Page 23 of In Your Dreams

She stares at me for a long while, eye locked with mine like a game of erotic chicken. Except we both know she has to say it.

Poppy stands up, leaning over top of me. She pulls one knee up to my thigh, swinging her leg over to straddle me and sinks down until her center is flush with my lap. It’s important for my manhood to note that I’m not the same boy who got half chubs just from smelling her hair and until this moment, I’ve been a good boy. But I can feel myself growing against her.

“I haven’t done anything like this in a long time,” she says. “Wayne stopped touching me a long time ago.”

“That’s his loss,” I say, running my hands up her thighs.

“And before him, I didn’t-” Her words trail off.

“Poppy?” I say, making sure I have her full attention. “It’s okay. We don’t have to-”

“No,” she cuts me off. “I want to. I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”

Ah fuck. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to explain to her how impossible that is. She could literally dress in a clown suit and ask me to spit in her mouth and I would. I mean, I don’t want to, but I would.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” I say, hoping to put her mind at ease. I squeeze her thigh, wanting so badly to run my hands all over. But I won’t. Not until she tells me to.

Poppy tilts her head down, pressing her lips gently against the corner of my mouth. Her forehead rests against mine as she inhales slowly.

“Parker?” She whispers.

“Yeah?” I exhale.

“Go.”

I place my hands on either side of her face, bringing her mouth to mine in a frenzy. I press my lips against hers, licking the seam of her mouth until she opens for me. I deepen the kiss, exploring her with my tongue until she moans against me.

I reach under her, gripping her ass to hold her against me while I stand. She wraps her arms around my neck, holding on as she sucks my bottom lip between her teeth. It takes some skill, but I navigate us down the hall and to my bedroom. I press her against the door as I fumble to open it, kissing her throat and collarbone.

My feet find the edge of the bed and I lay her down, her feet dangling over the side. When I stand up straight, I can’t help but pause, taking in the sight of her lying there.Poppy Jameson is on my bed.

“What?” She whispers, breathing hard.

“There’s a seventeen-year-old self inside me that can’t believe you’re in our bed,” I say.

Poppy giggles as she reaches her hand up toward me. I lean down, her palm running over my chest. I place a kiss on her lips before pulling back to my standing position.

“Take off your shirt,” she says, her voice sweet but commanding. “I’ve been curious about what’s under those tight T-shirts of yours.”

I obey, using one hand to grip the edge of my shirts and lift it over my head in one smooth motion. I’ve always had a sort of naturally athletic build, so if there’s anything I’m confident about, it’s how I look undressed.

Poppy bites her bottom lip as her eyes skate over my torso before reaching my eyes. Before she can say anything, I reach down and undo the button on her jeans.

“Lift.” My one word command is met with an eager thrust into the air. I lift one of her feet, resting it against my shoulder as I remove her boot, then do the same with the other. Once they’re off, I give her belt loops a gentle tug, pulling her pants all the way off.

Her panties are dainty little things, a light blue lace. I take note that she clearly shaved her legs which means she thought this might happen. It’s been my experience that women onlyshave when they’re certain sex might be happening or they’re wearing something that requires it like a skirt or shorts.

“Now you take off your pants,” she says.

I appreciate that she’s being vocal, that she’s expressing what she wants. Aside from being a real turn on, I want to put her doubts of disappointing me out of her mind.

The leather of my belt makes a swift noise as I pull it off. It falls to the floor with a soft thud. I loop my thumbs into the top of my pants and push them down, stepping out of them when they bunch at my ankles.

Before I say anything, she slips her blouse over her head and throw it at me. It hits me in the chest and falls but I’m not paying attention. Because Poppy isn’t wearing a bra and heer tits are fucking beautiful.

She uses one hand to make circles around her perky pink nipple, my mouth beginning to water as it hardens under her touch. Then she switches to the other one, pinching it between her thumb and index finger.

“Goddamn,” I say in a hushed tone. Before she can say anything, I drop to my knees in front of her, positioning myself between her legs. I use my hands to pull her ass closer to the edge of the bed. Using two fingers, I swipe over her clit, still sheathed in thin lace. Her whole body tightens, then releases again. It’s a split second reaction to the touch, an abrupt shock.

---