Page 32 of No First Kisses

Then I’m in her, sliding through her warmth in one stroke, all the way to the hilt.

“Shit.” She hisses. “Don’t stop.”

My hand leaves hers, but she doesn’t move her hands down from above her head. Instead, she grips the blankets in her hands, and her back arches as I start to thrust.

One.

Two.

Three.

By the fourth stroke, she starts to clench around me with the beginning of her release.

By the end of the fifth stroke, she’s screaming as the orgasm tears through her body.

But I don’t stop.

Instead, I grab her calves and lift her legs so that they rest on my chest, and I give her everything I possibly can so that by the time she comes back down to herself, her body has already started to shift around mine, demanding more.

“Again.” The order leaves my lips with a ferocious growl, and her eyes fly open to meet mine.

Her eyes are locked on me, pleasure bouncing between the two of us so fast that I don’t know where I end and she begins.

“Come with me.”

I can’t speak to tell her I don’t have a choice. I move my palm down her leg, bringing it to where our bodies are connected, and run my finger through the wetness. Pressing it against her clit, I groan as she clenches around me and I see stars.

I can’t stop it. My balls tighten, and fire shoots from the base of my spine through the tips of my fingers while I empty into her tight sheath.

“Mine,” she whispers, and I open my eyes to see the same passion I feel reflected back in hers.

“Yeah.” I nod. “All yours.”

“Good.” She slaps my side, and I slip from her body. “Now, will you make me a taco pizza?”

“What the hell is a taco pizza?” I kiss the side of her neck and then get up, offering her my hand so that we can both get cleaned up.

“It’s a pizza, with taco toppings.” Poppy walks by me into the bathroom, not caring that she is leaking our fluids down her legs as she goes.

I have to look away or I’ll bend her over the counter and take her again. I’ve literally never seen anything as arousing as her, pregnant and wet because of me.

“Screw it.”

I follow her into the bathroom.

Food can wait.

This? Perfection? It can’t wait another minute.

11

POPPY

“I’m such a freakin’ loser.” Stuffing my face with another taco, I groan. “I don’t even like tacos.”

Since I found out about the baby, my entire diet has gone downhill. So has exercising. Up until the point that I find myself thirty-two weeks along and have a regular date with Lucy’s Bar & Grill after I’m released from bed rest, where I can eat my tacos in secret in a place Logan won’t find me.

“Apparently, your kid has better taste than you do.” A small and tattooed brunette slides into the booth across from me. “Tacos are life and so much better than anything else.”

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