Chapter 6 Every Minute #4
Poppy hooked her ankle around my back and pulled me closer. "Ask me something difficult."
"You saved absolutely nothing for tomorrow."
"You asked for every minute. Apparently that included every drop."
"Good answer."
She reached between her legs, touched the cum gathering there, then rubbed her fingers together like she was inspecting my work.
"Pops."
"What? I'm appreciating the effort."
I caught her wrist before she could smear it on me and kissed the inside of it.
"Stay."
"Bossy."
"You like it."
"Tonight? I love it."
I slid a dry towel beneath her hips for comfort and left the rest of the mess where it was. No ceremony. No attempt to make two well-fucked bodies look untouched.
Poppy watched me settle the towel, then reached toward the floor where her panties had landed.
"Leave them," I said.
"I was going to put them somewhere responsible."
"They survived forty-five minutes. Let them enjoy retirement."
Her laugh came out tired and bright. She let her arm fall back across the bed. That tiny surrender felt as intimate as anything we'd done with our mouths.
Poppy stretched across the ruined sheets while I went the few steps to the mini-fridge. I brought back two cold bottles of water and the covered shortcake.
She sat up against the headboard. Her hair was wild, her tits were flushed from my mouth, and cum still shone along the inside of one thigh.
I handed her water first.
Poppy drank half the bottle, then offered it to me.
I took my own bottle from the other hand.
"Separate bottles," she said. "You really did plan for everything."
"Not everything."
"What'd you miss?"
I sat beside her and worked my hand slowly over the outside of her thigh, easing the tight muscle where it had gripped me. Poppy exhaled and let her leg go heavy across mine.
"How hard it would be to keep my hands off you long enough to serve dessert."
"That isn't a planning failure. That's good taste."
"Prepared," she said.
"I had a demanding guest."
"Your favorite kind."
I uncovered the shortcake. Strawberries and cream filled the space between us with the scent she'd been teasing me with all night.
Poppy reached for the fork.
I caught it first.
She narrowed her eyes. "You realize I can fight you for that."
"You could."
I loaded the fork with cake, cream, and a piece of strawberry and held it to her mouth.
Poppy looked at the bite, then at me.
Her first instinct showed in the way her fingers twitched toward the plate.
I waited.
She opened her mouth.
I fed her.
Poppy closed her eyes while she chewed. A small sound of pleasure came from her throat, softer than any noise she'd made during sex but no less honest.
"Okay," she said. "That's unfairly good."
"You can just like it. You don't have to compliment the chef, improve the plating, or make sure I get the next bite."
Poppy looked down at her empty hands. "I had a whole plan for tonight."
"I know."
"You don't know the plan."
"No, but I know you."
Her mouth twitched. "It was a very good plan. You would've been exhausted, hydrated, fed, praised, and emotionally secure."
"Sounds terrifying."
"I provide comprehensive service."
I loaded another bite. "Tonight, your only job is opening your mouth."
Poppy did, eyes warm and amused as I fed her again.
"Another?"
She started to reach for the fork again, stopped herself, and put both hands behind her head.
"I suppose I could tolerate one more."
I fed her three.
On the fourth, whipped cream caught the corner of her mouth. I leaned in and licked it away.
Poppy kissed me, slow and sticky. Her hand came to rest over my heart. She didn't reach for my cock. She didn't take the fork. She just let me hold her and feed her another bite.
"This is hard for you," I said.
"I'm excellent at being naked and fed dessert."
"You're trying to work out when it's my turn."
"Maybe."
"Not yet."
Her smile went soft. "How long is not yet?"
"Until you stop counting."
Poppy considered that, then stole a strawberry from the plate with her fingers and ate it herself.
"That didn't count," she said.
"Obviously."
She leaned into me and went quiet for a few bites. The silence didn't make her restless this time. Her hand wandered over my stomach and stayed there, warm and easy, while I fed her.
"I thought I'd have to make every minute spectacular," she said eventually.
"You showed up."
"That easy?"
"That important."
Her eyes shone for a second. Poppy solved the problem by stealing the fork, scooping up a piece of strawberry, and holding it to my mouth.
I raised an eyebrow.
"Letting you spoil me doesn't mean I stop loving you back," she said. "One bite. Then you can go back to bossing me around."
I ate it.
Poppy smiled, satisfied without taking over, and put the fork back in my hand.
She settled against my side, one leg sliding over both of mine. I kept feeding her while her weight gradually moved from beside me to mostly on top of me.
The shortcake disappeared. Her eyelids got heavier. The cabin stayed quiet.
Poppy dragged one fingertip through the last streak of cream on the plate.
I caught her wrist and brought the finger toward my mouth.
She pulled it away with a tired grin. "Mine."
"Selfish."
"You promised."
She meant to lick it. I watched the thought cross her face, then lose to sleep.
Poppy put her head beneath my chin and sprawled naked across me, warm and boneless. One arm crossed my stomach. Both legs tangled through mine until I couldn't have left the bed without taking her with me.
Her breathing slowed.
The door remained locked. The phones stayed dark in the drawer.
Poppy slept with strawberry cream on one fingertip.