Page 19 of Don’t Go Breaking My Heart (Houston Baddies #3)

Poppy nibbles her bottom lip, her chest heaving with every ragged breath, and her hand moves to my thigh, sliding up slowly, fingers grazing the tent in my boxers.

“I mean it,” she says. “I want to see you lose control.”

My cock throbs.

“I’ll suck on it, too…”

Suck on it too, suck on it too.

My dick strains, causing most of the blood to leave my brain.

Pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out everything but the sound of her voice and the rapid, uneven beat of my own heart.

She drags a finger up my thigh, nail grazing the sensitive skin there, and my cock twitches beneath the thin fabric of my boxers, desperate for relief.

For her.

“You want that?” she asks, fingers reaching for the hem of her sheer shirt. “Want me to touch you?”

I swear to fucking god, my legs tremor, body coiled so tight it’s a miracle I haven’t come already as she lifts her tank top slowly, inch by inch, the fabric catching on her tits, exposing more of her.

My mouth goes dry as she drags it over her head, tossing it aside without breaking eye contact.

She’s naked, now.

Her tits are amazing.

Round.

High.

Perfect.

I want to suck them and fuck them and spend all my time staring at them…

“Want me to touch you?” she whispers in a sultry purr, the sound alone makes my hips jerk, a strangled sound tearing from my throat.

“Yes.” I nod enthusiastically. “Fuck, yes.”

Poppy leans closer, her breath warm against my jaw, and her fingers slide up, up, until they’re hooking beneath the waistband of my boxers.

My heart slams against my ribs, my cock throbbing so hard it’s painful, and she’s right there, so close, lips brushing my ear as she whispers, “Then show me.”

Show me.

I can’t move.

Can’t think . The only thing keeping me grounded is the feel of her hands on me, sliding beneath the fabric, pulling it down, down, until my boxers are around my knees and I’m bare to her.

Poppy’s eyes drop, taking in the sight of my dick, and her tongue slips out to wet her lips, her breathing going shallow.

My entire body tenses, every nerve ending firing at once as she reaches for me… fingers wrap around my length… soft and warm and perfect…

Oh fuck, oh fuck…

I watch as she lowers her head. Runs her tongue over the base of my cock, eyes on mine.

“Let me watch,” she whispers again. “I want to see you stroke it the way you were jerking off the other night.” She pauses. “Please.”

My nod is jerky.

My breathing goes shallow, each inhale and exhale heavy and uneven as I grip myself, wrapping my hand around the base, the heat of my palm a poor substitute for hers.

But she makes up for it by touching herself as I stroke myself, pumping slowly, dragging my hand up and down, each stroke a tease, a torment, every nerve in my body lighting up like a live wire.

Poppy leans back, hand sliding down her stomach. Fingers playing with herself as she watches me.

I can’t look away.

Can’t think. My hand tightens around my cock, pumping faster, harder, the slick, hot slide of it sending sparks shooting down my spine.

Every nerve ending is on fire, and all I can focus on is her—how close she is, how her breath fans over my jaw, how her eyes stay locked on mine, dark and heavy and full of things I can’t even name.

“Just like that...”

My hips jerk, a strangled moan escaping me as I tighten my grip, pumping faster, harder, the tension building, coiling, a heat spreading from my spine to the base of my skull.

I’m close. Too close. So close I can taste it, feel it right there, seconds away from unraveling completely, from losing it right in front of her.

“Should I suck your dick, hmm?” she asks. “Would you like that?”

I…

I…

I would.

I really fucking would…

“You want that, Turner?” she whispers, her voice a low, sultry rasp. “Want your cum in my mouth?”

“Yes,” I grind out, the word breaking, raw and desperate.

I can do is watch as she lowers her head, her hair falling over her shoulders like a curtain, the strands brushing against my skin.

Her lips hover over me, close enough that I can feel her breath, warm and sweet, and I choke on a groan, my hips jerking up, desperate for her. Desperate to be inside her throat.

But she doesn’t move. Doesn’t touch me. Stays there, eyes locked on mine, a wicked little smile curving her lips.

My cock throbs, head bulging.

Tight.

Hot.

Straining.

Poppy settles her hands on my thighs, and I watch as she kneels forward, humming low and throaty, her mouth dragging lower, her tongue darting out to taste my skin, to tease me, to drive me insane.

“Look at me,” she demands. “I want you to watch.”

I force my eyes open, my gaze dropping to her, and the sight of her—so close, so calm, so in control—sends a fresh wave of heat rushing through me.

And then.

She has me in her throat; down it.

Deep.

Sucking.

I feel her tongue against my shaft and moan loudly, head hitting the headboard behind me.

A hot, naked woman is sucking my dick.

My hands fist in the sheets, knuckles white, every nerve ending in my body lights up, one after another, a chain reaction of heat and tension and misery as she blows me.

I watch as her head bops up and down, mouth sucking in such a way that I’m not going to last another minute. The visual, the sensory, the…the…the…

Oh shit.

Oh fuck…

Her hands go to my balls, kneading. Squeezing and I almost lose my fucking load.

Eyes closed, lashes fluttering, her lips wrap around me, hand moving up and down in slow, torturous strokes as she grips me.

I can’t fucking take it.

My hips buck up, a rough, ragged sound tearing from me, and she tightens her grip on my thighs, holding me down, keeping me in place while her mouth works me, tongue swirling, lips sliding, pressure building.

I’m coming apart. Completely.

“Poppy…” I choke out, my voice wrecked, my chest heaving, my vision blurring at the edges. “Fuck, I’m ? —”

She hums around my shaft, a soft, low vibration that sends a shockwave straight through my spine, and my entire body jerks, my hips lifting off the bed, my hands fisting the sheets as the pressure inside me reaches a breaking point.

And when I come, it’s deep in her throat.

Every ounce of energy has been sapped from my limbs, room is spinning, my pulse still thundering in my ears, and all I can do is stare at the ceiling, blinking against the rush of heat still coursing through me.

She wipes the back of her hand across her mouth, her eyes dark and unreadable as she meets my gaze. There’s a beat of silence, the air thick and charged, and my heart slams against my ribs, a hot rush of panic flooding my veins.

My eyes open and I blink back the dark, my pulse still thrumming, chest heaving like I’ve just sprinted a mile. The room is silent, save for the quiet hum of the fan. I’m twisted in my sheets, damp with sweat.

I drag a hand down my face, the image of her mouth, the feel of her tongue, still burning behind my eyelids. My jaw clenches.

It was a dream. Just a fucking dream.

Shit.

Damn if it didn’t feel real….