Page 53 of Broken Rivalry

We stand there for what feels like an eternity, locked in each other’s gaze, until she finally breaks the silence. “Ethan, I want this. I want us.”

My heart races, the thumping loud in my ears as I take in her words, her vulnerability, her trust. “Poppy,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion, “I want this too, more than you can imagine. But I want you to be sure, completely sure.”

Her eyes, a deep, enchanting brown, search mine as if seeking assurance in my sincerity. “I am sure.” She reaches into the pocket of her dress and retrieves a condom. “I came prepared.”

A low chuckle rumbles in my throat as my fingers trace the curve of her cheek, the softness of her skin sending shivers down my spine. “I promise to make this as special for you as it is for me.”

My hands, steady yet trembling with anticipation, cradle hers, holding the small packet between us like a sacred pact. Her eyes, pools of vulnerability and trust, never leave mine as I lean in, our foreheads touching in a silent moment of understanding.

“Poppy,” I breathe, my voice barely a whisper, “I’ve dreamed of this.”

My heart beats wildly in my chest as I take the condom from her, our fingers brushing in a spark of electricity. I pull her close, our bodies aligning in a perfect combination of desire and emotion. Our lips meet, gently at first, then with a growing urgency that speaks of pent-up longing and passion.

Hooking my finger under her chin, my breath catches in my throat as her eyes meet mine. Those liquid brown eyes, the color of good, dark rum, and just as dangerous. As our lips reconnect, something sizzles through my body, and I can’t hold back any longer. I push her against the wall. Intoxicated by the taste of her, the way she moans in my mouth.

I reach for the hem of her dress and pull it off in one movement, my cock completely hard now at seeing her flushed and breathing hard in nothing more than her simple black cotton and lace bra and panties set.

I let my eyes trail down her legs, still covered by the stupid tights, and there’s a need in me, something animalistic that is telling me to rip them to shreds and access the taste of her faster.

I lick my lips in anticipation; I crave her taste again. I grab her by the waist, spin her around, and walk backward until we reach my bed, and I lean down until she’s lying there.

My heart swells a little despite the overwhelming need for the woman lying on my bed. Poppy is here, in my space, on my bed, wanting me almost as much as I want her.

I kiss down her neck, savoring the softness of her skin, tasting the soap and something distinctly her, a scent that has always driven me wild beyond the luxury oils and designer perfumes she once wore.

A breathless moan escapes her pouty mouth, her fingers slipping through my hair. Completely unaware, she is guiding my kisses where she needs me most, and I am all too happy to taste where she’s leading me.

I pull down her tights a little and lick her belly button, earning a little moan. God, she is so sensitive… The thought of how she might react when I’m deep inside her, to the point where we’re indistinguishable from one another, is intoxicating.

Precum begins to form, and I redirect my thoughts to her pleasure because I know that if I keep on thinking of how it will feel once I’m buried inside her, I will come in my pants.

I keep on pulling down her tights until I’m kneeling on the floor and throw them beside her dress. Our eyes meet as I shed my shirt, and it’s gratifying to see her gaze roam over my chest, her lips parting. My gaze stays on her as I bring her foot up to my lips and kiss the arch. I rest her foot on my shoulder and repeat the process with the other foot.

The air in the room sizzles with electricity. Her body jerks as I grab her thighs and spread her legs. I lick my lips as I see her dampened panties. My girl is ripe for me.

I slide down her underwear, and she reaches behind her back, wordlessly removing her bra and seeing her perfect breasts begging for my tongue almost derails me from my mission.

I refocus my attention on the pink, glistening flesh in front of me. A part of my goddess I never thought I would be lucky enough to kiss and taste. My tongue flicks over her skin like a predator tasting his prey.

I go up her toned legs slowly, alternating between kissing and licking.

She lets out a gentle whimper, raising her hips, and I look up at her.

Her eyes are half-closed, and she is biting her lip as her grip tightens on my gray comforter. I can hear her suck in air, trying to breathe.

“Breathe, beautiful.” I nibble at the sensitive skin of her knee. “I still have a long way to go.”

The quietest “Oh God” escapes her. So soft and breathy, I almost miss it.

She reaches down and grips my hair. “Ethan, Ethan, please,” she begs breathlessly.

Her flesh is swollen, wetter than before; the anticipation and memory of my tongue on her is probably as vivid for her as it is for me.

She quivers as my fingers brush her wetness, and a cry escapes when I press my thumb on her hard clit.

I adjust my position, placing my head between her legs, my nose nearly touching her wetness, her intoxicating scent almost sending me over the edge. I slide my tongue out and taste her for the first time tonight. Her body shivers. My body trembles as it registers the taste of her. The taste I will never get enough of.

I look up toward her face, and I see her eyes closed tightly. Her mouth is moving, but no words are coming out.

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