Page 73 of Sunshine
Icould be Poppy’s next adventure. Me and Izzy. The three of us.
But the words stick in my throat. The last time I thought a woman would choose me and my daughter over whatever else the world had to offer her, she left us behind without a second glance. A second thought.
I’m not ready to be broken like that again, and I’m not willing to risk Izzy’s heart either.
“I like you, Sunshine,” I confess, a fragment of truth.
Her mouth tips up on one side. “I like you too.”
A beat passes as we sit there, staring, smiling, before Poppy swings her legs underneath her and rises to her knees. I mirror her, the two of us chest to chest in the darkness, and she slides her hands under the hem of my shirt. The brush of her fingertips makes me swallow hard, and she looks up at me with the tiniest tilt to her mouth.
“I don’t expect anything tonight,” I tell her. “I didn’t bring you here for any reason other than I just… I like spending time with you.”
“Dylan,” she says. “Be quiet. You’re not talking me out of it this time.”
My fingertips tingle and anticipation pulses in my throat as she lifts the hem of my long-sleeve Henley, and I help her peel it off my body. She drops it on the floor and then returns her hands to my body, watching them with awe as her palms settle on my chest.
I grit my teeth, nostrils flaring, as every muscle in my body tenses with desire. Her bottom lip catches between her teeth as she sweeps her thumbs over my nipples, and they pinch into hard points. She travels up to my throat, then traces the lines of my collarbones to the sharp tips of my shoulders, and I briefly close my eyes, my dick growing hard as I adjust my tolerance so that I don’t lose control too soon.
She’s exploring, and it’s a different kind of torture. Divine torture. And as much as I’m desperate to do the same, to tear the fabric from her body and have her bare in front of me, I keep inhumanly still and let her touch me. Let her know me.
Poppy trails her fingers over my arms, a featherlight touch that leaves goosebumps behind, her attention riveted on the path of her careful strokes as she traces the curve of my shoulders, the shape of my biceps, the thick veins running down my forearms and wrists and branching into the backs of my hands. Her fingers tickle across my hip bones, following the muscles to the waist of my jeans, then up again along the hard planes of my abdominals, the sensitive skin over my rib cage.
My breath grows shallow, and my self-discipline frays to the point of pain, but I don’t move. I don’t speak. I don’t dare. Because the whole time I’m watching her, she’s got her eyes on her hands, swallowing deeply whenever they hit a new rise or valley, her tongue darting out when I inhale sharply, her brow furrowed ever so slightly like she’s committing each line to memory.
There’s a defenselessness on her face, a kind of naive wonder that doesn’t fit the bright confidence she presents to the world. She’s letting down her guard, and it’s only now I realized she had one in the first place. It’s not the kind someone might expect from her; Poppy has every reason to be cynical, standoffish, or harsh after the hurts of her childhood. But no. Poppy hides behind hope. Believing in something better than what she has today is what gets her through until tomorrow.
Empathy and warmth explode inside me. The unknown keeps her moving. The unknown makes her feel safe.
I want to wrap this woman in my arms and never let her go.
Poppy gets to her feet, taking my hands to indicate I should do the same. I keep my face forward but let my eyes drift closed, arousal clawing at me as Poppy slowly rounds my body, dusting my arm, my shoulder, and my back with reverent kisses that make the hairs on my arms stand on end. Her fingertips ghost against my skin, and then one hand cups the curve of my ass, and she completes her circuit. She reaches up on her toes, kissing me almost shyly, her tongue barely sweeping against mine. She leaves behind the taste of cherry on my mouth, and then—someone fucking restrain me before I lose it—she falls to her knees.
Poppy looks up at me with big, gray-green eyes while she unbuttons my jeans and drags them down my legs and over my ankles. My cock throbs thick and hard against the cotton of my boxer briefs, pulsing and twitching as Poppy smooths her palms up my thighs before hooking her fingertips into the elastic of them.
She pulls them down, my dick springs free, and her satisfied hum nearly unravels me. I thread my fingers into her hair, trying not to hold too tight as my fingers curl into fists, and Poppy wraps her fingers around the base of my dick, leans in, and licks the drop of pre-cum beading on the crown. Her tongue darts outwith a gratified moan, and I drop my head back, eyes pressed shut, and beg my body not to betray me again by blowing all over her pretty face.
Poppy drags her nails up the back of one thigh, latches on to my ass, and with the other hand gripping my dick, she slides my length into her hot, wet mouth.
I grunt, thighs flexing, hips starting to thrust, but I’m big. I need to be gentle. Sweat beads on my forehead with the strength it takes not to fuck her throat the way I want to, but when my fingers curl harder in her hair, hard enough to sting, Poppy only moans wantonly, tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing, taking me deeper than I thought possible. She grips my ass with bruising force, encouraging me to thrust harder, and I do, cupping her face with my other hand as she bobs breathlessly on my cock.
I hit the hard back of Poppy’s throat and she gags, and I’m a monster because it sounds so fucking hot. My legs tremble with the need to come, but I can’t let that be the reason we’re here tonight. Though it pains me to do it, I still my hips and gently guide Poppy’s mouth off my dick.
She releases me with a wet pop and sad eyes that almost convince me to say fuck it all and release down her throat, but the temptation of her pussy on my tongue and my fingers and my cock is all the incentive I need to drag her to her feet, my fingers already fumbling at the buttons on her baggy cardigan and pushing it off her shoulders.
“But Dylan—”
“Fuck, no, Sunshine. You can suck my dick all you want another time. Tonight, I’m not coming anywhere else but deep inside your tight, wet pussy.”
I strip away the skin-tight tank she’s wearing underneath, lifting it up over her raised arms, then slip off her bra, revealing perfect pink peaks studded with those delicate silver bars. I drag her jeans over her hips, taking her panties with them. They’redamp, and the confirmation that Poppy gets off on getting me off is fuel on an already raging fire.
When we’re both fully naked, the tips of her nipples brushing my chest, the head of my cock nudging the soft, inked skin of her stomach, I slide my hand behind her neck and draw her close for a kiss. Then I whisper in her ear.
“My turn.”
twenty-one
Poppy
