Page 66 of Pucking Sweet

I glare at him over my shoulder, and he laughs, smacking my butt. I gasp, hands flexing against the machine. Then Lukas is behind me, bending at the knees and sinking himself back inside me. I swallow a moan as he pulls back on my hips while he pushes forward, burying himself to the hilt. “There it is,” he groans. “So fucking good. So deep and tight. You ready?”

I nod, still unable to speak.

Behind me, Lukas unleashes himself. With one hand on my hip and the other buried in my hair, he slams his hips into me. My lips part on a silent scream and I arch my back. My body lights up like a Christmas tree as he owns me from the inside out.

I only realize my cries aren’t so silent when Lukas folds himself over my back, wrapping a hand around my mouth. “Shh. You gotta be quiet, baby. These sounds are only for me. How else will we both lie about this later and say it never happened?”

I moan into his hand, feeling whoever I was before I stumbled into this ice room burn down to ash and embers. That Poppy is gone.Lukas is right. I’m going to be leaving this room as someone different, someone stronger.

I rock into his thrusts, and that drives him wild. He ruts harder, snaking a hand between my legs to massage my clit. “Come again,” he commands. “One more. Give me everything this time. We don’t stop until you fucking shatter.”

He wants everything? He can have it. Lukas Novikov can take literally any piece of me. Closing my eyes tight, I focus on that ball of fire burning in my core, willing it to burn brighter. My body shakes, and his hand holds back my scream as we both climax. He folds over my back, digging his teeth in at my shoulder as he swallows his own shout of ecstasy. That little bite of pain is the only thing keeping me tethered to reality, centering me as I slowly float back down to earth.

“You’re not alone, Pop,” he says in my ear. Then he kisses the mark he left on my shoulder.

It should be a sweet moment. Itissweet. Lukas is here with me. His warmth surrounds me. His cool, comforting scent mixes with mine, with our sweat, our primal essence. There’s something sacred about it. I feel so full of him, so blissfully at peace.

But then he’s pulling out of me.

Then he’s stepping away, searching for his discarded clothes.

And now I’m left with my hands pressed against the side of this ice machine, my body trembling, feeling somehow emptier and lonelier than I ever was before.

22

Iwake up in a dark hotel room and I know without checking that it’s ten minutes to six. I know because that’s my fun little party trick. My body always jolts awake about ten minutes before my alarm is set to go off. I’ve been this way since I was a kid. It doesn’t matter that I experience constant time changes, or how much I’ve had to drink the night before. My body justknows.

And there’s never any going back to sleep once I’m awake.

I lie on this queen-sized bed, one arm tucked behind my head, staring up at the ceiling. Under the window, the AC unit hums, working overtime to blast cold air. I run hot, so I like the room frigid when I sleep. We’re talking industrial meat locker.

Even now, I’m only under the sheet, and only to my waist, but I still feel overheated. I don’t kick it off. I don’t even dare turn my head. I don’t want to move because I know what I’ll see when I do.

Poppy St. James is asleep in my bed.

A thoroughly fucked Poppy St. James, wearing only my goddamn shirt.

After the ice machine, the combination of alcohol burn-off and multiple orgasms led to an unexpected sub drop that had Poppy feeling pretty loopy. I saw the signs immediately, the disorientation, the fatigue, the shaking. She needed some serious aftercare. I brought her up to my room, cleaned her up, and put her to bed—which led to us cuddling like a pair of teenagers—which led to me getting hard because, hello, Poppy St. James was naked in my bed.

When she felt it, she stretched behind herself, reaching for her little purse on the bedside table. She took out the second condom, sheathed me with her own goddamn hand, then tossed her leg over my hip and slid me in. We slow-fucked until we came together, megroaning her name into a fistful of her hair. She fell asleep curled against my chest with my dick still inside her.

It was…

I sigh, dragging a tired hand over my face.

She’s lying next to me now, body bent like the letter “V,” with her tight little ass pressed against my hip. I don’t want to wake her, but I have to. She has to get out of here, and quick. All the guys will be waking up for our 7 a.m. flight back to Jacksonville. Once they start wandering the halls, there’ll be no sneaking her out. She only had two rules: one night only, and no one else can know. That’s the only reason I got to fuck her last night, because she trusts that I can hold to those two simple requests. Who would I be if I let her down now?

Bracing myself, I roll to my side, taking in the view of her asleep in my bed. The only light comes from behind the half-closed bathroom door, but it’s enough. The white comforter is double-folded and piled on top of her, covering her to the shoulder. She’s got one arm tucked under the pillow. The other is by her face. Her long blonde hair is a tangled mess, fanning out across the pillow.

I pick up a silky handful, rubbing the strands between finger and thumb. She has really pretty hair. It’s so smooth and shiny. It smells good too, like rosemary and mint. Soft and refreshing, just like her. I dip my head, pressing the handful to my face. I breathe deep.Fuck—please god, just let me have this scent. I’ll lock it away in the back of my mind with the rest of my memories of this night.

She stirs in her sleep, scooting closer, chasing my warmth like a greedy lap cat. Then she lets out a soft hum of contentment and I’m ready to crawl between her goddamn legs. I have to taste her again. Just one more time—

No, I can’t do this. I can’t bear it. She needs to go.Now.

I drop her hair and sit up, propping myself up with the pillows just as my phone alarm starts to beep. Next to me, Poppy wakes. Reaching over, I turn off the alarm and unplug my phone. I stretch back and pretend I’m reading something, but all my senses are locked on her.

Poppy stretches under her mountain of comforter. Then she slowly sits up like a mummy rising from a coffin. Her messy golden curls tumble down her back as she rubs her face and looks around.

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