CHAPTER 17

WHAT I WANT

LANCE

My palms are sweaty as I get out of the car and rush around the hood so I can open Poppy’s door before she does. I want to be exactly like my parents expected me to be: refined and with manners.

But I’m not really like that. All of that fell away after my mum moved to Connecticut. I drifted even further when I was drafted to the farm team and got my own place. I shed all the pretension, the façade of civility, and fell down, down, down into a dark hole of excess.

I spent years burying all the hurt and hate and fear. I found ways to deal with the ingrained expectation of violence. I did things I’m not proud of, and right now I feel like I need to atone for every single sin so I can have this gorgeous woman and deserve her.

I’m not sure how to do that. I’m still going to take her, though. As far as she’s willing to go.

I follow her up the steps to her door. A tremor in her hand makes me aware that she’s nervous. She turns the key in the lock and opens the door. Her smile is full of trepidation as she steps aside to let me in.

I help her out of her sweater and sweep her hair over her shoulder. Leaning down, I kiss her pale skin, and she shivers.

“Don’t be afraid. I won’t take anything you don’t want to give me.”

She turns around, her eyes wide and innocent. “I know.” She pushes my jacket over my shoulders, and I shrug out of it, letting her hang it up in the closet I kissed her in last time.

I don’t want to hide in the dark with her any more. I want to see exactly what she looks like when I take off that pretty green dress.

She laces our fingers together and tugs, so I follow her down the hall. Instead of heading for the living room, she goes for the stairs.

“You don’t want to have a drink or something?” I ask.

“I don’t think that’s necessary, do you?”

Well, this is unexpected. “Not if you don’t.”

The calves in her muscles work as she climbs the stairs. She doesn’t swing her hips, or hike up her skirt to give me a glimpse at what’s under there like a bunny would. She doesn’t act coy or demure. She just links our pinkies together and leads me to the second floor.

She opens the door, but doesn’t flick on the light. It’s unnecessary since a small lamp illuminates the room from a nightstand beside her bed, which I don’t think is even a queen.

The room is small. The walls are pale, almost white, and the comforter is minty green.

“This is my bedroom,” she announces, then blushes.

I take her face in my hands and lean down to kiss her. “What do you want to do now?”

“I want to touch you,” she says against my lips. “And I want you to touch me.”

Poppy is nothing like the women I usually end up in bed with. She’s not brazen. She’s not looking to break conventions. She’s the opposite, and I want to be exactly what she needs, except I’m not sure how.

I keep my hands where they are, holding her face so I don’t take things too fast. Beyond wanting to be what she needs, I also want this to last in case she regrets it and it’s the only time I get this close to her.

Poppy’s hands rest on my waist, and one moves up to curve around the back of my neck. I tilt her head to the side, and she opens her mouth for me, giving me the access I want. Need. Her tongue meets mine, stroke for slow, hot stroke.

I’m so fucking anxious. I’m worried this isn’t going to be like when I’m on her table—that when she touches me it’s not going to be the same, that I’m going to hate it like I do with everyone else.

When she moves her hand from my neck down to my chest, I tense and cover it with mine.

She tries to disengage from the kiss, but I slide my tongue against hers. After another minute, during which my hard-on kicks against her stomach, I let go of her hand. She slows the kiss and pulls back until she can see me.

“You can tell me if it’s not okay.”

I huff out an embarrassed laugh. “I should be saying that to you, not the other way around.”

Poppy links our pinkies again and tugs me toward the bed. “Come make out with me.”

I feel exactly like I did when I was a teenager and it was my first time. But there are some major differences. My first time wasn’t special. I didn’t actually care about the girl. She was some random hook up at a hockey party—which was intentional. I knew by then that female contact wasn’t welcome the way it should’ve been, and I didn’t enjoy it the way the other guys on the team seemed to.

I just wanted to know what the big deal was. And after that I learned sex was going to be about making someone else feel good, because it didn’t work that way for me.

As much as I want this, being with just Poppy means there are no distractions. I’m terrified of being the sole point of her focus. But I’m so tired of the emptiness. I’m tired of the endless ache, and I’m willing her to be the one who can fix that for me.

Poppy climbs up on the bed and moves over to make room for me. She pats the mattress, looking at me expectantly. I don’t even bother to take off my shirt before I join her. I adjust the pillows and lean back against the headboard. If she were a bunny, she’d already be naked and ready to straddle me. If she were Tash, there’d be someone else involved.

Facing me, Poppy slides in close, kneeling beside me until her hip is against my knee. She doesn’t unbutton my shirt. She doesn’t put her hand on my thigh, or stroke my hard-on through my pants—all of which might actually be welcome at the moment.

Instead she skims the contour of my jaw with the back of her hand and traces my features with her fingertips. “How does this feel?

I close my eyes for a second. “Nice. Good.”

Her fingers travel the same slow pattern on my skin until they’re replaced with her lips. “And this? Does this feel nice?”

“It feels better than nice.”

“Better than nice sounds good.” Her lips move from my temple to the corner of my mouth. I turn my head and slide my fingers into her hair so she can’t take her mouth away.

I’m the one who rearranges her body so she’s straddling my lap. Her dress rides up high on her thighs. I run my hand along the bare, pale expanse of her legs, but I don’t go any farther than the hem.

I just kiss her. I’ve never really gotten used to doing that. It’s too intimate, and it invites too much in the way of hand-to-skin contact, because that’s when they’re liable to wander. But with Poppy, I don’t mind. She makes these sweet, soft sounds and arches her back, pressing her breasts against my chest. In doing this, she also presses up against my hard-on. I groan into her mouth—it’s a loud, pained sound. I’ve been hard since I picked her up.

Her hands, which I realize have been smoothing up and down my arms, freeze.

“That’s not a bad sound,” I reassure her, squeezing her thighs.

She leans back, but returns to press a kiss on my lips as she runs her fingers through my hair, her short nails dragging down the sides of my neck. Poppy traces the collar of my shirt and plays with the top button.

“How would you feel about me taking this off now?”

“I’d feel okay about that.” I run a finger under the strap of her dress. “Can I take this off now, too?”

She smiles. “Would it be better if I go first?”

“Maybe, aye?” I haven’t let anyone else undress me, ever. Not even Tash.

Poppy doesn’t look away as she lifts one arm and pulls the hidden zipper on the side of her dress down.

I sit up straighter and kiss along her shoulder as I move the strap aside, revealing an emerald green bra, nearly the same color as her dress. I mutter a low curse and bite her shoulder when my cock kicks.

Poppy sucks in a breath.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

I slide my hands under the hem, over her hips and stomach, and pull the dress up. Emerald green lace panties make an appearance, followed by the matching bra.

I lift the fabric over her head and groan. If I allowed myself to have a type, Poppy would be it. She’s curvy, her lush breasts straining against the delicate lace cups.

“Fuckin’ell.” I drag gentle fingertips over the swell of her breasts and drop my face into her cleavage. She smells like lavender and something sweet. I want to put my mouth on every inch of her. And my hands. Any part of her I can touch with any part of my body is what I want. Need. Crave.

Eventually I stop nuzzling her breasts and lift my head. “You’re fucking perfect, Poppy.”

Her cheeks are hot pink. “I’m not really.”

“Perfect. Every inch.”

“I could probably stand to go to the gym more.”

“Fuck the gym. I’ll be your workout. As many days of the week as you want. I’ll be the best workout you’ve ever had.”

She laughs and goes for the first button on my shirt. She’s slow about the process, her fingertips grazing bare skin each time until she pulls my shirt from the waistband of my pants and parts the two sides.

She hums. “Your body is incredible, but I guess you already know that.”

“It serves its purpose.”

“Which is what, exactly?”

“It got me a great career and here, in your bed, with you.”

“Your body didn’t get you into this bed.” Poppy plays with the tails of my shirt.

“No?”

She shakes her head.

“Then what did?”

Her expression is gentle. “Your sweetness.”

I laugh. “I hate to break it to you, precious, but I’m pretty fucking far from sweet.”

“I disagree. You’ve been nothing but sweet with me.” She grins and then grows serious. “I want to touch you.”

“Then that’s what you should do.”

She keeps her eyes on mine as she pushes the shirt over my shoulders and down my arms. She removes one sleeve, then the other, and when I’m shirtless, she skims my chest with feather-light fingers.

I’m tense, but when her contact isn’t followed by the sensation of ants crawling over my skin, I relax.

“Do you like that?” she asks. “Does it feel nice?”

“It feels fucking amazing.”

Poppy licks her lips. “Do you think you might like it if I put my mouth on you?”

She’s not offering to blow me—at least I don’t think she is. She’s just offering me a different kind of touch.

I’ve had a lot of women say a lot of dirty things to me. I’ve had a lot of fucked-up sex over the years, but this obliterates every single experience. For the first time ever, I’m not trying to find creative ways to keep her hands off me. I’m not looking for an escape. I’m not wasted and trying to feel something other than pain, or allow the pain to take me over.

“Where you thinkin’ about putting your mouth?”

“Well.” Poppy bites the end of her finger then touches it to my lips. “I’d like to start here and maybe work my way down. Does that sound acceptable?”

“That sounds way better than acceptable.”

“I think so, too.”

Poppy kisses me again. Her lips are tentative and warm. She moves along the side of my neck to my shoulder. She drops down so her ass is resting on my thighs, giving her access to my chest. Those pretty green eyes lock on mine as her tongue flicks out against my nipple.

“Ah, fuck.” I want to shove my hands in her hair and guide her mouth lower. But I keep them on her thighs instead, because I can’t rush this.

“Would you like to lie down?” Poppy asks.

“Sure. Yeah.”

I hold on to her waist and ease down the bed so my head is resting on the pillows. Poppy’s lace-covered pussy is now right on top of my erection. Based on the way her eyes go wide and dart to mine, she feels it when it jerks.

I don’t let go of her hips; instead I rock her over me a few times. She makes this quiet, needy noise I want to hear a fuckton more of. Poppy reaches behind her and unclasps her bra. She holds the cups as the straps slide down her arms, keeping herself covered as she slips her arms through.

I’m still rocking her over me when she drops the bra on my stomach. She’s still holding her breasts, though, being all modest. Or maybe a little playful, since so far it’s been pretty fucking intense, and we’re not even fully undressed.

“Maybe we should take your pants off,” she suggests. “Since I’m more naked than you are now.”

“Aye, maybe we should.”

“That would make it a bit more fair, wouldn’t it?”

“It would,” I agree.

And that’s when she drops her hands and goes for my belt. It’s an orchestrated distraction. The freckles on her shoulders trickle down to the top of her breasts. Poppy’s creamy white skin contrasts perfectly with the rosy pink of her nipples. Which I want to kiss and lick and suck, but she’s busy right now, popping the button on my dress pants. The zipper goes down, and Poppy shifts so she’s sitting beside me. I lift my hips so she can pull them down. I’m commando, so there’s no hiding my erection as it springs free.

Poppy gives a low whistle. “You’re really not compensating at all.” She pulls my pants down the rest of the way, along with my socks.

“I have condoms in my wallet. It’s in the back pocket.”

“That’s good, because I don’t think the ones I have will be very comfortable.” She sets my wallet on my chest.

“Probably not.” I flip it open and pull one out, dropping it on the bed before I toss my wallet on the nightstand. She eyes the foil wrapper and tucks her thumbs into the waistband of her panties.

I sit up. “I wanna help with that.”

Poppy drops her hands by her side. I don’t go straight for her panties. Instead I cup her breasts and kiss each pert nipple, following with a lick and an indulgent suck.

Her hands go into my hair, and she whispers, “Oh, God.” I stay there for a little while, appreciating the quiet, non-bunny sounds that come out of her. She doesn’t shriek or squeal or scream. It makes me acutely aware of how much I don’t want that any more and never really did. It was just another escape.

I pull her panties over her hips, but I have to stop with the nipple sucking and breast fondling in order to get them the rest of the way off. I’ve never wanted my hands in more places at once like I do right now.

I rise up on my knees in front of her. It forces her to tilt her head up. “Poppy.” It’s mostly a groan.

She runs her hands over my chest. “Lance.” It comes out breathless.

I squeeze her hip and shift my hand, fingers drifting low. I slip one between her legs, hot and wet greeting me. “I wanna kiss you right here.”

Her mouth drops open, brow furrowing, her grip on my shoulders tightening.

“Will you let me do that?” I find her clit and circle it. “Kiss you here?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to kiss you here?” I ask, because letting and wanting are not the same. I let Tash do a lot of things I didn’t want any part of. I don’t ever want to do anything like that to Poppy.

“Yes.” She skims my bottom lip with her fingertip. “I want to know what your mouth feels like.”

“You know what I want?” I lay her down, fanning her hair out.

She shakes her head.

I straddle her, because if I get between her legs now, there’s no way I’ll be able to follow through on what I want. Or what she said she wants.

I kiss her before I answer. “I want to know what you sound like when you come.” Then I swallow her moan as I take her mouth.

We kiss while I caress her breasts and down her sides. Then I start a languorous descent over her body, stopping at her nipples, at the dip in her waist, and to nibble at her hip before I edge a knee between hers.

Poppy parts her thighs, and I get comfortable, stretching out so my legs are hanging off the end of the bed. I spread her open and drop a wet kiss on that pretty little clit.

Poppy drags in a breath. I move my lips to the inside of her thigh and nip there before going back to her clit, again and again. I lick her until she comes, and my name is a hoarse cry on her lips. And then I do it again, because she tastes like she’s made for me, and I’m already addicted to the sound of her when I give her exactly what she needs.

Which I want to be me.

She’s glassy eyed and flush cheeked by the time I’m done. I hover over her and slide two fingers inside, pumping slow.

Her eyes roll up, and when they come back down, she raises a shaky hand and presses it to my cheek. “I want you.”

“Right now?”

She bites her lip and nods, then searches the comforter for the condom. When she finds it, she puts a hand on my chest. “Can I put it on?”

At this point, she hasn’t had her hand on my cock. I’m not sure how I’m going to handle that. I’m not worried about having her touch me; I’m worried about how quickly I’m going to come when she does. But I don’t want to say no to her.

“Is that what you want?” I ask.

“Only if you want me to.” She gives me my words back.

“I want.” I sit back on my knees, and she follows. But she doesn’t tear the wrapper open as her long hair sweeps over my thighs. She wraps her fingers around my cock, holding it steady. Then she looks up at me and bends forward to kiss the tip.

“Poppy.” It’s a guttural sound.

She follows with a lick. “Does that feel good?”

“Yeah, really good.”

“I want to do that again, if you want me to.”

“You really don’t ha—”

“But do you want me to?” I can feel her hot breath as it breaks across the head. My cock jerks in her hand.

“Put my dick in your mouth?” I don’t mean for it to sound so crass, and judging from the way her cheeks flush even pinker, she’s not used to hearing it.

“Yes. Do you want my mouth on you?”

“Fuck, Poppy. Yes.”

She opens her pretty, perfect mouth and covers the head. Her tongue swirls around and around before she pops off.

“How does that feel?”

I move her hair away from her face. “If you keep doing that, I’m going to come before I can get inside you.”

“One more time, then?”

How the fuck can I say no to that? I close my eyes and give her a tight nod.

This time she licks around the entire head with an open mouth before she covers it, taking more of me in. Then she starts bobbing, going deeper with each pass. I’ll definitely come if she keeps going, and while I’m positive I can get hard again, I don’t want to miss this opportunity, or lose this moment.

“Precious…” I cup her cheek, my thumb following the curve of her bottom lip where it’s wrapped around my cock. She looks up at me with wide, sweet eyes. Jesus fucking Christ, how did I manage to get into this girl’s bed? “I need you to stop.”

She makes a little noise, like maybe she doesn’t want to, but she lets me ease her off. I pull her up and kiss her, probably harder than I should. She moans into my mouth when my tongue finds hers.

I need a minute to calm the fuck down before I get inside her, but Poppy seems to have other ideas. She tears the condom open.

“Just hold on, ’kay?” I cover her hand with mine.

“Is everything all right?” Worry makes her voice low.

“Yeah, yeah.” I stroke her cheek. “I’m a little too jacked right now, and I don’t want this to be over before it even gets started.”

“Oh.” She grins.

“Are you smirking at me?”

“Do you want me to smirk at you?” she asks, all sassy sweet.

“I’ll tell you what I want.” I lay her down, shifting her until her head rests on the pillows, her red hair spread across the pale green.

“What’s that?” she asks, reaching up for me with the hand that isn’t holding the condom.

“I wanna know what it feels like to be inside you.”

“Then you should find out.”

I straddle her hips so she can put the condom on, which I’ve never let anyone else do. Her fingers are gentle and warm as she grips me, and it feels so fucking good. Everything about her is perfect. She rolls the condom down my shaft, her eyes lifting to mine when I’m sheathed. I have to fight not to rush this; I want to be in her so badly.

I shift so I’m between her parted thighs. Lowering myself, I slide one hand under her shoulder so I can cradle the back of her head, and I use the other one to guide me.

And then it’s so much more than just hot and wet. It’s more than chasing down an orgasm. It’s like I’m being enveloped in everything good, and I don’t want it to stop. I keep my eyes on hers as I sink into her body.

Her mouth drops open, and my name comes out a whisper.

“You feeling that?” I ask.

She whispers a nearly silent yes, and her fingertips drift down my cheek and over my lips. I see her fear. I feel it echoing around in my chest. But I smile. And after a moment, she smiles too.

I get it now, that this is the way it’s supposed to be. This feeling is what I’ve been missing. I slip my finger under the back of her knee and pull her leg up, wrapping it around my waist.

If I could find a way to be any more inside her, I would.

I kiss her as I move until we can’t keep the rhythm any more. I hold myself above her, our eyes locked. The only sounds are her soft pleas for me not to stop, and the whispered affirmation that I make her feel so good.

When I make her come, it’s exactly how I thought it would be—like my world will end if I can’t have her like this again. For the first time in my entire life, I understand what it means to be with someone who will give and not just take.