Overnight bag slung over her shoulder, Poppy followed Rosaline into the house.
“You can just set that down anywhere,” Rosaline said, locking the front door and kicking off her heels, sighing softly as she curled her toes in the plush pile of the colorful runner that stretched down the hall.
Poppy dropped her duffel and clutch near the big planter by the door and steadied herself on the entry table to step out of these godforsaken heels that, at this point, were practically suctioned to her poor feet. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the gilt bronze Rococo-style mirror hanging on the wall over the table.
For all the stress and rigmarole of the day, including her unfortunate red-carpet audition forWWE SmackDown!she didn’t look too shabby. Her hair had fallen flat, and her mascara had started to flake, leaving a faint smudge under her eyes, but it wasn’t nearly as scary a sight as she’d expected.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” Rosaline swept her hair aside, baring her shoulder, a shoulder which she hooked her chin over, wrapping her arms around Poppy’s waist and studying them in the mirror, a small smile flirting at the corners of her lips.
Poppy shook her head and melted back against Rosaline. “You just told me I clean up nice.”
“You do.” Rosaline pressed her lips against the bare skin of Poppy’s shoulder, just behind her dress strap. “Look beautiful.”
“Thanks.” She tipped her head to the side, baring more skin for Rosaline to explore with her mouth, the gentle sweeping brushes of her lips making Poppy’s skin prickle. “But I think we can both agree this dress looks better on the floor.”
Rosaline buried her smile against Poppy’s skin, pressing a too-soft kiss to the spot where her neck met her shoulder. “Do you trust me?”
Poppy had slept with people before with whom she’d trustedonly so far as to stop if she asked them to, the barest of minimums. On the other hand, she’d told Rosaline things only Cash, her closest friend, knew. Of course she trusted her. Trusted her more than she trusted herself right now, probably.
“Of course.”
Rosaline pressed against the small of her back, silently urging her to lean forward.
“I really do like this dress,” she said, reaching for the zipper and sliding it halfway down Poppy’s back. Taller than Poppy now, with her bent over like this, Rosaline’s gaze flickered down, meeting hers in the mirror. “I think maybe it should stay on a little longer.”
She slipped her fingers under the straps and tugged them down Poppy’s arms, making her shiver. The fabric didn’t quite pool, hindered by the zipper. Instead, Rosaline gave the top of the dress a tug until the bodice slipped, baring Poppy’s breasts.
Her face flamed, totally on display and in front of a mirror no less.
Rosaline reached around her body and cupped her breasts, lifting them, thumbs brushing her nipples. They felt heavy, her nipples hardened into taut peaks from the cool air and Rosaline’s simple touch.
“Every part of you is so fuckingpretty,” Rosaline murmured, letting Poppy’s breasts fall, hanging heavy outside her dress. “Can I touch you?” Her hands skirted Poppy’s sides, dragging the fabric of her dress up her thighs, and gathering it around her waist.
Poppy braced her hands against the table, palms flat. “I thought youweretouching me.”
A sting against the back of her hip made her gasp and arch her back, Rosaline having snapped the elastic of her underwearagainst her skin. She shifted restlessly, rubbing her thighs together.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Rosaline said, slipping a leg between Poppy’s knees and knocking a foot against the inside of hers. Taking the hint, Poppy spread her feet apart, sucking in a startled gasp when Rosaline pressed firmly against her back, bending her over the entry table. Poppy’s hands scrambled against the wood, seeking purchase, fingers curling around the back edge closest to the wall as Rosaline slipped a hand under her dress, fingers stroking up the back of her right thigh to the curve of her ass, teasing.
Poppy blinked down at the glossy wood finish, hair spilling over her shoulder in a curtain. “Touch me. Please?”
Rosaline’s lips skimmed the back of Poppy’s neck, a gentle brush that sent a shiver down her spine. “That’s good, Poppy. You’re going to keep being good for me, aren’t you?”
Poppy trembled, breathing fast. “Yeah.”
“Keep your hands on the table, okay? Don’t move them.”
She nodded, keeping her palms braced and holding still as Rosaline’s arms disappeared from around her, the warmth at her back disappearing too. She could’ve lifted her head and looked in the mirror, but there was something heady about the anticipation, about not knowing what Rosaline was going to do, where she was going to touch that set her blood on—
“Oh my god.” Poppy jerked, rising up onto her toes, Rosaline’s mouth suddenly between her legs, her breath hot and damp against Poppy’s panty-covered core.
Rosaline chuckled against her, fingers dipping beneath the elastic at her hips, tugging her panties down her thighs, letting them pool around her feet. Her laughter morphed into a soft, breathless moan.
“Fuck, Poppy,” she rasped, sounding reverent, thumbs parting Poppy’s folds, holding her open. Poppy’s toes curled harder in the rug, her face on fire. “You’re dripping, sweetheart.”
The little term of endearment made her heart clench. “Rosaline.”
There was no warning, just Rosaline’s tongue running up her slit making her jerk hard, one knee knocking into the table.
