“Down here.” Poppy’s thighs spread apart on my desk, and I inhale sharply through my nose. “There’s an ache down here, doctor.”
Doctor.
This is wrong. So wrong. It’s surely a betrayal of my oath, and shame pours through me, fast and thick, even as triumph cuts through it like sunshine parting storm clouds. It’s my touch she wants. My healing hands on that ache.
“Are you sure you want to keep going?”
I’m ragged. Ruined already.
“Yes,” Poppy begs. “Please, Whit.”
We both hold our breath as I flick her shorts button open. Her zipper catches, and Poppy huffs out a laugh as she wriggles, working her shorts and panties over her hips.
They drop to my office floor with athwump.Sandals follow, kicked off in turn.
Then she’s bared to me. Legs spread, pussy glistening.
I’ve sunk halfway to my knees before I realize: I’ve never kissed her mouth. I’m about to push my tongue inside her, and I’ve never kissed her lips. Fucking hell.
Poppy squeaks as I launch to my feet, cupping the back of her head, and my mouth is too firm on hers, too demanding, taking out all the frustration I feel only for myself. But my girl tugs on my white coat and gives as good as she gets, slanting our mouths together and kissing, nipping,claiming.
Her tongue strokes along mine.
A shiver ripples down my spine.
Mine.
“Perfect,” I rasp, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her throat. I suck a bruise near her shoulder, but hey, it’s fine—I’m a doctor. “Fuck. You’re everything, Poppy. Everything I thought you would be.”
She hiccups a laugh and shoves down on my shoulders. Yes, ma’am.
My knees thump against the rug, the dull pain barely a flicker in my brain. I touch her bare knees again—fucking finally—and push them wider,wider,shouldering my way in between.
There she is: slick and swollen. Mouth-watering. My sigh gusts over her slit and Poppy moans, rocking against the empty air.
I can’t believe I’m down here, close enough to taste her arousal. Close enough to feel her heat on my cheeks.
My voice is pure gravel. “It aches, sweet girl?”
“Uh-huh.” Fingers tangle in my hair, and she’s not shy at all, twisting and tugging. Driving me wild before I’ve even begun. “So, so bad. Please, doctor.”
I bury my face against her pussy with a snarl.
She’s sweet.
Salty.
Warm and wet and quivering.
Jesus Christ.
I wanted to make Poppy squirm for me, wanted to draw out her breathy gasps, but I don’t feel in control as I kneel here, licking her from ass to clit. I’m a man possessed. I’ll die if I don’t get my fingers inside her; if I don’t feel tremors wrack her frame. If I don’t taste every fucking inch.
God.
She’s tight around my fingers. Panting so sweetly as she writhes on the desk, and I’m never leaving this office. Never getting up from this rug. If I get my way I’ll die down here, Poppy’s wetness soaking my stubble and my cock drilling a hole through my fly.
“Whit,” she wails. She’s going to tear my hair out by the roots, but I keep lapping at her clit. “Holyshit. I’m gonna—”