‘Fuck... Poppy.’
Her gaze came to mine once more and then her hands were splayed on my chest, and she was riding me with all the beauty and grace of an Olympic equestrian.
Harder. Deeper. And then, finally—fucking finally—faster.
Our gazes met, held, the connection between us winding tight around my soul.
I couldn’t fight this. I didn’t want to.
She and I...perhaps that was all the anger and enmity had been—us fighting what couldn’t be resisted. This intense, incredible connection that went deeper than sex. That felt like a joining on a whole other level.
I didn’t know what it was; I’d never felt anything like it before. But what I did know was that I’d made her mine and right here, right now, she was making me hers.
And I was done fighting it.
I reached up, hooked one hand around the back of her neck, bringing her mouth down on mine.
And let the orgasm drag me under.
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