunning and gorgeous and beautiful were fine words, apt even, but they didn’t do Rosaline justice. She was a work of art, a canvas of shimmering golden skin
and dark, delicate ink that wrapped around her arms, covering her from shoulder to wrist, a few smaller pieces on her ribs
and above her left breast, just over her heart.
Like Poppy, she’d foregone a bra, the plunging neckline of her suit jacket not allowing for one. Now, jacket discarded, she
was bare down to the waist, breasts full and high, no more than a handful and god did Poppy want her hands full.
“Did no one ever teach you it was impolite to stare?” Rosaline teased, crossing the room, hands dropping to the button of
her pants.
Poppy sputtered out a laugh. “Pot, kettle.”
Maybe she was gawking, but Rosaline had just been looking at Poppy like she wanted to unhinge her jaw and swallow her whole.
“Well, you’re going to give a girl a complex,” Rosaline said, sliding her pants over her hips and down her thighs, leaving
her in a pair of skimpy red underwear, a scrap of lace that left little to the imagination. A massive floral piece decorated
her side, ink curling around the jut of her hip and trailing down to nearly her knee, grayscale like the rest of her tattoos
and just as intricate. Poppy wanted to press her mouth to Rosaline’s skin, trace each and every swirl of ink on Rosaline’s
body with the tip of her tongue.
“I was thinking you’re more beautiful than any painting I’ve ever seen.” More riveting too.
Rosaline’s footsteps faltered and she blushed prettily. “You must not be much of an art connoisseur.”
Maybe not, but like she’d told Rosaline once before . . . “I know what I like when I see it.”
Her blush deepened, skin turning the most alluring shade of pink, a flush that swept along the crests of her cheeks and the
bridge of her nose. “You’re sweet.” She rounded the bed and crouched in front of her nightstand, setting her phone on it,
and opening the bottom drawer. “For what it’s worth, you’re prettier than any piece of artwork I’ve ever seen too.” Her smile
turned sly. “You’re even prettier when you come.”
Poppy waited with bated breath as Rosaline turned back to the nightstand, riffling inside the drawer.
Rosaline let out a soft aha! and rose from her crouch, a small, hot-pink egg vibrator in her hand.
“Here’s what I was thinking,” she said, crawling across the bed, kneeling beside Poppy. “Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.
I want to see you.”
She let her thighs fall open and drew her knees apart, going the extra mile, reaching down and spreading herself open.
Rosaline’s eyes darkened as she stared. “So fucking pretty.” She reached a hand between Poppy’s thighs, sinking three fingers
inside her heat, her thumb brushing Poppy’s clit. Poppy snapped her thighs together with a whimper.
“Sensitive?” Rosaline grabbed her knee, lifting and pressing it back, holding her open. She removed her thumb from Poppy’s
oversensitive clit and curled her fingers inside Poppy harder. “Is this okay?”
Her legs shook and she could hear how wet she was, the slick sounds coming from between her thighs making her flush to the roots of her hair. “What happened to me touching you?”
“Patience, Poppy.” Rosaline withdrew her hand, fingers sliding out of Poppy’s cunt leaving her bereft, making her whimper.
She reached for the egg vibrator and glided the silicone toy through Poppy’s folds. She pressed the vibrator inside of Poppy.
“Still okay?”
She wriggled atop the duvet. “Peachy.”
Rosaline rose up onto her knees, tongue sweeping across her lips hungrily. Her thumbs slid under the sides of her panties
and wiggled them down her thighs, revealing a dark, neatly trimmed thatch of curls that glistened in the light. “I was thinking
I’d spare your poor, weak knees,” she said, throwing Poppy a cheeky smile and tossing a leg over her, straddling her chest,
“and ride your face instead.”
Poppy’s mouth watered. Yes. That. She wanted that. She nodded quickly, eagerly, and reached out, skimming her hand up the
inside of Rosaline’s thigh, skin silky smooth under her fingers. “You come up with the best plans.”
“I thought you’d like it,” she said, and Poppy tried to drag her down, drag her closer, hands wrapping around her hips. Rosaline
covered Poppy’s hands with her own and smiled when she groaned impatiently. “You want to be good for me, don’t you?”
More than anything. “I do.”
Rosaline’s hips shifted restlessly above Poppy.
The insides of her thighs glistened with arousal.
“You’re going to make me come with that mouth I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since—” She shut one eye like she was thinking back, then huffed out a broken laugh, chin dropping to her chest. She raised her head, tongue swiping against her bottom lip before her mouth quirked in a small smile, her green eyes bright as she stared down at Poppy.
“Since you answered the phone and shushed me.”
She choked on a laugh. “I didn’t. I was—”
Rosaline pressed a finger to Poppy’s lips and arched a brow. “You are going to make me come with your mouth and until I do—” she reached for her phone, keyed in her passcode, and swiped at
the screen, “I am going to make you come. As many times as I want.”
Rosaline tapped the screen one more time and—
Poppy jolted, fingers spasming against Rosaline’s hips as the toy inside her flared to life, rumbling right against her G-spot.
Her mouth fell open.
Rosaline set her phone down beside her, within easy reach. “The battery is good for five hours of continuous use.” Rosaline
smiled deviously. “I made sure it was charged. Theoretically, I could make you come over and over and over again, if I wanted.”
Five hours of—Poppy groaned and dug her head into the pillow, fingers scrambling against the comforter for purchase. She was already half
out of her mind. Screw five hours; it wouldn’t take five minutes to drive her out of her mind entirely.
“For what it’s worth, I have the utmost faith that it won’t take you five hours to get me off.” Rosaline knee-walked farther
up the bed, setting her hands on the headboard. “How does all that sound?”
Poppy let out a slow, deliberate exhale and tried to relax. The vibrations weren’t intense, but they were distracting, jolts
of pleasure licking at her spine. As many times as Rosaline wanted. Christ. She hated to ask, but . . . “What if I can’t?
What if it’s—”
“Snap your fingers and everything stops,” Rosaline promised. “Otherwise, I’ll be the one to decide what you can handle.” With gentle fingers, she brushed the hair off Poppy’s forehead and tucked it behind her ears. “I’m still taking care of you, remember?”
She swallowed past the lump blossoming in her throat, doing her best to put the pressure building in her core out of her mind.
Without any friction on her clit, Poppy was trapped, stuck in a holding pattern, a state of limbo so close to the edge she
could taste it, but not close enough to fall off. She could always reach down and touch herself, but her clit was swollen
to the extent of almost hurting if she touched it. “Can I please make you come now?”
Rosaline shuddered softly, eyes slipping shut. “Well, seeing as you asked so nicely.”
Hands braced on the headboard, Rosaline widened her stance, hovering over Poppy’s face, so close, but so far and—
Fuck it. Patience fractured, Poppy surged up, the muscles of her stomach burning as she crunched forward slightly, burying
her face in Rosaline’s cunt, her nose in the neatly trimmed thatch of curls between her thighs. She ran the flat of her tongue
up Rosaline’s slit, giving her a broad lick.
A breathless laugh escaped Rosaline’s lips, hips jerking. “Jesus.”
Poppy turned her head, burying a smile against the crease of Rosaline’s thigh, the place where her leg met her body, her scent
here strong and perfect, perfume faint and fading, mingling with the smell of sex, all muted musk and clean sweat, making
Poppy’s mouth water and her head swim, dizzy with desire.
Hands wrapping around Rosaline’s thighs, skin soft and muscles firm beneath Poppy’s fingers, Poppy dragged her down, dragged
her close, tongue dipping inside her cunt, earning her the sweetest-sounding gasp for her trouble.
Rosaline had said she’d be the one to decide what Poppy could handle, but she had no idea the depths of Poppy’s desperation, how badly she wanted the full weight of Rosaline against her, wanted to be wholly and completely at her mercy, to show her just how good she could be, wanted, ached to hear Rosaline say the words.
With the tip of her tongue, she gave Rosaline’s clit a teasing lick.
“Your mouth.” Rosaline groaned. “I knew it would—would be, but I—I didn’t—” Her voice broke when Poppy wrapped her lips around the bundle
and sucked. A shudder wracked Rosaline’s body, her abdomen tensing, twitching. “Fuck.”
Inside her, the vibrator sped, the sudden change in intensity tearing a gasp from her throat, the sound muffled against Rosaline’s
flesh. Sweat beaded along her hairline, the muscles in her thighs and stomach tensing, toes curling, and, with an intensity
that stole her breath, her body turned itself inside out, brain short-circuiting. All she could do was close her eyes and
ride it out and pray it didn’t actually kill her, her heart pounding in a way she was pretty sure wasn’t healthy.
She turned her head and whined into the crook of Rosaline’s hip. “I can’t.”
Rosaline shushed her sweetly, one hand leaving the headboard, stroking her hair. “You can. You’re okay. You’re doing so good.”
She rolled her hips, dragging her pussy against Poppy’s mouth. “So good.”
Aftershocks of pleasure rippled through her, insides fluttering, clenching around the amazing, awful, still-buzzing toy, but it was the praise that made her squirm. Made her want to try harder. Do better. She fastened her