Page 117 of Darcy
I can’t. Because Prophet is holding me up by my hips, keeping me in place as he wrecks me. My lips are spilling wordless mumbling praises, but I can’t hear any of them over the harsh animal grunts of his breath as he chases our pleasure.
“Come for me,” he pants. “Come on, angel. Show me what it feels like when you break apart on my dick.”
I can’t deny him anything.
My body trembles, and my toes curl as heat explodes out in a rush. Every muscle in my body clenches.
“Fuck. Darcy.” He chokes out my name a second before his dick jerks, triggering a second, smaller orgasm.
He rolls the two of us until I’m splayed out with my back to his chest. The motion jostles the plug and makes me moan.
“So perfect,” he croons in my ear, pressing a kiss to my throat. “I don’t know how I ever thought I could live without you, but I swear, I’m going to make it up to you every day for the rest of our lives.”
He may have taken me roughly, but he’s gentle when it comes to cleaning our mess up. I fall asleep, warm and pampered, with him wrapped around me like my own muscled blanket.
Thirty-Eight
Darcy
It’s time.
I sneak down into the rooms beneath the arena, carrying a backpack crammed with everything I need. I smuggled most of the explosives into the cage yesterday, so the only things I’m carrying are my drones, bots, a few grenades, and my emergency C-4. My phone—my greatest weapon—is in my hand, and I swipe my thumb absently over the screen as I think through the talk I had with the band and Emma this morning.
Needless to say, none of my guys were impressed with the idea of leaving me alone, or me putting more trackers on their phones. Eventually—after a lot of arguing—Emma and I managed to convince them it would be safer for me if I didn’t have to worry about the boys getting in the way.
I have to be free to spy on the Rosales brothers’ meetings without worrying that they’ll turn up on the boat unexpectedly, like they did at the villa. I also need to be able to warn them of a change of plans, which is why I’ve also rigged an alert that will connect to the radio frequency of their in-ear monitors while they’re on stage if there’s an emergency.
Miguel is losing it. That makes him unpredictable. Having several contingency plans in place is just common sense.
First though, I need to see what’s going on in the brothers’ meeting, which started just a few minutes ago. And I have to do it without neglecting my job as a pyro. My phone buzzes, and I quickly swipe to see the live feed from the stage, check where the band is standing, then set off a waterfall of sparks, before returning to my current task, planting my own cameras.
Unfortunately, Miguel’s goons are everywhere in the warren of tunnels beneath the arena. The increased security is likely due to his brothers’ presence, and they’re probably on the look out for more bots.
Fortunately, I have the arena’s schematics on my phone. I can sneak my bots through the vent connecting an unused room to the one where the meeting is taking place. I just have to get there first.
I turn a corner and come face to face with none other than the head of security himself: Jackson.
Shit.
“Oh, thank goodness.” I grin, trying to make the expression as genuine as possible, despite the dread eating me up from the inside. “I was trying to find you. I have a lot of experience with burns, and I just wanted to make sure—”
“For the last time, I’m fine,” he snarls, shoulder-checking me as he strides past. “Don’t you have some actual work to do?”
I count to three, pretending to be frozen with shock at his rudeness, when in reality I just really want to turn and put a bullet through his eyes. The second his footsteps are gone, I roll my eyes and continue walking.
He’s so lucky he’s not my target. I won’t be sad if he ends up on the boat when it goes up in flames.
The room I want should be right… here!
Checking both ends of the corridors to make sure that no one is watching, I twist the handle and slip inside, closing the door behind me. At one point, this was clearly some kind of function room, but currently it’s empty. The chairs and tables have been stacked up against one wall, leaving the vent visible and easy to access.
Prying the cover away from the wall takes a while, and I have to stop twice to set off more pyros upstairs. When I’m done, it’s a simple matter of guiding my little bot through a straight vent, using the little laser Tabby gave it to shear through the bolts on the other side, and then…
Voila. I’m in.
This time, I’m not getting caught. I sneak my way through the room, hiding in shadows as I try to get a good angle on what’s going on. I hit the jackpot when I find a table covered in a dust cloth that hangs low to the floor, camouflaging my bot while allowing enough room for my camera to see underneath.
The three brothers are sitting at a table in the centre of the room, swigging lazily at beer bottles as they chatter away in Spanish. So close. My fingers itch to send a bigger bot with a payload that could wipe them all out, but it’s too risky. An explosion down here could bring the entire arena down on our heads, killing dozens of the concert goers above us.
