Page 53 of Five Summers

“Say what?” she asks.

“I honestly don’t know why…” I shrug.

“Why what?” Her eyes watch me.

“You always believe in me. No one else does. Sometimes I wonder if I'm just kidding myself. If it's all just in my head, a desperate dream to escape my boring reality and prove myself. Like I actually mean something.”

“But you are something. When you sing, it’s as if you pour your entire essence into those lyrics. It’s like a magnetic pull, drawing all of us towards something extraordinary. Believe me, you possess an incredible talent, Xander.”

Her words have a profound effect on me, hitting me straight in the heart. I have spent my entire life being called a lowlife, someone without worth. The derogatory comments I’ve faced didn’t just come from the man I thought was my dad, but also from teachers and parents of other kids. Yet, when I look into her eyes, it’s not the same. She has a one-of-a-kind perception of me - she sees something in me that is entirely new. She doesn’t see the state of my broken home or the challenges I face. What she sees is the real me, the person I aspire to be.

My lips meet hers, prompting a soft gasp to escape her. I gently slide my tongue into her mouth, enjoying the taste. Surrendering to the kiss, I hold her face in my hands. Her mouth, like mine, is warm and needy, igniting a tingling sensation that courses through my entire being. The scent ofher perfume permeates the air, adding a delightful sweetness. Our breaths blend together in perfect harmony. Hearing her soft moan snaps me back to reality.

In an instant, I feel a powerful wave of realization crash down on me. The weight of my mistake settles like a heavy burden. Fuck, I kissed her again. My heart sinks as I realize I’ve broken my number one rule once again.

I swiftly move back, noticing that her breath is as labored as mine. Her intense blue eyes meet mine, locking in a heated gaze. It’s impossible for me to control my body’s reaction to her, no matter how hard I try. My desire for her surpasses any longing I’ve ever experienced. My heart races within me, overwhelmed by the intense arousal I feel for this person. Music is my passion. That’s what I strive to do. However, the attraction I feel for her is different. She possesses a unique quality that sets her apart.

I don’t know why, but I suddenly feel an overwhelming need to express how stunning she is. The way she holds her head high, even in the face of torment and criticism, fills me with such admiration. I have this intense desire to pour out all my emotions to her, but I’m having difficulty finding the right words. This is a completely new experience for me because I’ve never been this open or felt this way about someone before. I feel unsure and hesitant about the vulnerability that comes with allowing someone to get closer to me than anyone else ever has before.

However, there’s something about Poppy that compels me to establish a much deeper connection with her. It’s like she has become intertwined with my thoughts, merging with the core of my being.

I’m still so close to her that I can almost taste the warmth of her breath lingering on my lips. Her chest’s gentle rise and fall is captivating to behold. Still, there is a sense of stillness as she gazes at me, studying me as if trying to read my expression.

Silently, she raises her hand and threads her fingers in my hair. She firmly clutches the back of my head, pulling me closer to her.

Our lips collide in a hungry kiss. It’s wild, desperate and holy mother of God, so fucking incredibly hot. I love it. I choose to ignore all the rules I should abide by. My brain screams no, but my cock refuses to listen. He’s tired of seeing the inside of my fist. He yearns to sink into her. To succumb to the irresistible sensation of her tight pussy.

Then I realize that she’s a virgin. I don’t do virgins. A better man would distance himself. Poppy Reeves deserves someone better than me, a complete jerk who fucks anything he can. Although I am aware that one day she will resent me for taking her virginity, all I want to do isclaim her as mine.

I trail my tongue along her jawline, down her neck, and across her collarbone. ”You have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now.” I confess, grabbing her breast.

She responds eagerly, emitting a seductive sound when I give it a gentle squeeze.

Wow, if just pinching her nipple gets that reaction, I can only imagine the pleasure I would experience exploring every inch of her body. The very idea of it makes my cock harder, almost to the point of discomfort. If she were some other chick, I would have shoved my dick in her hand, her mouth, or any other hole I could stick it in to get what I desired.

However, Poppy is not like any other chick. There’s no one else like her, she’s in a class of her own.

“I’ve fucking fantasized about touching you so many times. All I can think about is slipping my hands under your short skirt to see how wet I can make you,” I confess, my voice barely above a whisper as if carried away by a gentle breeze.

“Then do it.”

With a cocky grin, I plant another kiss on her collarbone, then get up.

Her eyes remain fixed on me as I grabher legs, coaxing her towards me and helping her lie down on the hood of the car. My hands glide along the smooth contours of her inner thighs, feeling the warmth radiating through my fingertips with every move. The mix of anticipation and fear causes her to tremble in response, unlike anything I’ve seen before. I know I'm her first and I want to make sure she enjoys it.

Slowly, my fingertips glide beneath the fabric of her skirt, igniting a surge of anticipation. The moment my fingers brush against her wet spot, she lets out a hiss.

A confident smirk tugs at the corners of my mouth. “You’re so fucking wet already,” I remark.

She bites down on her bottom lip and challenges me. “So, how do you intend to handle that?”

Her feistiness is such a turn-on. I lift her skirt and can’t help but groan at the sight of her black lace panties, completely transparent and leaving nothing to the imagination. Who would have thought that Poppy Reeves, the virgin, would wear something like this? My fingertips trace the intricate patterns of the delicate lace as I gaze at her smooth, shaved pussy. Slipping my fingers under the waistband, I slowly slide them down over her thighs, past her knees, and eventually reach her ankles.

And just like the pervert I am, I quickly stash them in my pocket, intending to keep them as a memento to get myself off later.

A deep groan escapes me as she willingly opens her legs for me. The sight of her glistening pussy is irresistible, begging me to indulge in some playful exploration.

“Tell me, Princess, let me know if you want me to stop,” I say, praying like fuck she doesn't say no.

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