Page 127 of Wicked Love

She shifts so her tits are at eye level and I lavish them. I can feel how wet she is on my chest and when she starts rubbing against me, I lift her so she’s on my mouth. Her head falls back with her moan and I savagely suck on her clit until her thighs are shaking. Her pussy is greedy and I give hereverything she wants. When I twist her nipple as she’s starting to flutter against my tongue, she screams my name. Her hands fist my hair as she bucks against me, riding it out until she’s limp.

Then I lower her and her head falls into the crook of my neck. I let her catch her breath for a second, my tip bumping her impatiently, as I try to tell my lower half to behave and have some manners.

“Yes, please,” she says when my cock bobs again, and that’s all the invitation I need.

I glide into her and she’s so ready, so eager. She lifts off of me and then slams back into me, pulling a hoarse cry out of me.

“So good, Poppy,” I rumble. “Do whatever you want with me. I’m yours.”

She goes faster, her breath rasping as she chases her pleasure, and I fucking love it. I love seeing her wild and hungry for me. It’s the best feeling in the whole fucking world. I pump up into her and her head falls back. I take a fist full of her hair and hold on for dear life as I fill her as deep as I can go. Her orgasm creates a call and response. She calls and I follow, spasms shooting through me as I spill into her. My lips find hers and we kiss and kiss and kiss as I keep pulsing inside of her.

“Daddy, Poppy! You wrestle now?” Becca says, sticking her head in the door.

Poppy squeaks and I yank the comforter over us faster than lightning.

“I’m giving your dad a massage,” Poppy says under the covers.

“I…pulled a muscle…lifting boxes for the nursery. We’ll be right out, Becca. Go get a snack and Poppy and I will come out soon. My massage is almost done,” I finish weakly.

“Okay,” Becca says happily, closing the door.

Poppy’s head pops out of the comforter and she looks mortified.

“What justhappened?” she whispers.

I press my lips together. “I’m glad if she saw an ass at all that it was yours and not mine. But hopefully she didn’t see anything.” My fingers rub my eyes and I try to scrub the image away of my daughter walking in on us. “She didn’t, right?”

My lips twitch.

“You pulled a muscle?” Poppy says, voice cracking. And then her shoulders shake in silent laughter. “I am so embarrassed,” she wheezes. “God, please give her temporary amnesia over anything she might’ve seen,” she prays, and then I’m laughing too.

We clutch each other as I laugh into her shoulder. As soon as I think I’m past it, I get hit with another round of hysteria.

“Definitely got to lock the door next time,” I barely manage to get out.

When we finally get our bearings and put our clothes back on, we go downstairs. I half expect to be chewed out by my mom, but she acts like nothing out of the ordinary has happened. Mrs. McGregor is here despite having the night off, and for a second, I wonder if she’ll scold me too. Becca is eating a banana and holds out one for me and Poppy.

Poppy looks at me tentatively and I lift my shoulder. Maybe we’re in the clear.

And then Becca puts her hand on her chest and says, “When we wrestle, I wear clothes!”

I can’t look at Poppy. I can’t. My eyes are round with the effort to not burst out laughing again. When I do look at Poppy, her face burns as she presses her lips together.

“Clothes, got it,” I manage, voice strangled, while Poppy coughs to cover a snort.

Becca smiles, pleased with her suggestion.

“Oh!” Poppy yelps. “We have news.”

“Oh my God, only being caught giving massages could sidetrack me from the news,” I say under my breath, sending Poppy into another round of giggles.

She elbows my side and I put my arms around her, pulling her back against my chest.

I hold up her hand and wave it, ring out, to Becca and my mom and Mrs. McGregor. It takes a minute for them to all notice and when they do, they rush toward us.

“Poppy’s going to be my wife,” I say, feeling elated all over again. “She said yes.”

“You get married like Tru and Henley and Elle and Rhodes and Sadie and Weston!” Becca yells. “I wear a pretty pink dress!”

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