I feel like I’m floating, watching us from above as he leans back, standing at the foot of the bed, our bodies still connected. At this angle he has full access to me, and he uses the pad of his thumb to circle my clit.
My back arches off the bed, as he strokes me inside andout. Warm threads of pleasure unfurl and unwind through my body, extending into my limbs and somehow, beyond me. I’ve come to learn this feeling, to know that my release is close.
When I peer up at Jett, his expression has shifted, from hunger and desire to satiation and lust. That’s what sends me over the edge, the way he’s watching my pussy take him. The way he’s getting off on watching my body writhe and buck beneath him.
My pleasure is his aphrodisiac, his undoing.
And God, being in this moment with him is a privilege.
My orgasm tears through my core, every muscle tightening and clenching and singing his praises. I cry out a word that sounds like his name, and he responds with a shudder and a groan that lets me know he’s found his release, too.
Jett slumps over me, his hand finding the angle of my jaw, fingers gripping the back of my neck as he pulls me in for a kiss. It’s tender and soft, and something swells within me.
“Thank you, Poppy,” Jett whispers into the space between us.
“For what?” I ask.
His dark irises glisten as they dart between my eyes.
“For letting me be your first.”
He places his lips softly on my forehead before pulling away from me and retreating to the bathroom. I scoot up the bed and bask in my post-orgasmic glow.
When Jett returns, he’s got a warm washcloth in hand and he lays next to me, his body matching the outline of mine from behind. He cleans me up, all while planting gentle kisses on my shoulder.
When he’s done, he pulls the blanket at the foot of thebed over us both and wraps me in his arms. We settle into each other, enjoying the soft comfort of our bodies pressed against each other, the hazy afternoon light streaming through my sheer curtains.
I turn myself around in his arms to face him. His eyes are closed, and I brush a dark brown tendril of hair away from his forehead. He blinks his eyes open to look at me, a sated smile tugging at his mouth.
“Do you give all the women you sleep with this kind of treatment?” I ask.
Picturing Jett flirting, picking up women is easy, but I’ve never stopped to think about how he acts once the deed is done. Wren’s words have been niggling at the back of my mind, and I know she’s right about me being inexperienced, there’s this other voice in my head telling me that might have been just as special for him as it was for me.
“Not all of them,” he answers, his voice sleepy and relaxed. I don’t know how to feel about it, or what he really means.
“Just the ones that stand out from the crowd?” I tease.
“No,” he says. “Just you.”
CHAPTER 38
JETT
The golden morninglight shining through the curtains wakes me, and it takes me a moment to become aware of my surroundings. All I know before I open my eyes is that I’m warm, and there’s a deep contentment that I haven’t had waking up in a long time.
There’s movement next to me, and I crack my eyes open to see Poppy, snuggled under my arm, her head resting on my peck.
Her dark eyelashes flutter against her cheeks, dark wispy bangs in disarray and pushed off her face. A smile takes over my face, and an unmistakable joy is about to burst from my chest.
It’s been a lot of that over the last few days.
Winning the World Cup qualifier, coming home to see Poppy, the intimate moments we shared yesterday, and last night. Several times. But this feeling is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. It’s one I want to live in forever, right here with Poppy.
She shifts on me, eyes fluttering open as she reaches herhand up to rub them. Something aches behind my sternum. It’s almost painful, the way I love her.
I turn on my side so I can pull her close to me, and bury my nose in her hair, kissing the top of her head. She makes anmmmsound that has almost a hint of a tease in the tone of it, and before I have time to react, I understand why.
Her small hand is trailing down the ridges of my abdomen and she curls her fingers around my morning wood, stroking the tip with her thumb. The sound that comes out of my throat is somewhere between a moan and a groan, and when she pumps me in her fist it awakens my need to ravish her the way we’ve been doing since I arrived back in Heartwood.
