“No. You wouldn’t be,” I gasped, unable to keep my hands at my sides. I touched her cheek. Threaded my fingers through her silky hair. “It’s funny, though.”
“What is?”
“I may be the one standing, but it’s me who is still bowing to you.”
Her smile was wide, crinkling the skin at the corners of her eyes. And, gods, those smiles…they were too rare. Too exquisite.
“Deserving,” she whispered.
And then she took me into her mouth.
My shout was rough, echoing through the small chamber. Probably the whole damn building. I didn’t care. The entire world centered on the feel of her mouth, the slide of her tongue as she kept moving her hand, working me with artful perfection.
But I kept myself still. I didn’t tug on her hair. I didn’t fuck her mouth. I didn’t—
Poppy took me deep—deeper than I thought she would—and sucked. My hips jerked. My hand tightened in her hair. I nearly rose to the tips of my toes. “What godsdamn chapter in Miss Willa’s diary was that in?”
Her laugh was a hum that nearly broke me, and I could sense the rapid increase in her pulse and breath. She enjoyed this, finding pleasure in pleasuring me. And that was its own powerful aphrodisiac. My hips moved then. I couldn’t stop myself. My hand flattened on the back of her head. My head falling back, I shook. Nothing. Nothing in any realm compared to her. I was close, the tightening becoming taut. My thrusts were less shallow, less gentle.
Groaning, I pulled out of her mouth. Her hand on my hip firmed, but I gave her no choice. I hauled her onto her feet and brought my mouth to hers. She tasted of the fruity drink that had been served with the stew. I backed her up, lifting the borrowed tunic.
“You should be proud of me,” I said when we parted long enough for me to pull the shirt over her head. “I didn’t tear this off.”
Her laugh was my personal sun. “Very proud.”
I guided her to the bed, visions of settling between those plump thighs and sinking deep into her dancing in my head. But Poppy placed her hands on my shoulders and turned me.
Pushing me down to my ass and then onto my back, she climbed onto the bed, her knees on either side of my hips, straddling me.
“Fuck,” I gasped, my heart pounding.
Her hair fell forward, sliding against my chest as she reached between us, palming my cock. I didn’t even know what I said when I felt her wet heat against the head of my cock. Could’ve been a prayer. My hands went to her hips, steadying her as she began to lower herself, inch by sweet, hot inch. I feared this would be over before she even fully seated herself.
“Gods,” she breathed, stiffening as our pelvises met. The fingers on my chest dug in. A soft, feminine sound left her as she withdrew slowly, to where only the tip was left, and then slid back down.
Poppy continued the breathtaking rise and fall, finding her rhythm and angle. Her back arched as she rocked above me.
I liked control. Had always been that way. But with Poppy…watching her find her way, watching her live and love without shame? Nothing was more powerful. More earth-shattering. I’d gladly give up control over and over for this—for her.
But then she began to really move.
Faster. Harder. I met her movements, fingers sinking into the flesh of her hips. The feel of her was slick and tight as she squeezed my dick. The sight of her—her full breasts, the curve of her waist, the creases at her thighs, and all that flushed flesh—was my undoing.
Poppy gripped my left wrist, drawing the hand that’d once had the ring from her hip to her breast—her heart. Her fingers threaded with mine.
She owned me.
Heart and soul.
As she rode me harder, I slid a hand to where we were joined. I found that bundle of nerves, pressing down with my thumb.
“Oh, gods,” she cried out, and I felt her spasm around me as she jerked.
“I think you like that.” I groaned as she ground against me.
“I do,” she panted. “A lot.”
Her breathy moans and my grunts filled the dimly lit chamber, joining the slick sounds of our bodies coming together. My fangs throbbed. I wanted her vein, but I’d already taken too much. So, I focused on how she fit as if I were made for her. How she moved over me with wild abandon and all the love and trust she gave to me. Was always giving me.
I wanted to stay deep inside her for hours—lose myself in her. But she was in me, under my skin, and wrapped around my heart as tightly as she was around my cock.
Bracing herself, she leaned forward, curling her hand under my head. She brought my mouth to her breast. To the hard nipple and the two puncture wounds I’d left behind earlier. I closed my mouth over the hardened nub.