His Poppy: Furious Daggers MC

by Brogan Riley

  She’s nervous, It’s written all over her face. Maybe it’s me or the boys or everything.

  Poppy

  We eat at the table. There are a few bowls of salad, chicken, baby potatoes, chocolate cake, and a lot of liquor. Glasses clink and slam on the top. The men rumble and howl. The women squeal.

  After the meal, we return to the couch. Jackson pulls me into his lap, kisses my neck, and grips the back of my head. Heaviness sits on my chest. Fiona said I looked beautiful, but he hasn’t. I need to know whether I’m enough for him.

  “You like my dress, Jackson?”

  “I do.” His voice is deep and raspy.

  He draws me closer to him as his hard manhood digs into my thigh. That excites me and scares me to death. I’m not experienced. I don’t know what to do in bed.

  “I need the toilet,” I say.

  “Sure.” He lifts himself and carries me over to the bathroom.

  Fiona joins us. “I’ll help her.”

  “You have a job to do,” Jackson says, sounding angry.

  “Jeez, Jackson, I didn’t do anything wrong,” Fiona says. “I’m just trying to help.”

  I slide down to the floor and grab her hand. “Can I talk to you, Fiona?”

  Jackson looks at me like he wants to kill me, but he nods, saying nothing.

  Fiona smiles at me and helps me walk into the bathroom. We drop onto an antique golden sofa.

  “What is it, Poppy?”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “I know what to do.” She smirks at me. “Open your mouth and close your eyes, sweetie.”

  I do as I’m told. I feel a pill on my tongue.

  I shudder as dread fills my veins.

  No. No. No.

  Stop thinking, Poppy.

  “Swallow the pill,” Fiona says as she holds my chin, the movement causing me to close my mouth. “It’ll help. Trust me.”

  I open my eyes and decide to do as I’m told even though I’m scared of the pill. She’s my friend. She wants to help.

  I watch her walk over to the washbasin. I swallow the pill as she brings me a glass of water so I can wash it down.

  “What is it for?” I ask.

  “For having fun.” She puts both her hands on my head and kisses my lips. It’s as delicate as a spring breeze. Friendly.

  Weird, but I’m weird too.

  I chuckle and lift myself from the sofa. My head feels fuzzy, but my mood is much better. I use the toilet, wash my hands, and walk out of the bathroom.

  Jackson is waiting for me outside. He looks so handsome. So… hot.

  I cling to him and wrap my arms around his chest. It’s so easy now, like my arms know what to do. I rub myself against him, causing a chuckle to leave his mouth. Everything is so dreamy, so good. I rise on my tiptoes and grip his neck with my hands. I want to kiss him. I want everything that can happen between a man and a woman.

  I want him so badly.

  Chapter 8

  Jackson

  I glare at Fiona and she averts her eyes.

  “What did you do, Fiona?” I ask as I bury Poppy in my arms.

  “Nothing,” Fiona says. “Have fun.”

  “Poppy’s on drugs.”

  “It’s just a tiny pill. She’ll be more relaxed.”

  I growl. “Don’t ever do this again.”

  “Jeez, Jackson, look at her.” Fiona shakes her head. “She’s happy. You’re happy. Have fun, you two.”

  Yeah, Poppy is having fun at last. She’s plastered to me, demanding my attention. She keeps rubbing her chest up and down mine as her tiny hands slip under my t-shirt. A damn very addictive feeling. I grip her waist and lift her off the floor. She wraps her arms and legs around me like we’re one body. Fiona smirks at me, takes over the bar, and stops paying attention to us.

  Poppy is kissing my neck; her lips are as hot as fire, her tongue is as wet as rain. I fucking love it.

  I carry her back to the couch and sit down, holding her in my lap. She straddles me, grazing along my chin. Her tiny hands open my jacket and one of them slips under my t-shirt. She can be so sensual in her pristine delicacy.

  My rationality fades away. I slam my lips on hers and tumble us down so she’s on her back and I’m on top of her. I kiss her until she’s breathless, our tongues stroking each other. She crosses her ankles behind my back and I rub my erection against her crotch. We kiss deeper and it’s like tasting the forbidden. She’s so inexperienced, so pure. Untouchable. But I am touching her.

  I own her.

  I slide my fingers under her panties and spread her folds. She’s so wet for me.

  A thought crosses my mind.

  Not like this.

  I don’t want to be like this anymore. I want to be different with Poppy. I want to be private and decent with Poppy.

  I pull both of us up and hold her in my lap. Amy delivers a glass of Pink Tatia for Poppy, which is a shot of vodka topped with grape juice. Poppy grabs the glass and takes a gulp. Her coughing fit follows.

  Right. My baby girl will have a hangover tomorrow.

  We kiss and drink the alcohol. It’s like being in another dimension. Only me and her. The heat of our kisses. Poppy falls asleep after the third round of Pink Tatia, so I nurse her in my arms and sip vodka straight from the bottle.

  I watch my boys having fun, but they are not as loud as always. My little flower seems to have a taming influence on my beasts.

  I lean back on the couch. Poppy’s head is resting against my forearm and her ass is on my thighs. I kiss her forehead and she shudders. My little treasure.

  The quiet music keeps playing. My beasts chat instead of yelling. It feels homey.

  Fiona approaches my couch and leans towards me. “Happy?”

  “Very happy,” I say. “She looks beautiful.”

  She puts her hands on her hips. “I’m a professional.”

  “You are.”

  “Jeez, you can be nice.”

  I allow myself to slide my hand under Poppy’s dress and glide it over her ass. Mine. Every inch of that perfect body is mine.

  Fiona shakes her head as a genuine smile raises the corners of her mouth. “Old wolf.”

  “What?”

  “You are an old wolf. Poppy is a young wolf and we’re your pack.”

  She’s burbling.

  Actually, she’s not.

  Wolves are noble predators. Yeah, I like the idea.

  Poppy

  A wave of thickly heat spreads over my back. It’s scratchy too. It’s burning. It’s… wet. I open my eyes. I wish I hadn’t. My head feels like it will explode. My body is clammy with sweat. Restrained. I realise I’m sheltered by Jackson’s body, with my back against his chest. He’s naked, and so am I. His thick manhood pokes in my thigh.

  “Poppy?”

  “I’m dying.” My voice is raspy and weak.

  “You are not.”

  I feel his hand on my breast. His fingers twist my nipple. I moan as my ass rubs against his hips.

  “You’re so fucking receptive,” Jackson says like he’s very contented.

  “I need to shower.”

  “Me too.”

  I can smell us. It’s very intense but not repulsive. So… dirty.

  Something hot, hard, and sleek touches the entrance of my pussy.

  “I need…” My voice halts.

  His mouth touches the side of my neck.

  “Let’s have that shower,” Jackson says.

  He gets up and pulls me out of the bed. Nausea courses through my stomach at the memory of the alcohol I consumed last night, and I avert my eyes so as not to look at his stiff manhood. He drags me into the bathroom and shoves me into the shower cabin. We stand opposite each other as warm water starts streaming down.

  It feels magical, only me and him. We’re enclosed in a hot blurry reality.

  I’m not ashamed anymore. I should be, but I’m not. I feel like a woman. His woman.

  My world is tiny. Tinier than other people�
�s, but I feel like I have the right to be loved. To be happy. I have the courage to be loved by a man for the first time in my life.

  “The piano is arriving tonight,” Jackson says.

  “Thank you.”

  “Only thank you?”

  I stiffen. He wants to banter with me. I can’t banter.

  I step out of the shower cabin and grab a towel. Wrapping it around my body, I reach out for my toothbrush.

  “Poppy, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m wrong.” I start brushing my teeth.

  “Everything is fine, baby girl.” Jackson holds his toothbrush.

  Droplets of water adorn his skin. He looks so beautiful. So off limits.

  I rinse my mouth and walk out of the bathroom. Jackson follows me and shoots his arms towards me, pulling me to his chest.

  “Tell me what to do, Poppy. What do you want, baby?”

  “I want… love.”

  “What kind love?” His voice is raspy in an alluring yet dangerous way. “This kind of love?”

  With his arm crossed over my chest, he slides his other hand between my thighs and touches my pussy. I feel like I’m turning into liquid gold. Fever fills my veins. He runs his finger around my entrance and then massages one point. My knees bend, but he holds me tight against his chest. I feel like there’s no me. There’s a need to rise and explode. I clench my fists as my muscles tense up. I groan out my impatience.

  Jackson spreads my feet wider with his as his mouth burns kisses up my neck.

  “I need…” I growl.

  His mouth covers mine as his hungry, minty kiss causes my mind to whirl.

  I rise.

  I explode.

  Jackson

  I lay her on the bed, her eyes wide. She’s still shivering. I tear the towel off her and crawl on top of her.

  I hold my hard cock and line it up with her entrance. Her fingers dig into my shoulders as I push in and bury my whole length inside of her in one thrust. She jerks her body away, a whimper leaving her mouth, but I immobilise her beneath me.

  “Poppy, look at me.”

  There’s a chasm of pain in her eyes. She’s a little fawn after all.

  Her pussy clamps around my cock, bringing me to the brink, but I don’t move.

  I sink my fingers into her damp hair and kiss her sharp gasps.

  It feels so fucking good.

  I wrap her thighs around my waist and kiss her deeper. I caress her lips with mine until her body softens beneath mine.

  “Am I a woman to you, now?” she murmurs.

  “You’re my woman, Poppy.”

  “I want to be your woman. Your only woman.”

  I love her attitude. “You are my only woman. Always and forever.”

  Poppy

  He sits up, pulling me up with him. I’m rooted. Impaled. It burns so much tears prick my eyes.

  Yet it feels so good.

  Somehow, the pain is pleasant to me. Pleasant in a dark way.

  I don’t understand. I feel. I need.

  His mouth closes mine and I feel merged with him like we are one body. Like our souls are touching.

  I never imagined two people could be so close, so… blended.

  I never imagined sex could be so… dirty, yet so pleasant.

  Jackson hooks me under my arms with his hands and moves me up and down his hardness. I dig my heels into the mattress. My whole bottom is burning, but I feel so deliriously full. I need this divine fullness.

  “Good, Poppy?” Jackson nibbles on my earlobe. “Tell me.”

  My voice is trapped in my throat.

  His mouth burns kisses around the corner of my mouth. His tongue slips in. I’m so pleasantly breathless.

  “Poppy, look at me.”

  I look into his blazing eyes. His face radiates wildness and violence, but I’m not scared. I feel like I’m making the rules in this hot moment.

  We fall onto the pillows, his body slapping against mine. The world seems to swell and pulsate, or is it me? There’s more heat, more pain, more sweat. More pleasure. His heavy breath and impatience. A hint of alluring brutality in the air enveloping us.

  My body rocks beneath his as he pushes his manhood deeper and deeper into me. Harder and harder. I hear myself moan.

  It’s too much. Too much, and not enough. Not enough. I need more.

  We’re primal and mystical.

  We’re as elemental as our wild feverish needs.

  My body arches and a wave of liberating heat surges through me. I feel my inner walls spasm around his thickness.

  “Fuck, Poppy, so good with you.”

  He moans as droplets of his sweat splash against my face. His body trembles against mine and liquidly hotness fills me. Salt pricks my lips.

  Jackson

  She’s still shivering in the aftermath of her orgasm, her cheeks so beautifully flushed. Wet tendrils of hair cling to her face. She smells of sex. Of me.

  I roll off her and lie on my back, pulling her to me. She rests her head on my chest. I slide my forearm under my head as my eyes travel to my cock covered in her virginal blood. My inner animal chants ‘mine’.

  I fucking own her.

  My phone rings, but I ignore it.

  Poppy mumbles something.

  “We should make breakfast, huh?” I say.

  Her stomach growls in response. She sucks in a breath and buries her face in my chest. My stomach growls. Poppy starts laughing.

  I pull her onto my chest and cup her face with my palms. “You see, you little flea. We’re the same.”

  “I can’t banter.”

  “So what?”

  “Everyone can banter. I can’t.”

  “Priest can’t banter, but I really like him. You’ll meet him tonight, so you’ll see.”

  She nods as a smile curls her lips, but then her eyes narrow.

  “You like him, but you don’t love him, do you?” She locks her elbows as her full breasts brush against my jaw.

  I don’t think she’s even aware of her shameless yet so innocent behaviour.

  “I love him as my club brother, Poppy. That’s a kind of love.”

  My words seem to give her relief and her eyes gleam with joy. She wants to be loved. Lucky girl. I love her so much. Madly.

  Say it to her, Jackson. It can’t be that difficult. It won’t kill you.

  “Love you, my little fawn.” Hell yeah, I’m still alive.

  I’ve never said that to any of my women.

  I said ‘I love you’ to my mother, but never to my bitches.

  I never loved passionately until I met Poppy. I don’t know what she’s done to me. I want to suffocate her with my love.

  She presses her lips against mine. She can’t kiss for shit, but that doesn’t matter. I can teach her, guide her, forge her to be only mine. I love her imperfections. She’s so perfect in her flaws.

  Does that make me a bad man? Surely it does.

  But, on the other hand, love is never perfect. Shouldn’t be. Beauty is imperfect. Flawed. Love should be good and bad at the same time. Should be dirty, beautiful, and ugly. Filthy. Hell yeah, very filthy.

  I run my palm down Poppy’s back and dip a finger into her heat. She hisses in pain.

  My treasure needs a relaxing bath so that she can spread her legs for me at night.

  My phone rings again but the sound dies out. I haven’t charged it for a while so it must be the battery.

  I get up, prepare a bath for Poppy, and help her into the bathtub.

  “Prez,” Tyler’s voice comes from the bedroom.

  “What?” I growl as Poppy shudders and the water splashes out of the bathtub.

  “The piano, Prez,” Tyler says. “Also Doctor and Priest are back from the job.”

  “Church in the evening,” I say. “Tell Fiona to come here in about five hours and get lost.”

  I hear his heavy footsteps drift off.

  “The piano?” Poppy says as she rests her forearm against the edge of the bathtub.

/>   “Yes,” I say, kissing her forehead. “But you need to be nice to me if you want to play it tonight.”

  She wrinkles her forehead as her eyes lock onto mine. “Why do you want me? Is this because I’m not like everyone else?”

  “You’re one of your kind.” I glide my thumb over her lower lip.

  Her sweet mouth will look perfect when she wraps it around my dick. I feel myself grow hard again.

  Chapter 9

  Poppy

  He pulls me out of the bathtub and wraps a towel around me, patting me dry. He’s naked, and then I’m naked too.

  Some people enjoy anomalous things in life. Is he one of them? Am I a tempting anomaly to him?

  No, stop it.

  Whatever this is between us, I want to enjoy it. I’m happy now. I haven’t been happy for a long time.

  In fact, I’ve never been happy.

  My dad was a busy man, and he was so blind. I was even blinder. I was so unhappy until I met Jackson.

  I was scared until he saved me.

  I cling to him, aware of his hardness pressing into my tummy. My arms rise and I grip his neck. I plant a kiss on his chest and circle his nipple with my tongue and then he caresses my nipple with his thumb. I stroke his stiff length with my hand. He shivers at my touch.

  I thought I was at his mercy.

  But maybe it’s the other way round?

  “Fuck, Poppy.” There’s something elemental about his voice. Animalistic.

  He scoops me up into his arms and carries me out of the bathroom. The cold air strokes my skin, causing goose bumps to pop up all over my skin.

  We walk down the stairs and enter the kitchen, so pristine in our nakedness. So free.

  Jackson sits me on the kitchen table and opens the fridge. He takes out a bowl stuffed with strawberries. He holds one of them and glides it over my lips. It’s so cold, but I’m so hot.

  Jackson circles my nipple with the strawberry and I shiver. From cold. From my dark needs.

  He trails a cold line down my tummy with the strawberry and dips it into my heat. I lean against my elbows as my knees spread. There’s no me. There’s heat. There’s coldness. There’s impatience.

  He pumps the fruit in and out. “Open that sweet mouth of yours, Poppy.”

  I part my lips, and he puts the strawberry in. It’s salty from my wetness and sweet. So dirty. I swallow all of it.

  Jackson growls as he holds his stiff manhood and gives it a squeeze. His expression darkens and he looks menacing.