Chapter 47
Chapter 47
Poppy
"What are you doing?" I sigh as I look at myself in the long mirror.
I pivot from side to side, and my brow arches. I do look good. I like how the lace clings to my hips and breasts, but this... I shake my head. The sexy girl dressed in a lace babydoll dress with a matching white lace thong just isn't me. It isn't Julian and my relationship. We are casual and effortless. As hot as this image is, it's not how I want our first time.
I peel off the lace and replace it with a plain black silk matching PJ set. This is me, and I want Julian to see me the first time we have sex. The leather and lace can be stashed for later when the wrinkles set in, and I feel more desperate to catch his attention.
That's right. Tonight is the night. It's our last night in Tahoe, and after everything we have shared, it just feels right.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. I've blotted the sweat on my brow so much I'm shocked the hand towel doesn't have a hole in it from all the rubbing. At first, I swiped so much mascara that it looked like I was applying for a traveling circus, so I had to wash my face and just went for that clean girl makeup vibe. A little skin tint, some blush, and lip gloss that isn't sticky.
Leaning on the bathroom counter, I begin considering my next move with the seriousness of a general plotting a battle strategy. You see, I'm the sort of woman who adores making lists – grocery lists, to-do lists, and now, intriguingly, a sex checklist. There's a peculiar, almost comedic thrill in checking off boxes, a kind of giddy rush that's probably only rivaled by shouting 'Bingo!' in the middle of a heated game at the local community center.
Julian has no idea I'm planning on trying to seduce him tonight. Do I just walk out and straddle him? That's what Harper would suggest.
I shake my head. I don't want to call my bestie because she will only cause my anxiety to heighten, no doubt suggesting some sexual routine that only a prima ballerina can contort into.
"Just get out there," I chide myself. One last look in the mirror gives me all the confidence I need.
"He loves me," I whisper as I bite back a grin.
Gingerly closing the bathroom door, I start down the long hallway of his Lake Tahoe mansion. The hall, with its rich wooden floors, exudes the warmth and charm of a high-end ski lodge, complete with the soft rustle of plush rugs underfoot and the earthy scent of polished wood. Artwork celebrating the wilderness and mounted antlers intermittently grace the walls.
This decision wasn't made lightly, and I didn't make it because he said those three life-changing words.
They, whoever those wise people are, say when you know, you know.
I know.
I know I want Julian to be the first man I willingly give myself to.
I know I'm ready to erase my past and rewrite it with cherished moments.
"Yes!" I hear Julian shout from down the hall. The crowd on the TV roars, and the commentator yells touchdown.
Approaching the living room, my heart flutters with nervous anticipation. This room is the heart of the cabin-like luxury, with its large, welcoming leather sofas gathered around a majestic stone fireplace. The fireplace crackles with a life of its own, casting a soft, reassuring light across the room. Outside, the large windows frame a breathtaking scene of mountains.
I pause, taking a moment to gather my thoughts and calm my nerves. "You've got this," I silently encourage myself, my voice a mere whisper in the room's grandeur.
When I enter the living room, I see Julian leaning forward on the caramel leather couch, his fist tight around his beer bottle, body tense, smiling wide as he cheers the TV.
The moment I step into view, his eyes instantly pivot to mine, drawn by an unseen magnetic force that seems to bridge the space between us. His initial smile, warm and welcoming, subtly transforms into an expression of deep, unmistakable lust.
Is there a neon sign above my head that says, Baby, I want to have sex tonight!
It's not the first night I've walked around in these pajamas. Julian himself is wearing a navy T-shirt and grey cotton shorts. But there is something charging the air that tells him I'm ready.
His throat rolls as he swallows, his eyes raking me up and down. He sets his beer down and stands; as he raises, his smile stretches. His intense gaze holds mine in a silent, electrifying connection that sends waves of anticipation coursing through me.
"You look beautiful," he says.
My steps are slow and hesitant as I close the distance. I'm nervous; I feel like I'm walking a DUI test as I try to make sure my steps are even and I don't sway.
With each step I take towards him, I notice the almost imperceptible changes in his stance – a readiness, an eagerness, a silent acknowledgment of the chemistry we share. The air hums with tension, thick with unspoken yearnings and whispered promises. The firelight dances across his features, casting him in a play of light and shadow that accentuates the rugged yet refined angles of his face, now softened by a hint of vulnerability as his gaze intensively explores mine.
"Poppy?" he whispers his question, his voice gentle, but his eyes longing.
I pause for a moment, letting the sound of my name on his lips wash over me. I nod without needing to confirm with words that tonight is the night. I'm ready. I take his hand, push up on my toes, which is hard because he's so tall, and kiss him. It's gentle, slow, and exploratory at first. It helps build my confidence.
The gentle questioning in his voice quickly fades as his hands reach out, grasping my body with a firm yet tender touch. He lifts me effortlessly, a gesture I've come to understand he deeply enjoys. The worry about his shoulder no longer crosses my mind; his strength is unmistakable, and there's an unspoken understanding that he's well aware of his own limits.
As he holds me close, the world seems to narrow down to just the two of us. The subtle scent of his cologne, mingled with the natural warmth of his skin, envelops me, creating an intoxicating aura.
Can Sephora bottle this? Because I'd buy it, along with every other woman wanting to smell a real man.
I feel like I'm in a Hallmark movie, and I'm finally getting my happy ending.Pun intended.
In his embrace, there's a sense of being utterly cherished yet desired with a raw intensity making my legs squeeze him tighter. The way he holds me, firm yet careful, as if I am something precious and invaluable. As if I'm not the monster that I sometimes see in the mirror.
"Take me to your bed," I mutter over his lips.
His tongue swirls around mine, his teeth nip and suck, they move from my mouth to my jawline to my neck, back and forth, all over, so hungry, like he's starved.
Well, he is. I've made him wait patiently. But it's also been torturous for me too. Healing is a slow process that doesn't just involve the individual but also those in your inner circle.
"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice thick with lust and deep from labored breaths.
I nod. His eyes hold mine, wanting my words. "I want you to show me what love is, Julian. Teach me how to love you."
He begins to walk us to his room. His lips kissing and sucking my neck so hard I feel it in my core. "I don't need to teach you how to love me, Pumpkin. You're doing that already. But I'll show you what my love feels like."
As soon as we enter his bedroom, the air grows thicker. He stops kissing me; our eyes connect like an anchor to the bow of a ship, forever attached.
Slowly, he lowers me to his bed; my back hits the plush comforter. I feel like I'm on a cloud, and some god from Olympus is here to ravage me.
Julian hovers above me, his gray eyes darken to that of molten steel. "You tell me to stop any time, got it?"
"Yes," I gulp. I reach up and pull his lips to mine again. It's tender at first, an unhurried exploration of each other's bodies. He's so hard where I'm soft and squishy. But I don't feel self-conscious over my lack of muscle. He's worshiping my body with his lips.
He skillfully pops open the buttons of my shirt, revealing my breasts to his passionate gaze. A sudden shiver of cold brushes over them, swiftly replaced by the comforting warmth of his breath cascading across my skin. His lips descend with a tender urgency, capturing my nipple in a heated, wet embrace. Waves of pleasure ripple through me beneath the gentle exploration of his tongue. He then shifts his attention to the other, leaving a trail of cool air that teases my sensitized skin. This mixture of heat and coolness ignites a fervent desire within me. The sounds of his lips, soft and rhythmic against my flesh, stir an arousal so intense that I find myself almost embarrassed by the depth of my own desire.
Surely this can't be normal? If it is, I'm pissed I've been missing out. No toy I have can make my body shake like Julian does.
"You taste like my new favorite drug," he purrs as his hands come up to cup each of my breasts, kneading them in ways that send electric shocks to my core.
"Drug addict. That's a red flag," I kid.
He tweaks my nipple; my head tilts to the side as I moan. "Sassy in bed. A turn-on," he rebuts, smiling.
"Nervous," I correct him. My heart rivals a hummingbird's. If I die of a heart attack before his dick is inside of me, it will just be a cruel joke.
He lowers his face to my stomach. "You should be. I'm going to make you forget everything," he vows, then he licks me from my belly button, curving to the side to press his hot, wet tongue over each nipple, up and up until his tongue clashes with mine.
Dear god, have mercy. I thought he was my angel, but angels can't move their tongues like that.
Devils do.
My hands inch up, and I peel his shirt off. Hard, taut muscle crafted through years of military training looms over me. I should have left his shirt on. He's too much. The room is dim, but the setting sun leaks light through the curtains.
I swallow. "Can we make it darker?"
He shakes his head. "No more running, Pumpkin. I want to see you. I want you to see every inch of me."
I know if I pushed, he'd do whatever I wanted, but he's right. No more running.
We're both naked now. Flesh to flesh and all that jazz. I've been avoiding looking at his cock. I don't need to peek because I can feel every long, thick inch of it gliding back and forth through my wet lips. Just teasing and driving me insane.
His tip glides over my clit, and I moan. My fingers sink into his shoulder as my back arches and hips wiggle to try to get him to nudge inside.
"Do you feel how wet you are for me, Poppy?" His voice is raspy.
I nod. "I still don't think you'll fit," I blurt out, then through the narrow gap of our bodies, I look down.
Huge mistake.
Huge.
There are plenty of videos scaring women about giving birth, but where are the videos warning women about allowing huge dicks to enter their bodies!
I need a video!I need breathing techniques and possibly an epidural.
Perhaps a semester of lessons because there is no way it will fit.
He chuckles as he glides his hand between us, cutting off my view. "It'll fit just fine. I just need to get you ready for me." His fingers begin to inch closer to my opening.
"Ready?" I murmur, my words nearly lost as I struggle to peer through the fog of ecstasy enveloping me. "Training for weeks would barely suffice. You can't simply thrust an amateur into a triathlon, Julian."
"Consider me your coach," he declares, a devilish grin playing on his lips. As he slides a thick finger inside of me, my back instinctively arches, pressing my sensitized breasts against the firmness of his chest. It feels like static electricity is showering my body. I just…need him. Every inch of him.
His exhale sounds like sin. "You're so tight."
It feels tight until he starts to wiggle his finger and circle my clit with another. Then I feel looser, fuzzier, dazed like a puppy in a window, eagerly wagging its tail at the sight of its owner.
My hips are moving naturally to chase more of that feeling. I'm riding his hand, and I could care less because, my god, it feels like heaven.
"You want more?" he murmurs, his tone dripping with playful seduction.
I nod fervently, my plea almost a whisper. "Yes…Julian, please."
He adds another finger and pushes them in and out, widening them as he does so. "Oh…god... Julian. Don't stop."
He doesn't hesitate. Bending down, he covers my nipple with his lips and sucks forcefully. The sensation shoots through me, and I come on his hand harder than I ever have with my toys. He catches my moans in his mouth, kissing me with a broad, satisfied grin.
"Mmm, I love the taste of your cries," he whispers, the words dripping with dark, sensual delight.
I'm done.
This is heaven, but his words are sins that are dragging me back down to earth, where he continues to ravage me.
Julian leans back on his haunches, watching me as I regain a somewhat normal breathing rhythm. He slowly raises his hand and sucks his fingers into his mouth.
Hold on. Rewind. I'm not prepared for that!
I try to clench my legs shut, but his knees stop me. His eyes look down at my body on display for him. He dips slightly, his hands widening over my thighs, and then he bends down, running his tongue between my folds like he's tasting the sweet delight of chocolate candy.
There's a strange sound in the room, deep and guttural moans that I realize are coming from me! I wrap my forearm over my mouth and bite down, trying to survive the pleasure that is going to drown and overtake me. He's done this before, but each time, it keeps getting better.
Between circling his tongue around my clit, he adds another finger, hitting my bullseye on a spot that I can rarely find. He's made me come before, but never from hitting my G-spot. And…it's so different, like a force that doesn't just blast around you, but rather, through you.
I might actually erupt, my body igniting into flames, and then in one of those sci-fi movies, my ashes will just float up and poof away. I'll be reborn.
That's what an orgasm from Julian feels like.
He leans up, his lips wet and slick with my arousal, a wide, confident grin plastered on his face. I stare at him, panting like a couch potato who hasn't moved in a week.
"I can't believe you did that." Did I just say that? Yeah, I did. He's used to it.
"Why?" he beams.
"You found my g-spot," I say, deadpan.
He grins with a devilish glint in his eyes. "I'm good at playing hide and seek, Pumpkin." He licks his lips. "I'll always find you, Poppy. Always."
The sound of my swallow rivals a sonic boom. "And what if I..." I bulge my eyes and look lower.
"What?"
"What if I taste... you know..."
He licks his lips. "You taste like the woman I love." He bends down and kisses me, letting me taste myself.
"Do you want me to stop? Is it too much?" he asks genuinely.
"No, I don't want you to stop, even though I'm practically DOA right now."
He snorts playfully. "Well, I better revive you," he replies. He reaches to the side and grabs a condom from his nightstand. I shouldn't watch as he rolls it on, but I can't look away. He's magnificent, like a huge storm that will destroy parts of you, but you're a lovesick fool who loves watching thunderstorms anyway.
Julian's so in control and confident, but I feel like a live wire. The anticipation is killing me. I don't think about my past, only about the stormy-eyed man hovering over me. That's when I shocked Julian and myself. I reach down between our slick bodies and grasp his cock. It feels hard and velvety in the palm of my hand. I guide it to my entrance, running the tip over my clit.
His eyes close. "Fuck, Poppy," he groans.
I guide him to my entrance, then move my hips up and side to side. Right away, I feel the stretch when he begins to enter me. My hips lower, then raise again.
"I love you," Julian says. His hands snake under me, arching my ass up, pushing him deeper.
"I love you, too," I whisper because speaking is almost impossible. Only sounds escape my lips after.
The both of us, together, work slowly, pushing, guiding until he's entirely inside of me. My heart is hammering. He lowers his forehead to mine, struggling not to move as he allows me to adjust to his size.
"Are you ok?" he asks through labored pants.
I nod. "I need you to move." My body feels all tingly. I want to feel that high again.
He nods in understanding. "I'll be gentle," he says as he pulls out, then pushes back in.
"Julian," I gasp at the feeling. He does it again, this time grinding down so his lower pelvis rubs against my clit.
"You feel like you were made for me, Poppy," he admits as his thrusts become more rushed. "I'd wait a thousand lifetimes if it meant I could be with you."
A tear rolls down my eyes; a fever builds in my body. Our hands are frantic, our eyes locked, mouths gaped open as a feral need takes control of our bodies. The sound of skin slapping fills the room.
"Tell me how it feels. I want words, Pumpkin."
You want me to put words together? I can't even remember what the letters of the alphabet are.
"Tight," I moan, "Hard. So good."
The sound of my slurred words echoes in the air, competing with his thrusts. I hear my own comments on replay and realize what he's doing, engraving the details in my memory to erase the bad ones.
"Look how well you're taking me. Your body is squeezing mine, sucking it back in. You want this. Crave it." He says in a rough voice.
Dirty talk? I didn't think I'd like it, but a surge of wetness coats his cock as it slams back into me.
"More," I blabber, trying to move my hips to match his thrust and add more friction.
His mouth rewards me by sucking on my nipple. Hard.
"I'm gonna..." I try to say, but he just nods, unable to speak; his thrusts turn sloppy and frantic. I feel the jerk of his cock inside of me, his hips grind down, adding the pressure I need against my clit as we collide and come together.
Am I dead?
No, you're finally alive.
We lay in silence, only our heavy exhales filling the room. "Did I hurt you?" he asks with worry.
"No. It was perfect." I sigh. "I came." More than once, too.
He stills. "You've come before." He states with questioning eyes. Shit, he's going to think I was faking it the other times.
"I meant I came well having sex. That has never happened before." I bite my lip. "Actually, you're the first guy to make me come. Every other time has only been with a toy." I bashfully admit. "And it was never like that. Someone needs to make a mold of your cock because you'd sell out shelves, Julian."
He tips his head back, and a deep laugh fills the room as he lies down beside me. He's smiling so wide it's infectious.
"I'm happy you never came before. I like knowing that I'm the only one who got to see you unravel."
"Unravel? I feel boneless," I lay limp beside him, aware we're both naked but have no concern about what I look like at all.
Then it hits me. "Oh fuck," I exhale. "You're my ten."
"Is that a good thing?" he tosses one arm over his head and tugs me closer to his side.
"Harper says everyone will meet their ten. It's the best sex they will ever have. After you meet your ten, you're done. No more tens after that. No one else will compare."
"Good, because you're not going near another man. You're mine, Pumpkin. That Pumpkin pussy is mine," Julian replies, turning his head to kiss the top of mine.
I slap his heaving chest playfully. "You can't just blow my mind then call my pussy that."
"Sure I can." His hand comes down and smacks my ass. "I got your pussy to come; I think she will let me call her anything I want."
Well… he's got me there.