Chapter 6
POPPY
Marty’s back hits the wall inside his apartment, and I’m already pulling at his jacket, shoving it off his shoulders while his tongue is on my neck and driving me crazy.
His stubble scrapes the skin below my ear and the raw friction of it sends heat pouring down my spine and pooling between my legs so fast my knees nearly buckle.
His hands drop to the backs of my thighs and grip and lift, his fingers digging into the backs of my thighs hard enough that the pressure is almost pain and not enough and god I want more.
My legs wrap around his waist and the dress rides up and the rough denim of his jeans grinds between my thighs and the friction against the thin cotton of my underwear is so direct, so blunt against my clit, that a high, sharp sound comes out of me and I feel his cock twitch against me through the fabric.
“Where?” I ask, desperate to feel Marty’s skin beneath mine.
“Left. End of the hall.”
My back bumps a doorframe. Both of us half-laughing into each other’s mouths. His knees hit the mattress and he sits and I’m straddling his lap, and his hard, thick cock grinds up through my core so sweet and aching that my forehead drops against his and neither of us breathes.
“The tie,” I say. “At my waist.”
His fingers close on the knot and pull and my dress falls open against my ribs. Cool air hits my stomach, and the shock of it against my overheated skin makes my nipples tighten so fast they ache.
His eyes move over my bra, my stomach, the full curve of my hips overflowing his lap, the thick softness of my thighs gripping his waist, and his hands spread wide over the swell of my hips and pull me closer.
He grips me like he wants every inch of what’s in front of him and the heat that floods through me is so immediate my core clenches in anticipation.
“You are so fucking gorgeous.” His mouth presses to the swell of my breast above my bra and the words vibrate against my skin, wet and hot, and I grind down against him and whimper as the ache between my legs nearly makes me beg.
My bra opens and his tongue licks my nipple, his teeth lightly teasing at my skin, and I gasp and fist his hair and pull and the guttural sound he makes against my breast makes me even wetter.
We undress quickly and I shove him back onto the mattress and straddle him. His cock is thick and flushed against his stomach and the sight alone makes me bite my lip in anticipation.
I wrap my hand around him and his hips buck off the bed and a raw moan spills from his lips and my body answers with a fresh rush of slick heat between my thighs.
“Poppy.” His hands grip my thighs. “Poppy, slow down, I want to—”
“I don’t want slow.” I stroke him once, base to tip, my thumb dragging through his precum and back down his thick shaft.
He pulls me down, rolls us, and his weight pins his chest against my bare breasts and his hips between my thighs, and I wrap my legs around him and pull him against me and his cock slides through the wet heat of me and I thrust my hips toward him, eager to feel him thrust inside me.
Marty smiles and teases me, running the tip of his cock against my clit. Then he kisses me deeply and he’s pushing inside me and I see stars and my body is electrified.
He pushes in inch by inch and my mouth falls open on a sound I’ve never made before.
The fullness is a deep, aching pressure that radiates through my hips, and my body grips him so tight that my thighs are shaking and I don’t want it to stop.
His forehead drops to my shoulder and his groan vibrates over my sensitive skin.
“Move,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around him.
He pulls back slow and drives forward and I moan loudly. My hips slam up to meet him and his rhythm breaks and a curse tears out of him, ragged and desperate.
“Fuck—Poppy, if you do that I’m going to—”
I pull him deeper and the new angle hits a spot inside me that is perfect and intensely overwhelming, and a moan rips out of me that doesn’t sound like mine.
He tries to hold the pace and I break it. My body rolls up against his and his rhythm falters and I roll again and his hand slams into the headboard and my name comes out of him fractured and raw, barely a word anymore, and the sound of how he’s responding to me makes me move faster.
His thumb finds my clit and the pressure blooms outward in slow, thick waves, each circle tightening the coil in my belly another turn until my muscles are clenching around him with every stroke and I’m shaking and moaning his name.
“Come on.” His voice breaks. “Come on, Poppy. I want to feel you.”
He teases my clit as he thrusts faster and faster into me, and my hands are fisting his sheets and his eyes find mine and he’s watching my face while he fucks me and the intensity in his eyes pushes me to the edge.
“Marty.” His name tears out of me. “Give me more. Marty, I’m going to—”
He buries his face in my neck and drives deep and fast and my orgasm tears through my belly, to my clit and down the insides of my thighs and my back arches off the mattress and my body clamps around him so hard he chokes out a groan and his body shudders as he thrusts faster and faster, and groans my name into my throat as he explodes in me.
I hug him against my body and there is nothing but his weight and his voice and the feeling of him inside me and the panting of our breath.
His heart slams against mine as we lie chest to chest, his breath hot and wet on my neck. I press my face into his shoulder and breathe in his sweat and the scent of us mingled together, and I don’t want to move. I want to be pinned to this mattress under this man until the room stops spinning.
He pulls me with him as he rolls onto his side—one arm underneath me, the other draped across my hip, his thumb finding the curve where my waist rounds into my thigh and drawing a slow line back and forth. Over and over.
“I should tell you something,” he says, a slow smile spreading across his mouth.
“If it’s about intake logs, I’m going to physically injure you.”
Another laugh. His callused fingers push my hair back from my face, careful against my temple. I look up at him. The blinds are throwing thin streaks of light across his jaw and throat, and his face is open and unguarded.
“I was going to say you are the most incredible, most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met.”
“Oh,” I whisper. That’s not what I expected, but the intimacy of it feels good and right.
I could really get used to this.