My bitter laugh caught on a gasp.
“Has anyone put their mouth on you?”
“No... oh god. Ronan—”
The orgasm that exploded between my legs made me cry out. Made my legs buckle. “Fuck,” I said, teasing it out for as long as it would last. The major explosion faded, and lightning trails rippled through me. I braced myself against the bedside table and opened my eyes.
Only to find him right in front of me. A breath away. His eyes glittering. I jerked back like there was any distance to find between us, but the wall was at my back.
“Can I touch you?” he asked, and there was no game in his voice. No purr. No trick. There was only need. And it was what I liked about the tennis coach. Being needed. Like this. Dripping wet and soft.
And that he asked... that was different. I felt flush with some new power he’d never given me before.
“Yes.”
What I expected; his fingers on my skin. His hand between my legs. My breasts grabbed in rough, desperate hands, none of it happened. This man... this dangerous mysterious man with all his secrets, went down on his knees in front of my body. His hands slid around my waist, pressing me against the wall. The heat of his hand, the shock of his touch made me gasp. My muscles shook.
“Spread your legs,” he said, and I did it. Knowing exactly how wide he wanted, I gave it to him. That unfettered look between my legs. My soaking-wet panties. My slick thighs. My pink skin, usually hidden, completely revealed to him like this.
“No one has kissed this beautiful spot on your body?”
Speechless, I shook my head.
Without another word, he put his open mouth to me, breathing me in through the cotton. His tongue pressed against me, and I pushed up on my tiptoes, still sensitive from my orgasm. But that was why he had his hands on my waist. To keep me where he wanted me.
“Move your panties,” he said against me.
“Ronan.” I was raw. Shaking. There would be no other orgasm.
“Move them, Poppy.”
And I did. I pushed my underwear aside, and he put his mouth back on me. Against me. He sucked me into his mouth. He tongued me and slipped his hands up to cup my breasts. What did I know about what my body could do? Nothing, apparently.
Because the next orgasm was picking me up in its fist, and I screamed, clutching his head, grinding myself against him. It was like some kind of door had been kicked open, and there was something new for me. Something I never expected.
Being touched like this was a revelation. Like suddenly being worshiped, when all my life I’d only been forsaken.
“Sorry,” I breathed and let go of his head. He chuckled against my skin, licking my slick thighs like he wanted to taste everything. He pulled my underwear back over my body, covering me like it mattered at all. He kissed my belly. And then stood up.
His cock brushed against my belly, and I arched toward him, pressing myself against him. But his hands returned to my waist and pushed me back against the wall. His bent head rested against mine.
So long he stood there. Just breathing.
I reached for his face, but at the brush of my fingers he stepped away. The moment over.
“What else did you tell Eden Morelli?”
Blinking, I only gaped at him. My pleasure-soaked brain unable to catch up to what he was saying.
“Poppy!” he snapped, the sharp disapproval in his tone went to work on my instincts, and I reached down and grabbed my sweatshirt. Putting it over my shaking and sweaty body. “What else did you tell her?”
“I didn’t... nothing. Nothing important.”
“You are not the judge of what’s important.”
“Ronan, can we—” I stepped off the wall, and he stepped back. A reversal of our positions just a few minutes ago. “We talked about you. I asked how Caroline would have met you.”
“And what did she say?”