see . . .
Her leap. Not a fall into pleasure, but rather, an absolute wingless flight into floating bliss. It sends me tumbling, spiraling wildly after her.
“Poppy!” I growl, plunging into her. My balls tighten before spilling over, my orgasm carrying me away as I fill her with hot spurts of my seed. She holds me, her legs locked around my waist as she quivers, her own climax sending aftershocks through her body that seem heightened with every jet of my release.
In the silence that follows, I collapse, holding her in my arms as I sag into the sweat-soaked sheets. For damning her, I feel . . . lighter. Like maybe, in all of that, she did shine a little bit of light on my soul.
Poppy curls into me, kissing my chest softly and humming happily until she stiffens suddenly, her body going tense. “What is it?”
Poppy sits up, blurting out, “I need my laptop.”
Okay . . . uhm, not what I expected. Then again, I expected tears, anger, and getting thrown out of here, but this is not at all what I thought might happen. “I know. We’ll go get it tomorrow night.”
“No, no . . . the one in the kitchen,” she explains with a happy giggle. “I need to write down my thoughts on this. Right now.”
Without another word, Poppy hops from the bed, as naked as the day she was born, and runs from the room. I lie there, stunned. I don’t think I can ever say this has happened before, and I’m not sure what to do . . . or even what the fuck is going on.
She said her thoughts on this, obviously meaning the sex we just had. Is she going to give me a report card? Like a ‘needs improvement’ and ‘exceeds expectations’ type deal? I’m down for feedback, but that’s a bit much, right?
But before I decide whether I should get up and get dressed or follow her to the dining area, she’s back with her cheap little backup laptop in her hands, almost leaping into the bed to flop down next to me. Yanking the cover open, she starts typing.
I look over, wondering exactly what she’s typing about, but she doesn’t seem to mind as I start reading her story.
. . . his eyes roam over my body, the searing heat trailing behind like his laser intensity is real. His hunger is a palpable thing, as real and physical as his sexy, chiseled chest, and when he reaches for me, I can’t resist even though I know I should.
This isn’t what good girls do.
She keeps typing, so fast that her cursor stays ahead of my reading. I’m surprised steam isn’t rising from the keys of the cheap little computer, not only because of how fast she’s typing but how super hot and over the top it is.
I mean, it’s sexy as hell, and I sort of wonder if more men should read romance like this. They might learn a trick or two.
“And . . . yeah, the clit thing,” Poppy murmurs, lifting a finger before going off on another speedy rush of flying fingers and smokin’ hot words on the page.
“Is this what you usually write?” I ask when her fingers slow a bit.
“Shh, wait one second,” she responds, holding up one finger in the universal ‘wait’ sign.
She taps the keyboard without typing and then reads what she’s written aloud. Listening to Poppy’s breathy, sexy voice read what she’s written transforms the words from being ‘lady porn’ to a shot of Viagra-laced Redbull straight to my dick. My buddy’s rock hard, got wings, and is ready for round two. And maybe three and four.
“Does that sound okay?” she asks when she’s done. “It’s a first draft, so it’s okay if it doesn’t.”
I roll to my back, taking my cock in my fist and showing her the effects she’s had on me. “It sounds hot as fuck when you read it. And it’s sexy that you have those filthy thoughts in your head.”
She watches me, her tongue peeking out to wet her lips. “Sweet Lord.”
“Read it again.”
She does, her voice slow and deep, seducing me with her mouth in a way that I’ve never imagined. Sure, her being sexy and still nude, the smell of sex in the air, and memories of what we just did helps . . . but it’s her words that have me hard once more.
“What’s next?” I rasp when she reaches the end of the passage.