“It’s seven, Klaus. Crap.”
They rolled off the bed.
Both of them were naked, and he stared at her.
Her blonde curls were a mess, but she looked incredible. As if he’d just fucked her. Together, they knelt on the bed, meeting each other halfway.
Klaus gripped her neck as Poppy put her hand on his hips, and they both came together, kissing. He was so hard.
It would be so easy to press her to the bed, to slide deep inside her cunt, to fuck her, to claim her. To stop other men from even looking in her direction. That was what he wanted. To stop other men from seeing her.
Poppy was all his. He wasn’t going to share. He didn’t even like Greg being in the same house as her.
They broke apart when there was a knock on the door. Poppy fell off the end of the bed, as he’d forgotten to lock the door last night. Within seconds, his father opened the door.
“Dad, hey,” he said, grabbing the bedding and sliding it across his lap.
“Klaus, are you only just getting up? This isn’t like you.”
He usually woke up and went for a run. He didn’t like to stay in bed.
“Yeah, er, what a hell of a party last night, huh?” Klaus asked.
“I don’t recall seeing you there. Did you go?”
“Yeah, I was there. I wouldn’t miss it.”
Poppy was on the other side of his bed, and he was aroused. He’d been ready to fuck his mate, but his father was now in the room. Sneaking around fucking sucked.
What did you expect for being a bully?
This was his punishment.
“Are you okay?” George asked. “You’re looking a little flushed.”
“Just woke up, Dad, nothing wrong, just trying to get my head around the fact that I’m … awake.”
“I’ll be downstairs. We’ll have breakfast together.”
“Sure thing. Sure.”
His dad left his bedroom, and they waited a few minutes.
“Breakfast with your dad?” Poppy asked. “Klaus, we left my clothes in the laundry room.”
“Oh, shit!” He gritted his teeth.
“It should be fine, right? Your dad doesn’t do the laundry. Please tell me, Klaus, that your father doesn’t do the laundry.”
“No, of course not. Mom loves to do the laundry.”
No, she didn’t. His mother tended to ruin clothes. She had once turned all their white shirts pink by putting in a red pair of socks into the white wash, as she didn’t think it would matter.
His father did the laundry. All the damn time.
He didn’t know when his parents had come home. “Look, I’m going to sneak you out, and I’ll get your dress.”
“Sneak me out? Klaus, come on. Why don’t I just wait here?”