Page 107 of Poppy Kisses
“Yeah?” he asked gruffly. The bulge behind his slacks waited for me like my own special wedding gift.
“You’re overdressed for our first marital night together.”
He ripped the fly of his pants open and shoved them down, taking his underwear with them. His cock bobbed out. I flipped his shirt down his back and arms. He stepped out of his clothing and shook it away. Then we faced each other, neither of us wearing a stitch. We had privacy, but we weren’t hiding.
I slipped one pin out of my hair and another, continuing until my curls fell around my shoulders.
“It’s like Christmas, my birthday, and Valentine’s all in one,” he said gruffly.
The way he made me feel precious wrapped around me like I was a porcelain figure, waiting for the right admirer to keep her forever. It was our wedding night, and he was handing me all my dreams. A simple ceremony with my family. The sense that I was the most valuable treasure he could hold. And a future where I didn’t have to weather problems alone.
He lifted me again and placed me in the middle of the bedding, coming down on top of me. His kisses were melting and consuming. I wrapped my arms and legs around him. If we fused into one right now, I’d be perfectly content.
He rocked against me, his erection slicking through my heat. I shamelessly ground against him. He adjusted himself but didn’t plunge inside me. We moved as one, rolling against each other, demanding more but not taking it, as if we were showing each other that there was no rush. The night was ours. Forever was ours.
I framed his face with my hands and tangled my tongue with his.
He broke away from my mouth to kiss a path down my neck. “You know what you get to be?”
I arched into him, pleasure tingling through my body all the way to my toes. “What?”
“Loud. I’m gonna make you scream, Poppy.” He nipped the sensitive skin at the base of my neck.
The throbbing between my legs grew stronger, more demanding. “You able to back up those claims, Hollis?”
He growled and shifted his pelvis. He held still for a moment, long enough to make me squirm, and then he thrust inside.
I cried out. Finally. I was filled with him and I paused just to enjoy the moment, to feel the connection.
“I love you.” He kissed my lips. “Wife.”
“I love you too, husband.” I let out a breathy giggle. “So formal.”
“You’re mine, four-ten.” He drew back and thrust again.
I hitched my knees higher and widened them. He plunged in and out, and the force made my clit brush against him, and when he hit just the right angle, I pushed harder into him. I was going to come stronger than ever.
“You feel like home.” He hooked his arms under my knees. I was open as wide as could be, and we slammed together, each bump and scrape an electrical shock straight to my clit.
“Jensen!”
“Fuck, Poppy, you feel so good.”
“Yes!” I chanted that word over and over.
“Fuck.” One more time, he rammed into me, and we catapulted together through our climaxes.
My heart raced, but he held me. I was secure with him, so loved and cared for that I couldn’t possibly be dreaming. Nothing in my imagination had summoned anything this good.
He released my legs, and I wrapped my arms all the way around him. We lay like that together, our heartbeats in sync.
I ruffled his hair. “Okay, you lived up to that promise. I got loud.”
“You’re going to be louder,” he said into my hair.
“Really? Because I think I can make you shout louder than me.”
“Oh, my lovely wife—that’s a challenge I’m happy to accept.”
