Chapter 5 Bright Lines #4
She kissed me again before I could answer.
Her mouth turned greedy, tongue pushing deep, teeth catching my lower lip.
I tasted strawberry gloss, salt, and the lime she'd been stealing from the bar.
She held me between her thighs and rolled her hips forward, grinding the seam of her cutoffs along my cock through my jeans.
Heat shot through me.
"Fuck, Sugar Pop."
Her laugh came out low and breathless. "I knew you'd feel good like this."
"You already knew."
"Not alone."
Her not alone landed harder than it should've. I saw the check-in smile arrive late, the screenshots reducing her to arrows, and the steady way she'd said her own name.
I gripped her ass and kissed her harder until Poppy's mouth, Poppy's tongue, and Poppy's breath were the only things left in my head.
My mouth left hers and moved along her jaw. Poppy tipped her head, giving me her neck. I tasted warm skin, kissed the pulse beating fast beneath it, and bit gently where her shoulder met her throat.
She shivered and clamped her legs tighter around me.
"Again."
I gave her another bite, harder this time, then soothed it with my tongue. Her fingers twisted in my hair. Her hips kept moving, slow and deliberate, dragging her body over my cock until every layer between us felt like a personal insult.
"You've got no idea what you do to me," I said against her skin.
"I have a pretty good idea." She rolled forward again and smiled when I groaned. "But I like hearing it."
I caught her mouth and kissed her until neither of us had enough breath for teasing. My hands left her ass and moved up her sides. The tank top was thin beneath my palms. I cupped her breasts through the fabric, thumbs passing over nipples already hard enough to find without searching.
Poppy arched into my hands.
"God, Nash."
I squeezed, slow and firm, watching her face while my thumbs circled again. Her eyes closed. Her mouth stayed open, breath breaking every time I rolled one nipple beneath the pad of my thumb.
Then her eyes opened and found mine.
"Don't stop looking at me."
"Wasn't planning to."
She drew me back into her mouth. Tongue. Teeth. A kiss wet enough that I could taste it after she moved to my jaw and sucked at the skin beneath my ear.
My cock throbbed between us.
Poppy felt it. She shifted on the bench and ground down harder, using the pressure of my body and the edge of the seat to work herself against me. Her moan went straight into my mouth.
"You're so fucking hard," she whispered.
"For you."
"Say my name."
I gripped her ass and pulled her into another slow roll. "Poppy."
Her forehead touched mine. "Again."
"Poppy. My Sugar Girl. My girlfriend."
She kissed me so hard my next breath belonged to her.
The rhythm got rougher. Her thighs flexed around me.
My hands moved from her ass to her waist, back to her breasts, then down again, learning the path even though I already knew every curve.
Poppy kept my cock trapped against the heat between her legs and rocked with enough purpose that my control started coming apart.
I could've stayed there until I came in my jeans.
I wanted more than that. So did she.
Poppy's right hand left my shoulder and slid down my stomach. Her fingers reached my belt buckle.
Then stopped.
She held still, breathing against my mouth, her fingertips resting on cool metal.
"No," she whispered.
I didn't move my hands.
Poppy swallowed, then looked at me with swollen lips and bright, hungry eyes. "Not because I don't want to."
"I know."
"I want a bed." Her thumb traced the edge of the buckle without opening it. "I want a door that locks. I want hours, Nash. I want your mouth all over me and your cock inside me, and I don't want to stop because somebody might walk down a dock."
My pulse hammered against the restraint of my jeans.
"Tuesday," she said. "Tomorrow night. No work. No phones. No group plans. Just me."
"Tuesday's yours."
"All of it?"
"Every minute you want."
Her smile turned filthy. "Good. Because I plan to be loud. Your cabin walls are going to learn my name even if the rest of the lake can't manage it."
I laughed, rough and short, and kissed her once more.
Slow this time. Deep. Her tongue met mine without the desperate rhythm, but the heat stayed. Poppy removed her hand from my belt and wrapped both arms around my shoulders. She drew me against her until her cheek rested beside mine and her body softened around the ache we'd chosen to keep.
I held her there, one hand at her waist, the other spread over her thigh.
Her pulse slowed beneath my mouth.
My cock didn't.
"You okay, Brew?" she murmured.
"Ask me after Tuesday."
She giggled against my neck. "That's my Smoke Show."
We stayed tangled together until our breathing stopped sounding like a public nuisance. Then Poppy pressed one last kiss to my mouth, slipped her feet back onto the boards, and stood.
Her tank top was twisted. Her curls looked like I'd spent ten minutes proving a point with both hands. She fixed neither one.
Poppy held out her hand.
"Come on."
I took it and let her pull me toward the string lights.
"Where are we going?"
"Back to the people who think they know which one I am."
At the bright edge of the occupied deck, she tightened her fingers through mine and pulled me into the light.