Sunday's air was thick with the promise of rain, a dampness that made the green of the lawns almost unnaturally vibrant. Poppy was at her usual post by the living room window, a cold glass of lemonade sweating in her hand, when she saw Rory’s front door open.

She had taken watching-her-handsome-neighbor up as a hobby. Whether he walk his dog at afternoon or do grocery shopping at night. She wonders if he was always up early for daily run, feeling bad herself because she's not an early bird, especially in this school break before starting college.

But instead of the usual routine of him emerging with his leviathan of a dog, he stepped out alone, stretching his arms over his head in a way that made his t-shirt strain across his shoulders. Her breath hitched. He turned, his gaze seemingly casual as it swept across the street, and for one paralyzing second, Poppy was certain his eyes locked directly onto hers through the pane.

She froze, the glass halfway to her lips, feeling excited to her core. But he didn’t wave, didn’t smile, just held the look for a beat too long before turning to lock his door. A flush, hot and immediate, crawled up her neck. He couldn’t possibly have seen me, she told herself, the bratty part of her brain insisting the angle was all wrong. But the confident part of her preened, just a little.

The following day, at 5 PM found her not on her lawn but on the sidewalk. A floppy gardening hat perched on her head and a wicker basket hooked over her arm, entirely empty. She was practicing a look of casual absorption with a dandelion when the familiar, ground-shaking thump-thump-thump of paws approached.

She looked up, and there he was, the massive German Shepherd named Titan leading the charge, Rory holding the leash with an easy strength. Today, he wore a simple gray tank top, his sleeve tattoos on full display, the intricate patterns shifting with the roping muscle of his arms. He just looks oh-so-good to her.

“Whoa, easy, buddy,” Rory’s voice, a low rumble, cut through the quiet street as Titan strained toward her. Poppy’s heart launched into her throat, but she stood her ground, lifting her chin, her teeth sinking down her lower lip.

“He’s… enthusiastic,” she managed, her voice coming out higher than intended.

Rory’s lips quirked, drawing attention to the small mole near the lower left corner. “He thinks your hat might be a toy. Or a snack.” His eyes, a warm hazel, crinkled at the corners. “You’re the neighbor, right? The one who’s always… gardening.” The playful pause before the last word was deliberate, loaded.

Poppy felt a fresh wave of heat on her cheeks. “Poppy,” she said, thrusting a hand out with a confidence she didn’t feel. “And yes. I value a well-kept lawn.”

He took her hand, his grip warm and calloused, swallowing hers completely. “Rory. And this is Titan. We value walks where we don’t terrify the locals.” He gave the leash a gentle tug. “Seems we’re failing on that front most days.”

“I’m not terrified,” she lied instantly, the words brash and pushy. She withdrew her hand, noticing the faint smudge of dirt on her thumb. “He’s just… very present.”

Rory chuckled, a rich, warm sound. “That’s one word for it.” He glanced at her empty basket. “Harvest not so good today?”

Caught, Poppy’s mind blanked. The naive, innocent part of her wanted to stammer an excuse, but the pushy, confident side won out. “I’m between crops. It’s a very specialized process.” She looked from the basket to him, meeting his gaze directly. “Your vacation must be a nice change from… wherever you were.”

“It is,” he said, his eyes not leaving hers. “Quieter. More interesting things to watch.” The double meaning hung in the humid air between them. Poppy wondered if he did watch over someone else, that thought made her furrowed her brows.

Titan, bored of the conversation, let out a whine and nudged Rory’s leg with his massive head. “Alright, alright. We’re going.” He gave Poppy a slow, easy smile. “See you around, Poppy. Try to stay out of Titan’s snack bracket.”

She watched them go, the powerful man and his powerful dog, her knees feeling suspiciously weak and her cheeks stretched with a huge smile. That was the best day she ever had this year.

The next day, she didn’t garden. She sat on her front porch steps at 4:55 PM with a book she didn’t read, her bunny teeth worrying her full lower lip. Right on time, his screen door squeaked open. Today, he had Titan on a shorter leash, and he was wearing aviator sunglasses that hid his eyes. He descended his steps and, instead of turning right for his usual route, he turned left, directly toward her house.

Poppy’s pulse became a frantic drum against her ribs. She stared determinedly at a random paragraph in her novel, the words blurring into black smudges. The click-click of Titan’s claws on the pavement grew louder, then stopped. A shadow fell over the pages of her book. She looked up, the sun framing Rory’s broad shoulders in a halo of gold.

“You’re off your grass today,” he observed, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head. His thick brows were lifted slightly. Her mouth parted at the sight.

“The light’s better for reading here,” she said, the lie automatic. She closed the book, noticing it was upside down. That was stupid move, Poppy!

A slow, knowing grin spread across his face, highlighting the slight crook in his nose. He had seen.

“What’s the book?” he asked, taking a single step closer. Titan sat, his tongue lolling, surprisingly docile.

“Poetry,” Poppy blurted out, because it was the first genre that came to mind. It was actually a thriller.

“Poetry, huh?” Rory crouched down, bringing himself to her eye level. The movement was fluid, masculine. She could see the individual strands of his brunet hair, the faint stubble along his jaw, the way his mole moved when he spoke. “Any good?” His stare alone made her cheeks flushed.

“It’s… about longing,” she said, the words slipping out before she could cage them. The air between them seemed to still, the playful flirtation cooling into something warmer, more intimate. His kind eyes softened, the perpetual playful glint deepening into something more thoughtful.

“Longing’s a powerful subject,” he said, his voice lower now, almost intimate. For a moment, neither spoke. The neighborhood sounds—a distant lawnmower, a child’s shout—faded into a fuzzy backdrop. Titan whined softly, breaking the spell. Rory stood, his height imposing against the sky. “We’re blocking your light.” He tapped the cover of her book with a finger. “Enjoy your poems, Poppy.”

He gave her one last, lingering look, a look that felt like a physical touch, before clicking his tongue for Titan and continuing his walk. She almost didn't want him to leave.

Poppy didn’t move from the steps until long after he’d disappeared around the corner, the ghost of his presence and the echo of his words—longing’s a powerful subject—twisting something new and thrilling deep inside her.

That night she went up her room right after dinner and face planted on her bed, breathing heavy, cheeks flushed. She really like Rory even when he's 6 years older than her. She likes his ruggedly handsome face. His mole on his left lower corner of his lips, his voice that sounds hot and gives her a goosebump feeling. She also likes how he manhandle Titan when he was barking at playful kids down the street. She definitely likes how he look at her. She can't pinpoint if it was an admiration look or annoyed look, he was always been unreadable.

But that doesn't stop Poppy to want him. The idea of him being taken hurted her, she want to ask him that but its something personal so she just assumed that maybe he likes older and experienced woman, not someone like her, who never had a touch of a man, including her father, in her whole life.

But thinking of Rory not liking her back doesn't stop her hand as they travel down her stomach and pushes passed the garter of her plaid shorts.

She inhaled shakily, breathing in the pillow where she's laying on stomach at. She was about to slide in her cotton panties when she heard a knock by her door.

"Poppy, sweetheart? Could you bring this pie I baked to our kind neighbor, Rory?" She heard her mother say.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as she scrambled off the bed, smoothing down her rumpled shorts and running a hand through her tousled blonde hair. The lingering heat between her legs was a secret pulse, a throbbing reminder of what she’d been about to do, and the interruption felt both jarring and like a reprieve. She opened the door to find her mother holding out a still-warm apple pie, the scent of cinnamon and baked apples filling the hallway.

"Be a dear and take this over to him," her mother said with a warm smile, oblivious to the storm of desire and insecurity raging inside her daughter. "He helped me carry in the groceries earlier, and it’s the least we can do."

Poppy took the pie dish, the warmth seeping through the towel wrapped around it and into her palms. "Sure, Mom," she said, her voice a little too breathy. She walked downstairs on unsteady legs, each step making her hyper-aware of the dampness clinging to her cotton panties, the ache that hadn't subsided.

Standing on Rory's porch a minute later, the pie in her hands felt like both a shield and the most transparent excuse in the world. She took a deep breath, the humid night air doing nothing to cool the flush on her skin, and rang the bell.

The door swung open quicker than she expected, and there he was, filling the doorway in a worn, thin white t-shirt and low-slung sweatpants that did little to hide the powerful lines of his body. His hair was slightly damp, as if he’d just showered, and the scent of clean soap and something uniquely masculine—Rory—washed over her. His eyes, dark and unreadable in the porch light, dropped to the pie, then traveled slowly back up to her face, lingering on her parted lips.

"Poppy," he said, his voice that low rumble that never failed to send a shiver straight down her spine. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" A faint, knowing smile touched his lips, making that damn mole near the corner of his mouth taunt her. She thrust the pie toward him, her fingers brushing against his as he took it, and the brief contact felt like a jolt of electricity.

"My mom wanted to thank you," she managed, her voice barely a whisper. "For the groceries."

He held the pie with one hand and leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, his gaze intense, sweeping over her flushed cheeks, her nervous posture. "That's awfully sweet of her," he said, his eyes dropping to the rapid pulse beating at the base of her throat. "You okay?" The playful, perverted glint was back in his eyes, and it made her stomach clench with a fresh wave of desperate want. She opened her mouth to reply, but no sound came out, utterly captivated and laid bare under his knowing hazel stare. Especially, when she had to strained her eyes to not look down passed his thin shirt that doesn't hide the bulk of his abdomen.

Poppy stuttered and fumbled cheeks flushed when made a comment on how flustered she look. She just couldn't help it.

He smells so good, the aftershave, the soap he used, even the deodorant. It was absurd thing to feel that towards a man who barely spoke to her in the past because he was always in his deployment. And now that in his vacation she was glad that she was making the most of it.

She started to feel embarrassed when he invited her in, cheeks burning, and the dampness of her panties, screaming to her to give in. But she was painfully aware that maybe it was just a friendly invitation. And so she shake her head, despite thats what she wanted the most.

"No, I—I can't," she stammered, her voice trembling as she took a step back, her cheeks burning with a mixture of shame and desire. The scent of him—clean soap, faint aftershave, and something uniquely male—lingered in her nostrils, making her head spin. "Thank you, though. For accepting the pie. I should go."

She was so sure she heard him let out a chuckle.

She turned abruptly, her heart hammering against her ribs as she fled across the lawn, the dampness between her legs a throbbing, insistent reminder of what she’d almost allowed herself to imagine. Each step felt like a betrayal of the ache pulsing deep within her, a dull throb that seemed to echo the rhythm of her hurried footsteps. She didn’t dare look back, terrified that if she saw him still standing there, watching her with that knowing, half-amused expression, she might turn around and throw herself into his arms, consequences be damned.

Back in the safety of her own room, she leaned against the closed door, breathing heavily as if she’d run a mile. The phantom sensation of his gaze lingered on her skin, and she could still smell him—that intoxicating blend of clean man and subtle spice.

Her fingers trembled as she slid them back beneath the waistband of her shorts, this time without hesitation. She imagined it was his calloused hand instead of hers, his low voice murmuring in her ear as she circled her clit, her hips rocking against her own touch.

She came so quick with a choked gasp, biting her lip to keep from crying out his name, her body shuddering with waves of pleasure that felt equally blissful and hollow. Afterward, lying spent in the dim light, she stared at the ceiling, feeling so stupid for turning down the invitation.

The next day arrived and Poppy expects it to be mundane day when her mom left for work in a hurry of finding her lost phone. She thought of watching movies while thinking of him until night time and eat takeouts. But she was only halfway through it, just at noon, when she heard a knock through the front door.

The knock was firm, startling her from a lazy daydream about Rory. Poppy padded barefoot to the door, expecting a package delivery, and pulled it open without thinking. The breath left her lungs in a rush.

Rory stood on her welcome mat, one hand braced against the doorframe, his gaze dark and intent. He was dressed in simple gray sweatpants and a tight black tee that clung to every ridge of his abdomen.

"Your mom left her phone in my truck yesterday," he said, his voice a low thrum that vibrated straight through her. "Thought I'd return it." He held up the device, but his eyes never left hers, dropping to take in her thin cotton sleep shorts and the way her nipples were already pebbling against her tank top. She blinks and cleared her throat, crossing her arms against her chest, earning a small smirk on his lips.

Before she could form a coherent thought, he stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click that felt deafening. The space in the hallway shrank instantly, filled with his heat and his scent. "You ran away pretty fast last night," he murmured, his voice dropping to an intimate whisper as he backed her against the wall.

"Rory, you're not supposed to—" One large hand came up to cradle her jaw, his thumb stroking over her flushed cheek. "I've been watching you watch me for weeks, Poppy. You think I don't know what that look in your eyes means?" His other hand slid down her side, coming to rest on her hip, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh there. She could feel the unmistakenably hard and undeniably thick length of his cock straining against his sweatpants, pressing into her lower stomach. And almost immediayely, a desperate, wet heat flooded her panties.

She swallows hard, cheeks flushed. "What look I give?" She asked. She's well aware that she's expressive. She can't help because he's all what she wants anyway.

Rory's eyes darkened with a mix of amusement and raw hunger, his thumb still tracing lazy circles on her cheek as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin.

"That look, Poppy," he murmured, his voice a gravelly whisper that sent shivers racing down her spine, "the one where your eyes go all wide and hungry, like you're starving for something you don't even fully understand yet. It's the look that says you want my cock buried deep inside you, making you scream." His words hung in the air between them, crude and unfiltered, making her knees weaken as a fresh rush of heat flooded her core. He pressed his body fully against hers now, pinning her against the wall with his solid frame, his hard length grinding deliberately against her lower belly through the thin fabric of his sweatpants.

She could feel every inch of him, thick and insistent, the heat of his erection searing through to her skin, and it made her pussy clench with a desperate, aching need she'd never felt before. It was too hot for her.

Her breath came in short, shaky gasps as she tried to maintain her feigned ignorance, her bratty side pushing back even as her body betrayed her. "I—I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, but the lie fell flat as her hips involuntarily bucked against his, seeking more of that delicious pressure.

Rory chuckled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through her, and his hand slid from her jaw down to her neck, his fingers wrapping lightly around the delicate column as if testing her limits. "Oh, you do, sweetheart," he growled, his other hand dropping to her hip and yanking her even closer, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass through her sleep shorts.

He ground against her again, harder this time, letting her feel the full, throbbing girth of his cock as it strained against the fabric, a wet spot of precum already seeping through and dampening her thigh. The scent of his arousal mixed with the faint musk of his soap, filling her senses and making her head spin; she was acutely aware of the slickness building between her legs, her cotton panties growing soaked as her pussy throbbed in response. She swallows hard, blinking at him as she fisted on his shirt.

As if on cue, Rory's mouth finally crashed down on hers. His lips demanding and possessive, his tongue forcing its way past her parted lips to claim her in a kiss that was all raw, filthy hunger. She tasted the salt of his lips, the faint bitterness of coffee on his breath, and it ignited something primal inside her, her hands flying up to clutch at his shoulders, her nails digging into the taut muscles beneath his tee.

He groaned into her mouth, the sound deep and animalistic, as his tongue delved deeper, swirling and thrusting in a rhythm that mimicked what she imagined his cock would do inside her. She let out a shaky gasp, head tilting to kiss him harder. Rory granted her a deep guttural groan in return.

His hand on her ass squeezed harder, kneading the plump flesh before sliding lower, cupping her front through the shorts and pressing a finger against the seam of her pussy. "Fuck, you're already so wet for me," he rasped against her lips, his voice laced with that perverted glee she found intoxicating.

She whimpered, the sound muffled by his kiss, as he rubbed her clit through her cotton panties. She tried to push his hand away but the pressure was just enough to make her hips jerk forward, chasing the friction. Her pussy was a throbbing mess, juices leaking out to stain her panties—shorts even and she could feel the way her folds were swelling, begging for more.

Breaking the kiss, Rory pulled back just enough to yank her tank top up over her head in one swift motion, exposing her perky tits to the cool air of the hallway. Her nipples were hard as pebbles, flushed pink and begging for attention, and he didn't hesitate, dipping his head to suck one into his hot mouth. "God, these tits are perfect," he muttered around the sensitive bud, his teeth grazing it lightly before he bit down just enough to make her cry out, the sharp sting blending with the wet heat of his tongue. She arched into him, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as he lavished attention on her, switching to the other nipple and sucking it with the same voracious intensity. All the while, his hand worked between her legs, shoving her shorts and panties aside to delve into her slick folds, his fingers exploring with crude precision. "Look at this tight little cunt," he groaned, his voice thick with lust as he slid one thick finger inside her, stretching her virgin walls in a way that made her gasp at the intrusive fullness. She was so wet that it squelched obscenely with every pump of his finger, the sound echoing in the quiet house, and he added a second digit without mercy, curling them upward to hit that sweet spot deep inside that made her vision blur.

Poppy's body was on fire, every nerve ending alive with sensation as Rory's fingers fucked her slowly, deliberately, stretching her pussy with a rhythm that was both torturous and exquisite. "Rory, oh God," she moaned, her voice breaking as he thumbed her clit in tight circles, the added pressure making her thighs tremble. He was relentless, his mouth leaving her tits to trail wet kisses down her neck, biting and sucking marks into her skin as if claiming her. "That's it, baby, let me hear you," he urged, his words crude and commanding, "tell me how much you want my dick splitting you open." She could feel his cock twitching against her, the head leaking more precum now, smearing against her stomach as he ground into her. Pulling his fingers out with a lewd, wet pop, he brought them to his mouth, sucking her juices off with a groan that made her blush furiously. "Taste so fucking sweet," he said, his eyes locked on hers as he reached down to shove his sweatpants out of the way, freeing his thick, veined cock. It sprang out, rock-hard and glistening, the head an angry red and already dripping, and she stared at it in a mix of awe and fear—the sheer size of it, how it pulsed with need, making her pussy clench in anticipation.

Rory lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist as he pinned her back against the wall, the head of his cock nudging at her entrance with a pressure that made her breath hitch. "I'm gonna fuck you so good, Poppy," he promised, his voice a low, dirty whisper as he slowly pushed inside, inch by inch, stretching her virgin pussy with a burning fullness that stole her words. She cried out at the intrusion, the way her walls clamped down on him, gripping his shaft as he sank deeper, the wet sounds of her arousal making it all the more intense. He didn't rush, savoring every moment, his hips rocking in shallow thrusts to work himself in further, until he was buried to the hilt, his balls pressing against her ass. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, starting to move, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in, the force making her tits bounce and her moans turn to screams. Each thrust was hard and deep, hitting spots inside her that made stars explode behind her eyes, the slick slide of his cock coated in her juices, the air filled with the obscene slap of skin on skin. She clung to him, her nails raking down his back, lost in the overwhelming pleasure-pain, her body building toward something monumental as he pounded into her with that playful, perverted edge now fully unleashed. It was too quick, too toe-curling sensation that she barely realized they are still behind the front door of their house.

Just as Rory's cock drove into her with relentless force, the rhythm of his hips slamming against hers echoing through the empty house, a muffled crunch of tires on gravel pierced the haze of her pleasure. Poppy's eyes flew open, the stars behind her lids shattering as she registered the sound—a car pulling into the driveway, her mom's unexpected return. Her heart hammered wildly, a cocktail of panic and illicit thrill surging through her veins, making her pussy clench tighter around his thick shaft as if to hold him captive. "Bathroom," she whispered urgently, her voice a breathless gasp against his ear, her nails digging deeper into the muscles of his back, not wanting to let go but knowing they had to move. Rory didn't hesitate; he gripped her ass with one hand, the other snatching up their discarded clothes in a crumpled heap, his cock still buried inside her as he hoisted her off the wall and strode down the hallway with powerful, determined steps, her legs wrapped around his waist and her wet folds sliding along his length with every jolting movement.

The bathroom door clicked shut behind them, the lock sliding into place with a soft snick that felt deafening in the sudden silence, and Poppy pressed a finger to her lips, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement as they heard the front door open downstairs. Rory's gaze locked onto hers in the mirror, his hazel eyes dark with unquenched lust, and he didn't waste a second—setting her down on the edge of the counter, his hands roaming her body as he pulled out just enough to tease her entrance before plunging back in with a slow, deliberate thrust. Her pussy stretched around him, the fullness overwhelming, every inch of his veined cock dragging against her slick walls, coated in her juices that dripped down to pool on the cool marble beneath her. "Shh, baby, we've got to be quiet," he growled low in her ear, his voice a filthy whisper that made her clit throb even harder, his hips rolling in measured, torturous circles, grinding deep inside her virgin cunt as if savoring the way she pulsed around him. The sound of her mom's footsteps creaking on the floorboards below only heightened the intensity, Poppy's breath coming in shallow, silent pants as she bit her lip to stifle a moan, her tits bouncing with each controlled pump of his dick, the head of his cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside her that made her vision blur and her body arch toward him.

Rory's hands slid up to cup her breasts, his fingers pinching and twisting her hardened nipples with crude precision, drawing out whimpers she struggled to swallow, the pain blending into ecstasy that had her pussy dripping even more, her arousal slicking his balls as they slapped lightly against her ass with every inward push. He leaned in, his stubbled jaw brushing her neck as he nipped at the sensitive skin, leaving marks that would bruise later, his hot breath fanning over her as he murmured, "Your cunt's gripping me like it doesn't want to let go—fuck, you're so tight and wet for me." The words sent a shiver down her spine, her inner walls fluttering around his thickness, the lewd squelch of their connection barely contained in the small room, the mirror fogging slightly from their shared heat. Poppy's hands fumbled for purchase on the counter, her fingers slipping on the condensation as he picked up the pace just a fraction, his cock sliding in and out with long, agonizing strokes that stretched her to the brink, the head of his dick pressing against her cervix in a way that made her toes curl and her thighs tremble around his hips. She could hear her mom calling her name faintly from downstairs, the voice echoing up the stairs, and it only fueled the fire in her core, a naughty thrill making her hips buck up to meet his thrusts, her pussy clenching rhythmically as if daring him to go deeper.

But Rory had other plans, pulling out with a wet pop that left her gasping at the sudden emptiness, his cock glistening with her juices as he lifted her off the counter and guided her down to the tiled floor, the cool ceramic a stark contrast to the heat radiating from their bodies. He positioned her on all fours, her knees pressing into the mat, and she felt his hands on her hips, yanking her back onto his throbbing length in one smooth, invasive motion that filled her completely, his balls nestling against her swollen clit as he began to fuck her slowly from behind. "That's it, take every inch of my dick, you dirty little thing," he rasped, his voice laced with that perverted edge, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass as he spread her cheeks, watching his cock disappear into her tight hole with each deliberate thrust. The angle was deeper now, his shaft rubbing against her G-spot with punishing accuracy, making her pussy gush and contract, the wet sounds of their fucking mixing with the faint rustle of her mom moving around the house. Poppy buried her face in her arm to muffle her cries, the sensation of his thickness stretching her virgin walls almost too much to bear, every vein on his cock pulsing against her sensitive flesh, her juices trickling down her thighs in sticky rivulets as he ground into her, his hips circling to hit every nerve.

Sensing her need for more control, Rory pulled her up, sitting back on the closed toilet lid with a thud that made her straddle him, his hands guiding her hips as she sank down onto his upright cock, the head breaching her entrance and stretching her all over again. "Ride me, Poppy—show me how bad you want this," he commanded, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that sent shockwaves through her, his hands on her waist steadying her as she began to move, her pussy sliding up and down his length in a tentative rhythm that quickly turned desperate. She could feel every inch of him filling her, the base of his dick grinding against her clit with each downward thrust, her tits pressing against his chest as she leaned in, her lips finding his in a sloppy, silent kiss to keep from making noise. The mirror opposite caught their reflection, her flushed face and his intense gaze, the way his cock vanished into her soaked cunt, and it drove her wild, her hips rolling faster, taking him deeper until he was hitting her cervix with each bounce, the fullness making her eyes roll back. Rory's hands roamed everywhere, one thumb rubbing her clit in tight circles while the other squeezed her ass, his breaths hot and ragged against her neck as he whispered filthy encouragements, "Your pussy's milking my cock so good, baby—gonna make me cum deep inside you." The thrill of her mom just outside the door heightened every sensation.

"I can't keep being quiet—ahh—jesus christ."

"Shh, baby." Rory whispers to her cheek, gripping tightly on her waist, guiding her down. Poppy's body trembling on the edge, her orgasm building like a storm as she rode him harder, the wet slap of their bodies a muted symphony in the confined space.

As the pleasure crested, Rory's cock swelled inside her, his thrusts from below matching her frantic pace, the head of his dick pulsing against her walls as he fought to stay quiet, his fingers digging into her hips to pull her down fully onto him. Poppy's pussy clenched around him in rhythmic spasms, her climax crashing over her in waves that made her whole body shake, her juices flooding out to coat his balls and drip onto the floor beneath them, the intensity so overwhelming that she had to bite his shoulder to stifle her scream. He followed soon after, his cock throbbing as he emptied himself into her with hot, thick spurts, filling her virgin cunt until it leaked out around his shaft, the sticky warmth mixing with her own release in a mess that left them both panting, and one barely spent.

Rory pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his chest heaving against hers as the last spasms of his release faded, leaving a sticky trail of cum dripping from her swollen pussy and down her thighs. She was a trembling mess in his arms, her inner walls still fluttering around his softening cock, the aftershocks making her whimper softly, but he wasn't done—not by a long shot. His hazel eyes darkened with that familiar perverted gleam, a wicked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, highlighting the mole that drove her wild. "Oh, we're not finished yet, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that sent fresh shivers through her oversensitive body. He eased out of her with a wet, sucking sound that made her blush furiously, his cum leaking out in thick, pearly rivulets, and without another word, he scooped her up in his strong arms, her legs dangling limply as he carried her toward the bathroom adjoining the hallway.

The bathroom air was cool against her flushed skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from their bodies, and Rory set her down gently on the edge of the tub before reaching for the faucet. Water gushed out in a steaming torrent, filling the porcelain basin with swirling eddies that promised both relief and more torment. He yanked the shower curtain aside with a sharp rustle, the metal rings clinking, and tested the water with his hand, his tattooed arm flexing under the dim light. "Get in," he commanded, his tone playful yet edged with that commanding dominance that made her pulse race. Poppy hesitated for a split second, her knees weak and her pussy still throbbing from the recent fucking, but she obeyed, stepping into the tub as the warm water rose around her ankles, swirling and lapping at her skin. Rory followed, his muscular frame dominating the space as he settled in behind her, guiding her to sit between his thick, hairy thighs. The water enveloped them both, rising to their waists, and she leaned back against his solid chest, feeling the thump of his heart and the press of his semi-hard cock against her lower back. His hands, calloused and insistent, began to wander immediately, starting at her breasts—cupping them roughly, his fingers digging into the soft, plump flesh as he fondled and squeezed, making her nipples harden again under his touch.

He twirled her left nipple between his thumb and forefinger, the sensation a mix of pleasure and pain that drew a gasp from her lips, his other hand sliding lower to trace the curve of her stomach, teasing the sensitive skin just above her mound. "Look at you, all fucked out and still so goddamn eager," he growled into her ear, his breath hot against her neck as his fingers dipped lower, brushing through the slick folds of her pussy. The water amplified every touch, the warmth making her clit throb as he parted her lips with two fingers, exposing her swollen, cum-slicked entrance to the gentle current. He started slow, circling her clit with deliberate pressure, building that familiar heat inside her until she was arching back against him, her breaths coming in short, needy pants. But just as she felt the edge approaching—that dizzying peak where everything tightened and threatened to shatter—he pulled away, his hand retreating to her thigh, leaving her hanging on the brink. "Not yet, baby," he chuckled, his voice laced with cruel playfulness, and she whined in frustration, her hips bucking involuntarily. He repeated the torture, his fingers returning to her breasts, pinching and twisting one nipple hard enough to make her cry out, then sliding back down to her cunt, thrusting two fingers inside her tight, dripping hole with a slow, curling motion that hit that sweet spot deep within. The water sloshed around them, the sounds of her wetness mingling with the gentle splash, and he edged her like that for the first time, pumping in and out until her walls clenched desperately around him, only to withdraw again when her moans grew louder, her body trembling on the cusp.

By the second time, Poppy was a quivering wreck, her pussy clenching around nothing as Rory's fingers danced over her clit, rubbing in tight, relentless circles that had her grinding against his hand, the water churning with her movements. "Please, Rory, I need it," she begged, her voice hoarse and broken, but he just laughed, that deep, throaty sound vibrating through her as he denied her again, pulling his hand away to grasp her hips instead, holding her still. His cock, now fully hard again and pressing insistently against her ass, throbbed with every beat of his heart, leaking precum that mixed with the water. He edged her a third time, this one slower, more deliberate—fingering her entrance with just the tip of one digit, teasing the stretched, sensitive rim before plunging in deep and withdrawing just as her orgasm built, leaving her gasping and clawing at the tub's edge. The fourth edge came with his mouth on her neck, sucking hard bruises into her skin as his thumb worked her clit in feather-light strokes, her juices flowing freely to coat his hand and dilute into the water, the scent of their sex heavy in the steamy air. She was sobbing by the fifth, her body a live wire of unfulfilled need, every nerve ending screaming for release as he finally, mercifully, positioned her just right, her back arching as he whispered filthy promises in her ear.

With a growl that echoed off the tiled walls, Rory shifted her forward, the water sloshing wildly as he lined up his thick, veined cock against her entrance, the head pressing insistently at her soaked folds. "Time to fuck you dumb, just like you deserve," he rasped, and with one powerful thrust, he buried himself inside her, stretching her tight cunt all over again. The water made everything slicker, hotter, as he pounded into her from behind, his hips slamming up in a brutal rhythm that had her tits bouncing and waves crashing over the tub's edge. He gripped her waist, fingers bruising her skin, pulling her down onto his shaft with each upward drive, the head of his dick hitting deep, battering her cervix in a way that blurred pain and ecstasy. "Take it, you little slut—feel how my cock splits you open," he grunted, his balls slapping against her clit with every thrust, the wet squelches and her muffled screams filling the bathroom. He fucked her relentlessly, the water amplifying the sensations, her pussy gripping him like a vice, milking his length as he edged her no more, finally letting her crash over the edge into a shattering orgasm that made her vision white out. But he didn't stop; instead, he pulled out with a lewd pop, dragging her under the shower spray, the water cascading over them as he pinned her against the wall, lifting one leg to plunge back in, fucking her dumb under the hot streams until she was a limp, moaning mess, his cum mixing with the water as he filled her again and again.

"Next time you run away from me," Rory smirks at her when she came for the nth time in locked bathroom. "not only this tight pussy I will fuck dumb, you hear that?"

Neighbor