Wings Over Poppies (Over #2)

by J. A. Derouen

  He continues to drink me in, his eyes running up and down my body. He’s sitting on the side of the bed, his erection tenting his shorts, and I lick my lips at the sight. I don’t think I can wait much longer. My body is humming with need, and I fight the urge to straddle him right this very second.

  “Take off your shirt.” His voice is raspy, and I can feel his restraint waning. “Slowly.”

  I reach for the bottom of my shirt and slowly lift it over my head, feeling my hair graze my shoulders as it releases from the sweatshirt. I toss it to the side and my hands reach behind me to unclasp my bra, and I look to West for approval. He nods his head and grips his cock tightly through his shorts, his fist moving ever so slowly up and down. Wetness floods my panties as I flick the clasp, letting the straps fall onto my arms. I hold the cups in place with one hand as I reach out to him with the other. His fingers interlace with mine and he pulls me slightly forward.

  “Drop it.”

  Without a thought, I obey his command, and my bra hits the floor without a sound. West goes completely still. The only movement is his chest as he breathes in and out. He rests the flat of his palm between my breasts and presses gently as he closes his eyes, seemingly overrun with emotion. His eyes open slowly, and his hand moves toward my already erect nipple. He pinches it between his fingers and pulls down, freeing it on his descent. I tip my head back and moan, overcome by the sensation—pain mixed with the most enjoyable pleasure. As he pinches my other breast, still fisting his cock with his other hand, I know I can’t take much more. Every touch is teasing, tickling, infuriating perfection.

  “Please, West,” I beg, my voice shaky, vibrating with need.

  “Almost there, Alex. I want you to take off your pants for me.” My hands tuck into the waistband of my pants, but he reaches up and stops me. “Turn around.”

  I pivot on my foot and slowly pull my yoga pants down my legs, bending over as far as I can in the process. West’s hand runs over the cheek of my ass and squeezes. He runs his thumb over my panties, barely touching my clit through the material. His fingers run underneath my thong, pulling it to the side just as his kiss to my cheek turns into a bite. With no forewarning, he lowers his face between my legs and runs his tongue along my seam. I’m so turned on, I nearly come the second his tongue touches me.

  If he doesn’t take me soon, I’m afraid I may explode.

  I stand to my full height, and look over my shoulder to see him reach behind his head and pull off his shirt. He grabs my hips and turns me to him as he pulls my thong down my legs, none too gently. I’m glad to see he’s losing his patience because I lost mine ages ago. He props his left hand on the mattress and lifts up on his right foot to pull off his shorts.

  I climb onto his lap and crash my lips to his. I grind into his cock, desperately needing the friction. My wetness coats him as I greedily slide up and down, and a groan builds low in his chest.

  I hear the wrapper tearing, and he pulls away from me to slide on the condom.

  West holds me with both hands around my ribcage, slowly sweeping his thumbs across the underside of my breasts. “I’ve waited a lifetime to get to you. I feel like it’s worth everything that’s happened, just to be in this moment.” He nips at my bottom lip.

  When he’s done, he leans back onto his elbows and sears me with his eyes.

  “Lower yourself onto me, Alex. I want to watch you.”

  “Yes.” I wrap my fingers around his length and line him up with my entrance. I impale myself on him in one smooth motion, throw my head back, and groan in pleasure.

  Yes.

  My body starts rocking of its own volition, needing to deepen the connection, craving the friction. As my pace quickens, West grabs my hips.

  “Slow down, love. Let’s take our time.”

  I whimper softly. “I can’t … I need to move. Please.”

  “Shh, I’ve got you,” he says as he lowers his eyes to where our bodies are joined. He guides my hips, and I take him into my body in slow, languid movements. He lightly brushes his thumb over my clit, and the tortuous throb radiating through me explodes into pulsing ecstasy.

  As my body convulses, West throws me onto the bed like a rag doll and hovers over me. He drives into me with such force, another wave washes over me, and I’m overtaken again.

  “Harder, please. Don’t stop.” The words are falling unchecked from my lips.

  He buries his head in my neck and growls as he plunges into me … one, two, three more times. I feel him pulsing inside of me, straining to go even deeper than he already is.

  As our bodies still and our breathing returns to normal, West lifts up on his elbows, smiles lovingly, and brushes my hair out of my face.

  “Wow, that was … that was…” I shake my head, searching for the right words to explain what we just experienced.

  “That was us, Alex. Me and you, plain and simple.”

  “Just and Just As” by Penny and Sparrow

  “Little Wonders” by Rob Thomas

  I LAY SILENTLY, hands tucked underneath my pillow and knees drawn up, watching him in wonder. His features are relaxed in sleep, and I hold myself back from running my fingers through his hair. I just want a few more moments before he wakes up to feel this. I’ve waited so long for him.

  I shift my body slightly and inch closer to him, suddenly aware of the delicious ache between my legs, a physical reminder of our reunion. In the middle of the night, I woke to West slowly sliding into me from behind. In direct contrast to earlier in the evening, this time was gentle, unhurried, and almost dream-like. I came on a lazy sigh, with one of his hands between legs and the other wrapped tightly across my chest. Moments later, he shuddered through his release while biting down on my shoulder.

  His lashes flutter, his eyes open, and he smiles sleepily. “Why are you so far away?”

  I scoot closer and settle into the crook of his arm. I wrap my hand around his waist and hitch my leg onto his. “Is this close enough for you?”

  “Actually, no, but I probably need to give you a little break.”

  I tilt my head to look at him as he runs his hand over his face and inhales deeply. “I can’t believe I didn’t dream last night. I mean, I’m glad, but I just can’t believe it.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “Yeah, it’s good, but I’m not kidding myself here, and neither should you. I’m not stupid enough to think one good night means I’m cured. Chances are, if you sleep with me, you’ll experience one soon enough.” His expression is grim, and it’s obvious he’s worried about how I will react.

  I refuse to let him see worry in my expression. I smile and shrug my shoulders. “And that’s okay. If it happens, it happens. We’ll deal with it. Together.”

  “They’re pretty intense, Alex. I don’t want to scare you.” He takes a lock of my hair and pushes it behind my ear, his hand running down my neck as it falls between us.

  “I don’t frighten easily, West. You’re not alone in this anymore.” Despite my continued assurances, he looks skeptical.

  “That simple, huh? When I wake up, I’m drenched in sweat, my heart’s racing, and I’m gasping for breath. I wish I could tell you it’s going to be easy, but I’ve been dealing with this for years.”

  He looks away, and I know he sees this as a weakness, some terrible flaw. I remove my body from his and tug him until we face each other, side by side. “When it happens, I want you to place your hand over my heart, like this.” I take his hand and press it firmly to the left side of my chest. “Do you feel that?”

  He nods. “Yeah.”

  “And I’ll put my hand over your heart, like this.” I place my hand over his heart and feel the rhythmic thumping beneath my fingers. “I’ll stay with you, breathe with you, beat with you, just like this, until the panic washes away. I can’t make it go away, West, but I can make damn sure you never have to deal with it alone again.”

  As we lay there, searching each other’s eyes, sharing the beat of our hea
rts, a tiny smile forms on West’s face. I see something that’s been missing from this beautiful man.

  Hope.

  “Oh, thank God you’re alive.” Sara breezes into the gallery and slides her cell phone out of her pocket, all the while smirking at me. “Let me call Adam and Cain and let them know we can call off the search party.”

  “Things have been … busy.” I give her a tight hug. “I’m sorry I’ve been a bit MIA.”

  “A bit MIA? That’s quite an understatement. I’ve been wondering if you and that hot piece of military meat ever planned on coming up for air.”

  I point my finger accusingly and squint my eyes. “You? You know what they say about glass houses, right?”

  She raises her hands in defense and chuckles. “I know, I know. Adam and I are guilty of that, too.” She smiles and shrugs her shoulders. “It’s an amazing feeling, though, right?”

  I wave her over to sit next to me. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen Sara, and I can’t wait to catch up with her. Without thinking, I grasp my locket and squeeze tightly, the pearls digging into my palm. I catch myself doing this throughout the day, clinging to the tangible reminder of West. He’s here with me. He’s never far—never again.

  West’s gift left me speechless. It meant the world to me that he remembered the eye drawing from years before. While lying in his bed, legs tangled and my head on his chest, I questioned him about the locket. It turns out Tara, the secretary at the rehab clinic, has a friend who’s an art major at Northern U.

  “I handed her the locket and asked her if she knew anything about King George IV. She shrieked loud enough to pierce my eardrums and ripped the locket from my hands. After she finished fanning herself and ‘swooning’—her words, not mine—she got straight to work.”

  I can’t really blame the girl; I hadn’t stopped swooning since the moment I opened the box.

  “So tell me about him. I know the generalities, but I want to know everything. And I mean ev-er-y-thing.” Sara rubs her hands together and bounces her shoulders up and down.

  “My, aren’t we eager this morning?”

  “I’m just so freaking excited for you. So tell me about him. I know he works at the rehab clinic, but what else? Who is West Adler, the man who’s stolen my friend’s heart?”

  “He’s in graduate school for physical therapy right now. He was able to get through his undergraduate rather quickly since he had credits from before he joined the military and did online courses while he recovered in San Antonio. He’ll continue to work there after he graduates—the owner is looking to retire in a few years, and he wants West to buy him out.”

  “How’s everything going with his … you know, PTSD?”

  “He’s dealing with it, but it’s a work in progress. It’s not something you can overcome in a couple of days, ya know?” I stay purposely vague, because while Sara is one of my best friends, I don’t feel right about sharing West’s personal struggles.

  “I’ve tried to stop by your house a few times this week, but I never seem to catch you. Are you staying at his house?”

  I shuffle through papers on the counter and avoid Sara’s eyes. I don’t know why this suddenly feels like an inquisition, but I’m trying not to sound peeved as I answer.

  “Um, yeah, I’ve been staying over there most nights. His house is equipped with handrails, and other accommodations, so it’s just easier. I’ve looked into having those things added to my house, so hopefully we’ll take care of that soon.”

  Sara’s eyes widen at my answer. “Oh, wow. I didn’t realize you were at that point already. Isn’t all of this a little … I don’t know … it just seems a little quick, in my opinion.”

  I bristle and cross my arms defensively. “In my opinion, Sara, it’s six years too slow. I’m not wasting another second away from him.”

  Sara’s shoulders slump and she reaches for my hand. “Shit, I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t mean to put you on the defensive. I’m known to overanalyze everything, you know that. I didn’t mean to sound like such a bitch. I just worry about you and want the best for you. You know that, right?”

  I deflate instantly, close my eyes, and shake my head. “God, I know that, Sara. I’m sorry. I’m the one with my head in the clouds, and you’re the one who questions every single thing.” I chuckle under my breath. “I didn’t mean to get so snippy. I’m just a bit protective of him.”

  “That has got to be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. But you know, I’m not the one you need to protect him from.”

  She raises her eyebrows knowingly.

  “Marlo!” we say in unison, both bursting into a fit of laughter.

  I drive up to West’s house and turn off my car. I smile when I notice the porch light on and his truck is the garage. I know he’s waiting for me to get here.

  I told him I’d be late tonight, but my schedule unexpectedly cleared. I had a meeting tonight with a married couple for some custom work, but they needed to reschedule. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy about it.

  Our tests came back from the clinic this afternoon, and we both received a clean bill of health. I couldn’t get here, to West, fast enough. I want to feel all of him. I crave it.

  I bound up the steps and turn the door handle, shaking my head and giggling to myself when I realize it’s unlocked. He never takes a moment to lock his doors, but he’s armed my house with an alarm system second only to Fort Knox.

  I can hear the shower running when I step into the living room, so I walk to the back of the house, laughing again when that knob turns, too.

  My eyes scan the bathroom, taking in the custom built handrails that were installed to accommodate him. As time passes, I learn more and more about the things West needs to function independently. A couple of weeks ago, I would have been clueless about shower legs, forearm crutches, non-slip mats, and shower chairs. Now, I’m beginning to realize these changes make West’s injury easier for him to handle. It’s the reason why we spend most nights at his house.

  The shower door is flecked with beads of water running down the glass, and a silhouette of West sitting on the shower bench is visible. His head is tilted back onto the back shower wall, his eyes are shut, and his muscles are corded and tense. His fingers are wrapped tightly around his cock. His hand pumps in a slow, tortuous rhythm. He looks flawless … stunning … mesmerizing.

  The sight of him, lost in obvious ecstasy, causes a flood of wetness between my legs, and my dress is over my head and on the floor in two seconds flat. I quickly pull my hair up into a bun, and place my locket on the counter. I lose my panties and bra on my approach, and only when I open the shower door does he realize I’m here.

  His brown eyes are even darker, full of desire, filled with lust, and directed solely at me. He removes his hands from his cock, and I quickly drop to my knees and grab his wrists, shaking my head.

  “Please don’t stop,” I beg. “I want to watch you. Please.”

  He replaces his hand, fisting himself as he keeps his eyes trained on me. His other hand wraps tightly around the base of my neck.

  “What do you see, Alex?” He sounds raspy and urgent.

  I drop my head to his lap, licking his tip slowly. A low growl erupts from him, and I know his restraint is waning. “I see the most gorgeous man on the verge of letting go … losing control.” A slight smirk appears on his lips, and his eyes become hooded. “What are you thinking about, West?”

  A muted chuckle rumbles in his chest. “What am I always thinking about? Or who?” He runs his hand down my jaw and tips his index finger under my chin. I lift up onto my knees and meet him eye to eye. “It’s as if I imagined you, and you miraculously appeared.”

  He devours my mouth, our tongues twisting and tangling hungrily. All the while, I feel the rhythmic pumping of his hand near my stomach. I break the kiss, unable to resist licking his cock again, sucking gently before I break free. My hand slides between my legs, already slick and swollen for him.

  “Up Ale
x, now.” His words leave no room for argument. I stand on shaky knees, and he whips me around, my back to his front. He grabs my hips roughly and lowers me onto him. I feel my hair fall to my shoulders, and I hear the clank of hairpins hitting the shower floor. His hand ropes my hair and pulls me back to him.

  “Fuck, Alex. Having you wrapped around my dick, bare, nothing between us, just might be the death of me.”

  West’s tongue runs up my neck, the rivulets of water running over my nipples, and the punishing pace of his thrusts rapidly drive me to the edge. The brutally raw pleasure borders on pain as West’s teeth sink into my shoulder, catapulting me to release.

  My heated moans echo off the shower tiles, sounding foreign and primal to my own ears. I reach back, gripping the wall, West’s neck, his hair—anything to ground me.

  We both come violently, West’s fingers between my legs, my hands pinching my nipples tightly. We slump onto the shower bench in a sated heap, both gasping for breath.

  My senses slowly return as I lift from West’s chest and steady myself. Only then do I notice his leg.

  My eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Why aren’t you wearing your shower leg?”

  A flit of irritation crosses his features, but then he smiles to hide it. “I’m living on the wild side tonight.” He shrugs his shoulders and lifts me off his lap. “I don’t wear it all the time, Alex. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Okay. Well, um, do you want me to grab your crutches, or maybe get your shower leg so you can get out of here without slipping?”

  “I’ve been doing this on my own for two fucking years, Alex. I don’t need a nurse maid.” His tone is clipped, and I flinch at his words.

  “I-I’m sorry. I was just trying to help,” I stammer as I open the shower door to create a bit of distance. Before I step through, his hand grabs mine and pulls me back in.