Poppy
I cracked the door open and I listened.
Of course I heard him get up…noticed he wasn’t in bed, listened as he got dressed. It seemed suspicious, and I got scared, and I ended up following him all over the house like a weird little burglar in his t-shirt, down the stairs, then to the front door.
I made sure I could hear every word.
And instead of hearing him doing something that would break my heart…I listened as he told Sophie how he fell in love with me over two long years.
With every piece of his story, I remembered my own side of it.
How that crush had raged like a wildfire through me as we sat at the kitchen table in Bloom’s employee area and made smalltalk that didn’t feel small at all, how I’d seen him on the schedule ever since and gotten a little excited just to connect for fifteen minutes before or after his appointments with Sophie.
It felt like it made sense.
And of course he wanted to take the blame. We were both like that.
It made us connect.
I was standing at the door with my arms crossed when he came back in, his eyes finding me right away and going wide.
“How long have you been standing there?” he asked.
I raised my eyebrows. “Long enough.”
He closed the door behind him, shutting out the cold, and looked at me…phone in his hand, posture awkward.
“Poppy—”
“You took the fall for me,” I said. “I didn’t want you to do that. I don’t want you to do that ever, ever again.”
“I know.”
“But you did it anyway.”
“I did.”
I took a step forward and reached up to touch his face. John leant into my touch right away, his eyes closing.
“That was the last time, okay?” I said. “From now on…we don’t take the fall for each other. We do it together or not at all.”
He opened his eyes.
"Okay," he said. "Together."
I dropped my hand. "So what did she say?"
He exhaled. "She's not firing you."
My knees went a little weak. I hadn't realized how much I'd been holding until he said it.
"Jasper went to see her this morning," he said. "Before I even called."
"Of course he did," I said, which made him smile.
"She wants you in Monday. Says there are things to work out, but she’s not losing you over this.” He paused. “You’re not the kind of person people like to lose.”
I pressed my lips together hard.
"Hey," he said, and pulled me in.
I let him. Pressed my face against his chest and just stood there for a second, feeling his arms come around me, feeling the tension I'd been carrying since Tuesday finally start to let go.
"She said something else," he said, into my hair.
"What?"
"She said she should have seen it sooner. You and me." His hand moved up my back. "Said she filed something away the day you took me to the kitchen and made me tea. Should have paid more attention to what she was filing."
I pulled back to look at him.
"She said that?"
"Yeah."
I kept my eyes on him. “I don’t think I ever believed in love at first sight until I met you.”
“Don’t think I did either.”
I pulled back again.
Reached down to tug his shirt over my head.
“Take me back to bed,” I breathed.
He smiled, then moved—and I was suddenly off my feet and laughing as he flung me over his shoulder and headed toward the stairs. I kept laughing as we went up like that, my head bobbing, one of his hands on my ass while the other held my legs tight against his chest so I wouldn’t fall.
“This seems dangerous!” I said, still laughing.
“I’ve got you, baby…I’ve got you.”
Soon, we were in the bedroom, John setting me down as gently as he could.
I still bounced on the mattress, a wild grin on my face, my hair in tight curls all around my shoulders.
He reached behind him to pull his shirt and hoodie off in one fluid movement, then hooked his thumbs in his sweats to pull his pants down.
God…god, his cock was already hard, and I couldnt—
I wanted him.
I wanted him so bad it hurt.
I moved faster than he could, crawling toward him and taking his cock in my mouth…all the way to the back of my throat, not hesitating.
He moaned.
“Jesus, Poppy…fuck. Fuck yes…”
He tangled his hand in my hair and started to move his hips, testing how deep I could take him. His grip tightened and I let him take over, set the pace, go as deep as he wanted because I wanted to give him this.
Wanted to give him everything.
“Look at me,” he said.
I looked up at me, my mouth full of him. His jaw was tight, eyes dark as he watched me work him.
“Good girl,” he purred. “Just like that. Taking me so fucking well…fuck, you’re perfect.”
I hummed around him and his eyes fluttered like he was struggling to keep them open. I felt him holding back, keeping his thrusts slow and deliberate.
“No idea…fuck…no idea how bad I want to come in that pretty mouth,” he growled. “But I need to come in your pussy. Holding back for you, Poppy…holding back because I need you riding me.”
I moaned. It just made me want to do more, to take him deeper, to do better.
“Six goddamn months to wait until I can put a baby in you,” he snarled. “Come on—come on, Poppy. You’re doing so well.”
I gave myself over to it completely, opening my throat, leaning in. He groaned and pulled on my hair hard enough that it stung.
“Poppy—”
I took him deeper. Wanted to push him to the brink.
“Fuck, baby…fuck, I wanna come inside you but—”
Deeper.
“Christ.” His hips stuttered. “Christ, you’re not gonna stop, are you?”
I smiled around his cock, dragging my tongue along the underside and then taking him deep all over again. His whole body shuddered.
“Look at you,” he breathed. “Look at you taking me—you want it that bad—ah…fuck it—”
His pace increased and he gave me what I’d been chasing, thrusting into my mouth fast and hard. I took it, wanted it, craved it—then I felt the heat of him down my throat, swallowing as much as I could, showing him just how badly I wanted him.
He pulled out fast, then he was climbing into the bed and kissing me hard, one calloused hand on my breast, tugging at my nipple. He was still half-hard between my legs, his cock sliding against my folds.
“Gonna fuck you anyway,” he said. “Come inside you. You want that, baby?”
“Please.”
“God yes, beg for it—”
“Please, John, please,” I begged. “Give me your cock. I want it so bad, please, I love you—”
He slid inside me to the hilt.
I keened, crying out to the ceiling, my nails embedding in his shoulders to the point where I was certain they’d leave marks. He started fucking me hard right away, one hand coming around to brace my hips against him, the other playing rough with my breasts.
“So fucking beautiful,” he growled. "Taking me so well—every time, Poppy, every goddamn time—"
"John—"
"I know." His hips drove forward and I lost my breath entirely. "I know, baby. I've got you."
His hand moved from my hip to my throat, not squeezing, just holding, making me feel completely claimed, completely safe, both at once. I arched into it.
"Yeah," he said roughly. "That's it."
"More," I managed. "Harder—"
He gave me harder.
The headboard knocked against the wall and I didn't care, couldn't care, could only hold on and take what he gave me and give it back in kind—my hips meeting his, my nails in his shoulders, his name coming out of me in pieces.
"Who do you belong to," he said.
"You," I breathed. "You, John—"
"Say it again."
"You." My head pressed back into the pillow. "Only you, only ever—"
"Good girl." His thumb found my clit and I shattered, my whole body pulling tight and then releasing all at once, his name tearing out of me. “And I’m yours, Poppy…I’m all yours until the day I die…”
Our rhythm went wild and unfocused, time ceasing to exist. I didn’t know how long we kept at it—his cock driving into me, his hand steady at my throat, ihs lips against mine. All I knew was that I came again, again…then he was jolting and falling over the edge with me.
We lay together like that, his body half-covering mine, his cock still inside me. My pussy clenched every so often with little aftershocks, and every single time it felt right to have him there, lingering.
He finally pulled back to look at me.
“When we get back to the city,” he said, “we’re still waiting…I promise, I need that—but I want you to start thinking about a ring. Whatever you want, it’s gonna be all yours, baby.”
My breath caught.
"A ring," I said.
"A ring," he confirmed. His thumb moved across my cheekbone. "I told you six months. I meant it. But I want you thinking about what you want so that when the time comes I get it right."
I looked at him—this man, in this bed, in this house he built alone on a lake he'd wanted since he was fifteen years old.
"I don't care about the ring," I said.
"I know you don't," he said. "That's why I want to get it right."
I laughed, a little watery, and pressed my face against his chest.
He held me there, one hand moving through my hair, the snow-light coming through the window.
"John," I said.
"Yeah."
"I'm really glad I sent that email."
He laughed, his chest moving under my cheek.
"Me too, baby," he said. "Me too."