The second floor of the Montgomery home is L-shaped with the master bedroom at the small base of the letter and three more bedrooms down the long stretch of the hallway. Conner’s room first, then Mack’s old room, then jackpot.
Poppy glances back at me with a mischievous look in her eyes before opening the door, and I feel like a kid being let loose in a chocolate factory for the very first time—think opening day at Willy Wonka’s, and I’m suddenly feeling a lot like Augustus Gloop. Only it isn’t chocolate I want to sink my teeth into. It’s Poppy. She’s so cute and innocent tonight, and that silk—I want to pull her in and never let go.
The room is still as pink as I remember—the old twin bed with a frilly lace canopy has been replaced with a bigger sleigh bed, and a large screen television sits mounted on the wall in front of it.
Poppy puts the soup down and hops onto the bed. An entire row of stuffed animals bounces up and down as if extending their own greeting. I sit down beside her and snatch up a bright green dragon.
“Remember that?” She scoots in as we lean against the headboard together.
“Hell yes, I remember this. I gave it to you. I wanted it for myself, and my mother said I was too old, but you had a birthday coming up and she said I could get it for you.”
“Uh-huh, and every time you came over, you made a beeline toward Freddy.” She takes him back and gives him a rocking hug. “Face it, you used me to get to my stuffed animals.”
“That’s because you had such a vast collection.”
“Impressive, isn’t it?” She kicks off her shoes, and I do the same. “So, what are we watching?” She turns on the TV, and an old Western blinks to life.
“This looks good to me.” I shove a small pink rabbit behind my head and use it as a pillow as I get nice and comfy.
“Are you kidding? It’s all blood and gore. And they’re always fighting in the desert. Just watching it makes me hot and sweaty.”
A chuckle runs through me as I wrap my arm around her and Poppy lands against my chest, her arms curled over me. “So, you’re saying a bunch of sweaty men get you hot and bothered?”
“Eww. Trust me, that’s the last thing they get me. But speaking of which.” She leans over the side of the bed and nearly falls to the floor, so I grab ahold of her waist and hoist her back up. “Thanks.” Her ponytail smacks her in the face, and my stomach cinches because everything about Poppy Montgomery is so damn cute. “I came home to find my battery-operated boyfriend waiting for me.” She pulls a ten-inch hot pink rubber dick out of a box and waves it in front of my face.
“Crap. Get that thing away from me, Pops.”
She bounces it off my lips a few times, and I gently take her by the hand and steady it in front of me so I can take a look at the damn thing.
“It has sparkles. Is that something girls are looking for in a penis these days?”
“The correct term is glitter. And I do believe it’s an official vampire penis.” She brings the plastic penis to her chest as if she were holding a flower. “Good question, though. I’ve never thought about what I look for in a penis. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever really got a good look at any of the penises I’ve encountered. It’s always dark and seedy, and over before I can get a good look at the perpetrator who impaled the lower forty-eight.”
“Very funny. And please”—I grind my palm into my eye—“let’s not discuss the perpetrators who have impaled your lower forty-eight. That’s disgusting. And about how many were there, anyway?” Yes, I want to know. And then I want to track them down and bludgeon them all to death with this sparkling piece of manhood.
Poppy belts out a laugh. “Take a wild guess. I’ll give you a hint. It’s more than one and less than a hundred. But after I confide this delicate information to you, I expect the same courtesy. I’d accuse you of losing count, but I happen to know you’re too anal and egotistical for that.”
“Touché.” I’ve got that number. But ever since Poppy rode back into town, I don’t feel like adding to it, except maybe by one. “Okay—twenty-seven.”
“What?” She picks up a giant white bear and knocks me over the head with it. “Is that the kind of a hussy you think I am? That’s not even a nice round number!”
“Okay, okay. Fifteen. Round enough for you?”
“Better. But still in Skanksville. Wow, it’s nice to know you think so highly of me.”
“I do think highly of you. That’s why I wish that number was less than zero.”
She sinks back down next to me, batting her forest of lashes my way. “You wish I was running in the negatives? Aw, that’s sweet.” She bites down on that devious smile and giggles to herself. “Don’t tell me you wish you could have added my hymen to your beaver pelt collection. I’m betting virgin trapping is one of your favorite sports.”
I close my eyes and bang my head lightly over the back of her headboard. “I don’t know where you get this stuff, Eight Ball.”
“It’s called reality, Gordo.” That smug grin slides off her face. “I wish you weren’t such a whore.” Her voice grows small as her nails scratch lightly over my chest. “You’re a good guy. You deserve a good girl and to be happy sans running the risk of creating an entirely new strain of venereal disease.” She looks up with those sad puppy dog eyes, and my heart wrenches. “You’ve slept with everyone, Jax.” The agony in her voice, that pained expression—I’ve never felt so ashamed of what I’ve done. “You slept with Larissa.” She picks up Freddy the dragon and smashes him into my chest.
“I’m sorry.” It comes out lower than a whisper, but I mean it.
“Did you ever—you know—fall in love with anyone?”
“Not any of those girls.” My heart thumps violently again and again as if I’m on the cusp of that very endeavor.
She nods up at me, her arm draping over my body like a shield, and it feels good like this with Poppy. “So you’re a serial fucker.” Her voice is low and threatens to break.
A dark laugh strums from me. “You know I can’t stand it when you’re vulgar.”
“You can’t stand how cute it is.” Her cool hand slips up my shirt, and I suck in a quick breath at how good it feels.
“You got me. I think you’re cute, Pops.”
She bites down on her cherry red lip once again, and I’m dying to do just that myself.
“You know—you may have screwed a lot of people, but you’ve never made love to any. In that respect, I guess we’re both virgins.”
I have no clue where this is going, but my dick just roused to see what the hell was going on.
“Do you love me, Jaxson?” Her dark ruby lips part in anticipation. Her eyes expand wide as lily pads, and my heart, my soul detonate all at once. “Not in the romantic sense, but you know, as a good friend. We’ve known each other since we were kids. We’re practically family in a non-incestual kind of way.”
“Kissing cousins?”
“Don’t get backwoods on me. You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I love you.” I trace out her features with the tip of my finger and soak in every dip and curve. “I’ve loved you since that first day I visited you in the hospital when you were born.”
Poppy trembles out a laugh. “You have no recollection of that, and you know it.”
“It’s true. I can feel it in my gut. I loved you then, and I’ll always love you.”
A thick silence fills the room as Poppy and I lock eyes. There’s something happening, a shift, a movement, the unleashing of a damn. Sometimes you just realize that the landscape of your life is changing, rearranging for the better, and for me—and hopefully for Poppy, this is that moment.
Wordlessly, I lift her chin and lower my lips to meet hers. We share a sensual kiss, slow and meaningful, as if we were writing a love letter to one another’s souls.
My hands find their way to her waist as I glide down the cool silk fabric splitting the difference between us. Poppy has the tiniest waist, the roundest ass—and I mean that in the best possi
ble way—that I have ever seen in a pair of jeans or otherwise. But tonight, I wouldn’t mind a glimpse of the real deal, raw and in the buff. My fingers work the waistband of her pants before dipping down over her well-toned stomach. Poppy does her best to return the favor by pulling off my flannel, yanking off my T-shirt. She pulls back a moment and rakes her eyes along my chest, her fingers bumping over the ridges of my muscles.
“Wow, Stade, you are magnificent.” Her words come out breathy.
Just hearing her so hot and bothered gets me worked up. Here we are again, another hard situation presenting itself between friends. I openly frown at the thought. This is something more than that. I think we both realize it. We just don’t have it in us to admit it.
Carefully, I reach over and unbutton her blouse, pulling the smooth fabric off her shoulders as her beautiful, beautiful tits stare back at me. I have always wondered what they might look like. God knows I’ve seen them in every shape and size—but these belong to Poppy. Here they are, perfectly round, just heavy enough to give a natural shape, and those light pink nipples look like twin cherries sitting on a bed of whipped cream. I rub my thumb over one, and she shivers at my touch.
Poppy pulls me to my knees as we evict every last stich of clothing between us. She tugs that dragon over and sets it on her lap, blocking my view of the sweetest, hopefully wettest spot on Earth as she crosses her legs and I do the same. Here we are, seated across from one another cross-legged. I always knew if I ever slept with Poppy it would be different, and yet I had no idea.
“Take a good look, sweetheart.” A crooked grin rises up my cheek. “Do you see any sparkles?”
Poppy belts out a laugh, so hard and so long, a scowl quickly replaces that grin I’m sporting.
“Watch it. I’m starting to get offended.” I’m only partially teasing.
Her chest bucks, and those perfect tits bounce between us. “Jax.” She shakes her head, and her hands land over the base of my most prominent member. “I think what you have to offer trumps the sparkles on my battery-operated boyfriend any day of the week.” Her eyes linger over mine a moment. Here we are, her hands gripping my dick, my hard-on threatening to petrify rock solid, and my heart exploding in my chest like a Fourth of July spectacular. There are moments in your life that you ingrain into your memory, and this, albeit a slightly pornographic memory, will always be the one that reminds me of the fact I’m in love with this girl.
My eyes widen into hers, and my jaw goes slack. I’m in love with Poppy Montgomery. I’ve always loved her beyond the bounds of friendship and family.
Oh, shit. This is real. I love her. And I need to tell her.
A devious smile glides on her face. “Let me bestow a kiss to the king on his most treasured crown.” Poppy leans in, and a groan works its way up my throat in anticipation. I’m about to make love to Poppy Montgomery with the lights on, and I’m going to watch and memorize every damn minute.
The door to her room swings open, letting in an unwelcomed breeze, and Poppy and I freeze.
“Feeling better, honey?” Charlene takes one look at us, and her eyes expand the size of the sun. She slaps a hand over her chest and lets out a blood-curdling scream before spinning like a cyclone, shutting herself into the room, then screaming once again until she lands safely on the other side of the door.
Fuck.
I will never be able to look Charlene Montgomery in the eye again.
Hot and Heavy Horseplay
Poppy
“AAARGGHHHH!”
I launch to the door and slam my shoulder against it, locking the damn thing while expelling a silent sob. I can’t believe my mother just saw me bending over Jaxson Stade’s lap rocket while I positioned myself to blow it out like a birthday candle.
“It’s okay, honey!” she bleats from the other side of the door. “I won’t tell your father! He’s fast asleep. He doesn’t need to know a thing! You just keep up with whatever it is you kids were doing! Have a good time! I’ll make sure to have a pancake breakfast for the two of you come morning! I know blueberries are your favorite, Jaxson!”
A masculine murmuring comes from the hall, and I practically hear her covering for me. Something about me having a violent and very catching form of stomach flu. Good God. I cringe into the door as I resist the very real urge to hurl.
Jaxson comes up and switches the lights off. His arms circle my waist as he lands a gentle kiss to the nape of my neck, and a shiver runs through me.
“It looks like our secret is out, Eight Ball,” he whispers it heavy into my ear, and I tip my head back and moan. Jaxson Stade has called me that nickname more times than I care to remember, and yet this time it made my insides quiver right down to that wet slick that is begging to pay him homage.
I spin into his embrace and find his lips with my own before pulling back. “My mother knows what we’re doing.” It comes out more of an agonizing cry than a whisper.
“Think of it this way. We’ve just made things very believable.”
“Too believable. And don’t think she won’t snap a few pictures of us in the morning and add it to that psychotic scrapbook she and your mother have been contributing to all our lives.”
“You mean the photo album they let us know fifteen years ago that would one day be on display at our wedding?”
“That’s the one. You’re not really staying the night, are you?” I’m hopeful, but let’s face it. My mother can pretty much kill just about any hard-on. I wouldn’t be surprised if she nixed the flesh-fest that was about to ensue.
“Are you kidding? And miss out on the pancake breakfast? She’s throwing in blueberries for God’s sake.” He buries a tender kiss in the hollow of my neck, and a sigh escapes me. A sliver of moonlight allows me to see his drugged eyes rise to meet with mine. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”
I swallow hard as my heart races into my skull. “Whatever shall we do?” I tease, but it just comes out desperate and pleading.
Jaxson’s hands strum down my sides, slipping against my thigh, and his fingers glide over the most intimate part of me. The sweet electrifying sensation sends me jumping for the ceiling.
“Oh God!” I cry in an effort to embarrass the hell out of myself. “I mean, wow, that was—” Shut up, Poppy. Yank your vocal cords out of your throat if you have to. This is Jaxson Stade you’re about to sleep with for fuck’s sake! I press out a weak smile. “I guess you caught me off guard,” I pant out the lie.
“Did that feel good?” A dreamy smile accompanies that stoned look on his face as he leans in and steals a kiss off my lips. “Did you know your mouth tastes delicious?” He pulls back, his heavy breathing cools my heated flesh. “I bet every last part of you tastes good, too.” His fingers glide over the quivering, tender part of me once again, and I let out another heated cry. Thankfully, the Western blaring on my television is currently experiencing a rather apocalyptic shoot-out. I need their rugged shouts and grunts to cover my own apocalyptic-worthy moaning.
His fingers move over me, and I suck in a quick breath.
“You’re so wet,” he whispers as he lands a kiss directly in my ear, and I shudder.
I’m going to come. I’m just about there. I’m pretty sure we’re somewhere on that nebulous third base—we’re nowhere near home plate, and I’m about to skip straight to the fireworks show after the game.
The moonlight bathes us in its steely beams. Jaxson doesn’t take that lusty gaze off of me as his finger slowly plunges into my body and I take in a never-ending breath.
“Are you returning the favor?” I try to pass it off as sarcasm or something light, but my erratic breathing tears up every word and makes my vocal cords work to get them out.
“Oh, honey”—a dark laugh rumbles from him, and he pulls back to take me in—“I’m about to do myself a favor and give you something I’ve waited a lifetime for.”
Jax scoops me up and lands me softly on the mattress. His kisses stream down my body, stopping by the girls
to appreciate the hell out of them in a frenzied fervor.
“To be continued.” He gives my left nipple a generous bite, and I can’t help but take in a quivering breath.
Yes, I’ve been with two other guys, but both of those experiences were lost in a drunken haze of regret. And each time, I tried to pretend they were Jaxson. And now here he is, having a bona fide conversation with my boobs, moving his dark head over my abdomen and leaving me breathless with each swerve of his hot, lashing tongue.
Jax gets on his elbows and pulls my hips under his chin. He glances up at me with those heavy lids and sheds a demented grin.
My chest heaves, one hard blow after another, and soon enough, I’ll pass out and miss what is turning out to be the most spectacular moment of my life. Jaxson Stade is dripping with lewd intent. Those fangs he calls teeth gleam in the silver light with that big bad wolf grin of his blooming from ear-to-ear.
“My, what big teeth you have,” I whisper like an idiot as his kisses drip to my inner thighs.
“The better to”—he plunges a kiss into that heated slick that’s been waiting for him for years, and I let out a sharp gasp—“love you with.” And just like that, Jax’s tongue runs over those slicked folds, licking, sucking, and loving, the hell out of me.
I can’t breathe. Can’t move. But mostly I can’t stop watching as Jaxson’s dark head moves in a circular motion that makes my heart, every cell in my body, and my world feel as if it’s about to blow to pieces. My fingers run through his thick hair, and I grip him there, owning this moment because for so long I’ve wanted it. The room spins, my body tightens like a coil, and just as I’m about to cry out, a breath gets locked in my throat, and I detonate right there in his mouth, proving the point that Jaxson Stade is far better at helping out a friend than I ever was.