Chapter 39 #2
I flash her a ha ha look, before my attention is suddenly turned back toward the oven where a plume of smoke is rising out of the pan.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I pull myself away from Poppy and go to assess the damage. It’s pretty burnt, and I use the spatula to try and scrape a few pieces that have gotten stuck to the bottom of the pan.
“Is everything okay?” Poppy asks me, craning her neck to see how bad I’ve fucked up the dinner.
“It’s pretty burnt,” I admit. “Someone distracted me.”
Poppy clicks her tongue.
“I guess you lose the challenge then,” she says.
I shut the stove off and walk back to her.
“Worth it,” I say, before tugging her towards me and consuming her in a kiss.
She’s the first to pull away.
“If we ordered in do you think we’d have time to..?”
I’m already nodding before she’s finished her question.
Poppy tries to hop down off the counter, but I grip her hips in my hands and slide her back to where she was.
“I want you right here,” I half growl as I tug at the waist band of her pants.
She slides them down the rest of the way, until she’s bared to me, and I trail my hand from where it’s been cupping her jaw, down the length of her torso to find her slit. I circle her clit with the pad of my thumb, her back arching.
She places her hands behind her to support herself on the counter as I bend down and bury my face in her. The moan that escapes her reverberates through her whole body, and into mine. A ripple of pleasure moves through me, and my cock stiffens at her response to me.
Fuck, I’m not going to last like this.
I remove my mouth from her sweet cunt so I can cool myself off, opting to slide two fingers into her instead.
Her back arches, her hips grinding on the cool marble counter, rocking as if she’s trying to create even more contact between her pussy and my fingers. A surge of warmth coats my fingers, a drip runs down my hand and I lick it up, before finding her clit with my tongue.
“You taste so fucking good,” I groan, curling my fingers against her front wall while I flick her clit, slowly at first and then increasing the pace.
Whatever I’m doing, I know it’s working, because Poppy is in a lusty haze, moaning, her legs shaking next to my head.
I suck her clit into my mouth, applying enough pressure that she erupts. Her walls clench around my fingers as she cries out, and I just about lose all control myself.
Once her pleasure settles, I look up at her, a sated expression on her face. But her eyes flick down to the bulge straining against the fly of my pants.
“You didn’t…”
“No, but fuck I want to,” I rasp.
Poppy reaches down and undoes the buckle of my belt, followed by the button of my jeans, and shoves my jeans down my hips letting my hard cock spring free. Her teeth sink into her pillowy bottom lip at the sight of it.
“You love it now, don’t you?” I ask, and her eyes flare with lust as she nods. Pulling out a condom I put in my pocket earlier in the day, I roll it on. Her eyes never wander from my erection.
I brush my fingers across Poppy’s jaw and tip her head up so her gaze meets mine while I nudge my tip against her entrance, still pulsing from the aftermath of her orgasm.
“My.”
I ease in just the head.
“Pretty.”
Her mouth pops open, eyes glued to where our bodies connect.
“Little.”
Now I thrust, until I’m seated fully inside her.
“Wife.”
I groan out the last word, with as much adoration as I can.
I say it like a prayer, because I’d drop to my knees in front of Poppy and worship her every goddamned day.
Because she’s so fucking beautiful, she’s so fucking perfect, and she’s so tight around me.
I back out of her, and thrust again, finding my pace. Poppy’s legs wrap around my back, pulling me closer. Sweat beads on my brow, my hair sticking to my face as I pump in and out.
Poppy cries out in pleasure again, clenching around me, and this time I don’t hold back. I let her orgasm trigger my own and I find my release in her.
When I pull out, my breath is ragged, chest heaving, but there’s a smirk toying with Poppy’s lips.
“I guess we should actually order some food?” She asks, and I let out a laugh.
“Right. I completely forgot.”
We quickly put in a takeout order with Jack’s, Grady’s bar, and by the time it arrives, I’ve made Poppy come again more than once. It’s like I’m addicted to it, addicted to her.
Still, we manage to keep our hands off each other long enough to settle on the couch, seated on opposite ends with our takeout boxes, legs intertwined beneath her hand knitted blanket.
“This was your strategy all along, wasn’t it?” She squints her eyes at me, and I shrug, giving her a look of feigned innocence.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, but she doesn’t have time to elaborate because her phone buzzes on the counter.
Once. Twice. Three times.
She places her takeout box on the coffee table as she gets up, but the moment she picks up her phone, her face drops.
“It’s Ethan,” she says. “I should call him, he’s kind of freaking out.”
Poppy wanders down the hall out of direct earshot, but I can still make out most of her words.
“It’s okay Ethan… everyone needs to take a day off sick occasionally. I’ll take care of the café for a few days… You’ve done more than enough for me over the last couple weeks… No, I’m serious. I appreciate you so much.”
I lean my head back and look up at the ceiling, letting out a long sigh.
Pop, I think. There goes our bubble.
And with it, is the glaring reminder that even though Poppy and I can pretend, and play house, reality will always be waiting for us at the end of it.