“Poppy?” My breathing quickened again. There wasn’t an inch of space between our hips as his lazily churned against mine. “What?” “I’m waiting.” “Hard,” I snapped. “I was going to ask how you’re hard again—” “Poppy,” He feigned a gasp. “That’s an inappropriate question to ask.” “Are you fucking—?” He kissed me, capturing my lower lip as he ground his hips against mine. “I’m trying to.”
