Jaxson
Once when we were kids, I dared Poppy to jump down from my tree house, and she took off like a bird without hesitation. Thankfully, she landed safe on the waiting swampy grass below, spread out on all fours like a frog. I remember watching her, my heart stopping as she sank down to earth. I also distinctly remember that day because the first thought I had when she hit the ground wasthat girl is gorgeous. And I meant both inside and out. But it was also the first time I realized I loved her.
And here we are all these years later and she continues to be the only girl, the only woman who takes my breath away.
Poppy looks up at me with her knees sunk to the floor, her lips full and puckered like a blowup doll just inches from my dick. Poppy is every grown man’s wet dream. Those enormous doe eyes, those foot-long lashes. She’s a jewel to look at, but it’s what’s on the inside that radiates her true beauty.
She reaches over and claps her cool hand around me, pulling me toward her as she wraps her mouth around the tip, and I arch my head back and suck in a breath through my teeth. She rides me slow, up and down, does this suction thing with her mouth that makes me ten times harder than before, and a roar thunders through me.
Poppy gets me there ten times faster than I’ve ever gotten there, but before I lose it, I scoop her off the floor and land a heated kiss to her lips.
“Your impressive skills worry the hell out of me.”
She bubbles out a laugh. “Be afraid. I have tricks up my vagina you will never see coming.” She wrinkles her nose. “Wow, that was laced with unintentional innuendo. I guess that makes me a natural.”
“You are a natural.” I land a kiss to the nape of her neck before setting her on her feet. “A natural temptress.” I work off her lacey white top and lay it gently on the nightstand as if it were a newborn. I start on her jeans and before too long realize that this might be an unattainable feat. “You take these off with scissors at night?”
“No.” She snaps back with that wry smile budding on her lips. “I get in the bath and let the paint melt off.”
“I’d laugh, but I need to get in there.”
“Oh? Did you lose a contact on your last visit?”
“I lost my mind.” I give her pants a quick yank, and a horrible tearing sound emits. “Shit.”
She sucks in a quick breath. “You ripped them!”
“I’m sorry.” I hold my hands in the air a moment like the pants ripping asshole I apparently am. “I swear I’ll replace them.” I try like hell to hold down a laugh. “I’ll buy you a whole new wardrobe to make up for it.”
“Fine.” Her cheek twitches because I happen to know I’m speaking her language. Poppy has been a clotheshorse for as long as I’ve known her. “But, be warned, I have expensive taste.”
“I can see that,” I muse at her half-naked waist. “I imagine water-soluble pants can set you back a pretty penny.”
“Setyouback.” She does her best to shimmy out of them, but they get stuck around her hips. “I think I just need to get on the bed. It’s an old trick you boys wouldn’t know anything about.” She flops onto the mattress backward and starts gyrating her hips while her thumbs hitch into the sides of her pants. “You just have to sort of—”
“Do the worm? Or is that the alligator?”
She scowls over at me while her movements become more erratic.
A dull laugh huffs from me. “Why do I get the feeling you weren’t really looking to get any action tonight? Heck, I don’t think you were looking to use the bathroom. You got a diaper on under there?”
“Shut up and start pulling.” She gasps as she twists her way toward me. “I think they’re starting to give.”
My fingers work themselves into her belt loops, and I secure a foot over the mattress, ready to pants her like a pro.
“Hold on to the girls. These pants are going down.” I give a violent yank, and they dislodge with ease as if they were suddenly greased.
The momentum lands me slamming into the curtains, and I do a quick pivot to keep from falling. I end up wrapping myself in the cottony gauze before tripping—knocking the candle off the dresser and landing half the left side of the bedroom onto the floor along with taking down the curtain rod.
“Oh my God!” Poppy roars. “Fire!”
“Fire?” I try to prop myself up, but I’ve encased myself in a white veiled cocoon. Something heated springs near my feet as the curtains fill with smoke.
“Shit!” she cries before beating the crap out of me with a pillow.
The flames roll forward into a bright red surge as the room flickers with the immanent blaze.
“Fuck.” I stumble to my feet, doing a little dance to get myself free from the Chinese yoyo the curtains have become, and spot Poppy fanning me from afar. “You’re feeding the flames!” I take the pillow from her as I hop out of the damn contraption.
