The Polly Principle by Davina Stone

Chapter 14

Was that really her?

At some level she knew those little mewls and gasps were coming out of her mouth, but with the mind-blowing tactics of Solo’s tongue, she really was too… preoccupied to—ahhhhhh…

He’d just hit the sweet spot so perfectly that a string of fairy lights lit up behind her eyes. And when two warm hands sneaked up, cupping her breasts, his thumbs skimming over her taut nipples in perfect sync with his tongue and… oh, boy, this was her complete and utter denouement.

Polly’s hips bucked wildly, at which Solo let out a low, sexy chuckle.

Maybe it was the total appreciation in that laugh, as if she was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted, maybe it was the firm sweep of his tongue… backwards, forwards, deeper, firmer, combined with the blissful tweaking of her nipples, and… suddenly… everything was climbing fast and furious, coiling tighter and tighter into one bright, bunching seismic almighty…

“Ohmygodohmygodoh myyyyyyy—GOD!”

Polly’s body was no longer hers to own, limbs jerking, back arching, complete nonsense flying out of her mouth and her fingers riveted to Solo’s head as she clung on for the ride of her life.

A ride that kept on giving… and giving…

Who knew how long afterwards? Maybe minutes… maybe hours… she found herself lying limp and utterly sated on the rucked-up sheets of Solo’s single bed.

Eyes wide, all she could do was stare into the darkness and gulp in great mouthfuls of air, like a fish dumped on the shore.

Finally, fingers stroking Solo’s spiky soft hair, she managed an off-key, “That was intense.”

As he grinned up at her, it struck Polly that he had the look of a hunter who’d emerged victorious with his prey.

Okay, okay, she’d concede.

He’d won. Hands—or rather, mouth—down.

After a long, long moment to regain her breath, she decided to do a little exploration with her foot between their bodies. Yep. There it was. A magnificent erection. Polly let her toes do a spidey massage up and down the length of him, which elicited a deep growl and a sudden catapulting of his body up the length of hers. He leaned on his elbows, looking down at her, and she held her breath at the sheer animal beauty of him. The silver of his eyes, slits of brilliant passion, his lips full and juicy from the wickedness they’d been up to, and his short hair standing up in little spikes around his head.

Oh god, he’d make a wonderful werewolf.

She kissed his mouth and it tasted musky and sweet as a drop of moisture fell on her thigh from his cock. As her fingers closed around the thickness of him, he pulled back.

“I don’t have a condom.” His look was so alarmed she had to laugh. She waved the hand that wasn’t occupied at the floor.

“Over there.”

“What?”

“I slipped one in my bra before I left home. It’ll be on the floor somewhere.”

Solo shot up so fast, and with such determination, Polly kept laughing. She watched him as he searched the floor. Slim, taut, beautifully put together, with the agility of an elite athlete.

“Do you run?” she asked.

“What?”

“You look like a marathon runner.”

‘Got it.” He dived to pick up the little foil package and landed back on the bed. “The only running I’ve done lately is chasing after you.”

For some reason she felt insanely pleased by this.

When he loomed over her, his lips pursed, and a wicked glint in his eyes, she suddenly realised what he was up to. Oh god, he was going for her nose. With a squeal, Polly clapped a hand over her face. “Don’t kiss my nose.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like it. Here, give me that condom!”

“Do I trust you?”

“Never trust me.” She went to bite his neck and they fell around laughing and kissing, until she managed to pull the condom pack from his hand. Finally, kneeling above her, his thighs scissoring her pelvis, Solo let her take over. His gaze burned into her as she concentrated on ripping the packet with her teeth. Swiftly, she rolled the condom down his erection, then cupped his balls, heavy and rock-hard. Just like his beautiful big cock.

When he sank between her legs, Polly opened to accommodate him with a sigh.

So what if it was missionary position? So what if it was good old orthodox vanilla-flavoured sex? It felt beyond amazing as Solo hovered, then thrust, then drew out and did it all over again. Lips tight, eyes like lightning streaks in his taut face, his beauty commanded her to watch. He bit his lip, the veins in his neck prominent as he focused. With each one of his deep thrusts, her pleasure escalated, needing him deeper, harder, needing… more… She pressed her palms into his buttocks, pulling him closer, and he slammed into her.

How could it be that her body was begging again for relief?

As if he read her, he whispered against her ear, ‘Touch yourself.”

A guy had never instructed her to do it, but it seemed Solo knew instinctively what was needed.

“I want us to come together,” he husked out and gently took her hand and placed it in between her legs. Her fingers grazed the rigid base of his cock, his balls nudging against her fingers as their bodies found purchase and rhythm.

He was close, she could tell by the swell of him inside her, but god, so was she, soooo sooo close… Her fingers moved faster.

Solo’s vivid gaze held hers. “Come with me.”

Their eyes locked.

To her infinite surprise the sheer intimacy of it catapulted Polly right over the edge. As she spasmed tight around him, she felt him release deep inside her.

Heard her name rung out of his lips.

And all the time those silver eyes held hers in thrall.

Finally, he slumped heavy against her, breathing hard and she wrapped her arms around his sweat-slicked body. Letting her hands shimmy around his back, up his neck and into his damp hair, Polly gulped down the tightness in her throat and blinked away the watery feeling in her eyes.

No big deal.

It was just a case of multiple orgasms messing with her brain chemistry.

Nothing more.

* * *

Solo lay panting,loving the feel of her fingers smoothing through his hair. He had to withdraw. Take the damned galoshes off his cock. But all he wanted was to hold her close.

His release had been so mind-blowing, so powerful, he actually wasn’t sure what he’d shouted.

He just knew he’d yelled a hell of a lot and the word “Polly” had featured high on the list. Christ, he wouldn’t have had a clue if Carts had come home in the middle of it, but with the amount of “Oh my god, Polly” he’d shouted, he’d probably left the whole street in no doubt as to who he was fucking.

He rolled over and she made an appreciative sound that made him feel like he was exiting the podium after scoring gold in the Olympics. He removed the condom and knotted it, and chucked it with expert precision at the bin. Then he rolled back to face her.

To his absolute delight, she snuggled into him, pushing damp curls off her face and eyeing him out of bright perky eyes. She was so beautiful his breath caught; swollen lips, pink cheeks and an orgasm flush between her breasts. He loved how easily they enjoyed each other physically. There seemed to be no barriers when the clothes were off. Maybe they should stay naked in bed for a week, a la John Lennon and Yoko Ono.

Stroking her cheek gently, he said, “You look gorgeous when you come.”

Her mouth quirked, “Glad my O face met with your approval.”

He kissed her forehead. She snuggled into him and her curls tickled his nose. It was tempting to tease her that a mere week and a half ago she’d warned him she didn’t fraternise with work colleagues, but he wasn’t going to test his luck. If it were up to him, this would be only the beginning…

He frowned. The beginning of what?

He didn’t know, except he didn’t want to think of an end point…

As if she sensed his body tighten, Polly cast a glance up. One eye peeped out from behind a waterfall of curls.

“You okay?”

“Never better.”

“Are you the kind of guy who smokes after sex?”

He mockingly cast a glance down at his cock and it dared to stir with renewed interest. “Not that I’ve noticed.”

Polly gave him a playful slap on the arm. “Dag.”

She was stroking her hands across his chest in slow sweeps. “So, where did you learn to pleasure a girl so perfectly?”

A bubble of pride swelled his chest. “Don’t all guys?”

She gave a startled burst of laughter. “Are you kidding me? No, they do not.”

“And you’re an expert, right?”

“I might have slept with a few men, yes.” Her lip curled. “So what?”

“So, nothing. I’m not judging.” Not judging, no, but he could feel the shadow of jealousy lurking somewhere inside him. The sharp jab in his solar plexus was not welcome. He didn’t need to risk any more wounds right now.

“That’s good.” She pushed away from him, and it felt like someone had opened a door next to his heart and let in a draft of cold air. “Because I have no time for all that double-standard bullshit you men think you can pull.”

“‘You men?’ What makes you think you can shove me into the sexist jerk basket?”

“I didn’t.”

“You got close.”

She stuck out the tip of a pink tongue. “Tetchy.”

“Yeah, dead right. I’m not judging you, so don’t pull that on me.” His tone was sharper than he’d meant, and for a split second she looked confused and suddenly child-like. He longed to ask more questions, to connect, dig deeper, but right now he sensed he should tread carefully.

Placating, he murmured, “So what made you change your mind?” Stroking her neck, he was pleased she didn’t pull away; she was more inclined, it seemed, to nudge against him like a kitten about to purr.

“Mmm?” she queried, eyes darkening as his fingers moved to the swell of her breast.

He phrased it differently. “Why’d you decide not to stand me up?”

She was watching his fingers, and so was he, the way her nipple peaked as he lightly pinched it. “I—” She lay back against the pillows and frowned; that was his cue to stop. Probably a good thing, since they’d used up the one and only condom.

“Keep it quiet, but Judith’s long-term partner has just called it off.”

Relief flooded him, and then he felt bad that his gain was Judith’s loss. “So that’s why you pulled the pin earlier?”

She nodded, playing with one of her longer curls, pulling it out, staring at it so her eyes nearly crossed, then letting it ping back into a tight coil. Solo swallowed a smile. He’d bet she’d done that since she was a kid.

“Yes, she turned up just as I was about to leave. She was a complete mess, poor darling. She’s well rid of him—he’s about as inspiring as a wet dishcloth—but she doesn’t see it that way, obviously.”

“Poor Judith.” He knew what unquestioning devotion felt like when it got slammed into a brick wall without notice.

“I couldn’t really explain in a text.”

“A bit more info might have helped.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Better for my health, too.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“Meaning it might have saved me smoking a full month’s ration of ciggies.”

“Wow! I affect you that much!” It was a tease, but a little glimmer of something else shone out of her eyes. Hope flared in his chest but he forced his face into casual lines. “Friends always come first,” she finished, breaking eye contact.

Doof. That put him in his place. “Is she okay?”

“As okay as you’d expect. She’s a trooper. She was going to stay at my place overnight, but then decided to go to her mum and dad’s. So I, um—made the split decision to pop over and see”—she turned on her side again, supporting her head under her cupped hand, and looked up at him out of lazy emerald eyes—“whether you were still interested…” Her finger traced a line down his shoulder, over his bicep and along his forearm.

“And found I was,” he croaked.

Not smiling, she placed his hand back on her breast and let out a husky little sound as he took the invitation seriously and squeezed her nipple between finger and thumb.

“Jes-us,” he groaned. “Why did you only bring one condom?”

“An oversight.” She sat up now, looking like a kid in a candy store, starting to skim kisses across his chest, over his stomach, down the line of fine hairs that thickened towards his groin. He had no say over what was happening below his waist and she knew it. Warm fingers closed around his suddenly throbbing length.

She grinned, like she’d landed the best lollipop in the whole wide world. “But we have other ways and means…”

With another groan, Solo threw himself back on the bed and let her have her wicked, wicked way.

* * *

Polly woke with a start.

Solo’s arm was heavy across her waist. After another very satisfying and creative bout of sex, they’d both fallen into a deep slumber.

But now her bladder was full to bursting point.

She shifted Solo’s arm and he grunted. “Whatsh up, babe?”

Babe. The way he said it made her go mushy inside for a second, before the nerve endings in her bladder made her shoot out of bed.

“I need a pee,” she hissed. “Do you think Carts is home?”

“Dunno. Does it matter?” He rolled over, and even in her state of desperation she could appreciate the play of his pecs and biceps, his long legs, and the hand flung across his eyes. She cast an eye around for something to cover her nakedness, spied his T-shirt on the floor and flung it over her head.

She tiptoed to the door and opened it a crack. The house was dark. Good sign. Nobody home.

Solo’s sleepy voice came from the bed. “Missing you already.”

Something in her chest tugged at the sweetness of that comment, but she shooed it away as she made her way into the bathroom.

Sitting on the toilet, she tried to think this through. Logically. Which was hard when even now the pull of that gorgeous bod in the narrow little bed was like the gravitational force of an entire planetary system.

How could it have been this good? Feel this intimate? Truth was, despite her once-love of Tinder, she’d passed on the casual sex thing recently. Which was probably why when Jake ditched her—gently, but firmly—because he’d fallen in love with Lou, it had hurt more than she’d imagined.

Not because she was in love with Jake—God no, never that—but it had been warm and safe and nice.

But, here, even more significant than having her mind blown by the most amazing sex, she had the sense she was in a circle of safety. With a guy she didn’t even know.

Like they fit together.

Which, frankly, was enough to scare the crapola out of her.

It had been okay with Jake because it had started with clear rules, years ago. And despite enjoying his big-bear warmth and his ability to know which buttons to press to satisfy her, there had never been that extra zing.

But with Solo—holy cow, it was one big adrenaline rush.

And at the same time so comfortable and easy and just plain fun; he made her smile and laugh and…

Polly sank her head in her hands with a groan.

This was the problem with chemistry. You could never trust it. She’d had it big time once before, when she was sixteen. And he’d promised her the world. Shite, she’d only just been legal. When she’d followed him to Perth, she’d found out she was nothing more than a notch on his bedpost. The barely-legal virgin he’d bedded and then boasted to his mates about. What a coup. And the biggest humiliation of her life.

She rubbed her forehead as a tight band started to form over her eyes.

Oh yeah, she’d learned the lesson; from the way Dad treated Mum, from her first love: all men were bastards. She’d vowed she’d never let herself trust one again.

And she’d stuck to that rule through thick and thin.

Maybe Alice was right. Maybe it was just her ovaries, all those little eggs dancing up and down and squealing for attention as she nose-dived towards thirty.

She shook her head and refused to meet her own eyes in the mirror as she washed her hands.

As she flicked the lock and tiptoed onto the narrow landing, she heard a loud thump coming from the stairwell. Heart pounding, Polly clutched at the material of Solo’s T-shirt over her chest, fearing that he might have done some weird sleep-walking thing and fallen down the stairs. She tiptoed to the banister and peered over.

A long skinny body was crumpled against the wall, halfway down the stairs. “Fuck,” it muttered, followed by a weird kind of caterpillar walk up a couple of stairs. Then, as if it was all too hard, the figure slithered in a jumble of arms and legs to the bottom of the stairs.

In a heartbeat, the carer in Polly was down those stairs and leaning over him. “Carts!”

Carts lifted his head and two bleary eyes stared back at her. A hand came out and put a finger to his lips. “Shhhhhhhtttttt, you’ll wake everyone up,” he muttered. Then, in some deep recess of his alcohol-addled brain, something registered and his eyes focussed. “Poll, is that you?”

Oh God, here she was in nothing but Solo’s T-shirt, which barely skimmed the top of her thighs. Her choices were limited: a) Leave Carts to fend for himself, possibly to incur hideous consequences from a night crumpled at the bottom of the stairs, or b) Help him to safety and risk him recalling her semi-naked presence in his house, therefore deducing the obvious.

Summoning her professional skills, Polly did a lightning-fast risk assessment and concluded that Carts, who had now buried his head in the crook of one elbow and was gently snoring, would likely not remember her presence. The most humane choice, therefore, was to get him comfortable and then brief Solo not to let on.

After which she would run.

Crouching down, careful to keep her bits out of view, she hoisted an arm under his shoulder. “Come on, sofa for you.”

Somehow, she managed to drag a grumbling, partially compliant Carts into the front room, where he draped himself over the sofa like a human hammock, legs sticking out over one end, head dangling off the other. Polly shoved a couple of pillows under his neck and removed his shoes. He had his jacket on and it was a warm night, so she decided against searching for a blanket.

Carts waved a hand in her general direction. “Fanks, Poll.”

She crept closer and muttered in his ear. “I’m not Polly. And you never saw me, okay?”

“Okay.” And then the snoring started up again.

Polly darted out of the room and up the stairs. When she got into Solo’s room he was sitting up in bed.

“What was all that noise?” he asked, rubbing at his hair, which made him look so damn cute.

She grimaced. “Carts is home, pissed as a fart.”

“Oh.” He grinned. “Did he see you?” He didn’t look at all perturbed. But she was.

Ripping off Solo’s T-shirt, she shimmied into her bra and panties.

“You’re not going, are you?” The edge of disappointment in his voice was obvious.

“I had to help him onto the sofa and he recognised me—wearing nothing but your T-shirt.”

“So?”

“So, I don’t want him to know I was here.”

“Would it matter?”

Polly looked around for her little black dress on the ground. “I don’t know. Yeah, probably.”

“Why?”

“I like to keep my dates right away from my life.”

His eyes rested on her, luminous and steady. “Why?”

“Just because.” She glanced at him as she grabbed her dress. “Avoids complications.” She pulled the dress over her head and zipped it up.

He was sitting up, clasping his knees, the sheet lightly covering his groin, and she couldn’t help her eyes darting to the defined six-pack, the little v of dark hair.

Polly gulped and floundered around for her shoes.

Suddenly he was up and padding towards her and the tightness in her throat nearly strangled her.

She didn’t move—couldn’t—her heart pounding as his animal scent and the warmth of his body enveloped her. Something about the ease he displayed in his nakedness and the fact that she was now fully dressed was screamingly erotic.

It was hard not to turn around and beg him to unzip her.

A muscle worked in Solo’s jaw and when he stroked his thumb along her jawline, she heard her own breath rasping hot at the back of her throat.

“Sorry if I’m a complication in your life,” he murmured, and as if there was an invisible thread between them, she raised her face to his and felt his lips brush hers. “But, for the record,” he whispered against her mouth, “complicating your life was worth every amazing second.”

How she longed to jump right back into that bed and forget anything else existed but her and him. Just for one night. Except in the morning, she’d still have to navigate past Carts.

She gave a tight little smirk as she pulled away. “Just remember, I was never here, okay?”

And then, grabbing her bag with her car keys and shoes, she exited the room without another glance.