Page 49 of Darcy
Neither am I.
With the last shreds of fabric gone, there’s nothing to hide him from my gaze. I tug against the belt, driven by the need to touch the lines of ink caressing his skin.
“I want my hands back,” I protest.
He pretends to think about it for a second as he rolls the latex over his hard length. “If I untie you, are you going to bounce on my cock like a good girl?”
If I nod any harder, my head might fall off. “Yes, sir.”
Dodger unbuckles the leather, rubbing my wrists gently before he twists us both until I’m settled over his hips.
Now free, I run my hands over his chest, tracing the lines of skulls and flowers as I brace myself. I reach down, pumping his cock once, then twice before fitting him to my entrance.
I can’t help my groan at the stretch, and I lift back up before I can take him any deeper.
“Fuuuuck,” he growls as I settle on him, taking him fully. “Darcy.”
I can’t move. I can’t remember how long it’s been since I felt this full. This good. I press a kiss to his lips while I wait for my body to get used to the invasion. Dodger’s taste, mixed with my own, makes me squirm until I’m grinding against him.
His hands go to my hips, helping me. When just the tip remains inside, he slams me back down, and I moan as his cock slides right over the perfect spot. Without coaxing, I repeat the motion, lifting and dropping over and over as I chase the limits of our pleasure.
Beneath me, his face is lined with pleasure. His hands roam, shifting to cup my breasts, then down to slap lightly against my ass as I ride him with reckless abandon.
“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs. “Just like that. Keep going. Good girl. Damn, you’re even better than I imagined, and I imagined a fucking lot.”
The litany of praises continues to fall from his lips, his husky tones chasing me up and over the final edge until he finishes with a roar.
I collapse. His heartbeat thunders against his ribs below me as we both try to catch our breath. He rolls me over, pressing another soft kiss to my jaw before he heads to the bathroom to deal with the condom and wash up.
It’s only after, when I’m snuggled against him, tracing the outlines of his hazardous tattoo, that everything sinks in.
Four orgasms. In one go. I didn’t even have to use a vibrator or wait until he’d left the room to finish myself off.
How long has it been since that happened? Dread settles in my stomach as I fail to recall a single guy in the last few years of disappointing relationships.
I knew this would happen. I knew I’d get attached. I should’ve told Man to send someone else, and spared our friendship. There’s only two ways this can end now: forever, or a broken heart.
My next breath is shaky, and Dodger freezes beneath me.
“What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. Just… deep thoughts.”
He presses a kiss to my forehead as my fingers leave his band tattoo and follow the chains from the blades of chaos over his shoulder and down his arm. The pad of my index finger finds another row of scars hidden beneath his ink, and I bend down to kiss them.
There are too many, and they’re too even, for these to be the remnants of anything other than self harm. He lets me explore, but his muscles are tense as I follow their path down to the flames that circle his wrists.
I don’t say anything, and he relaxes as it becomes clear I’m not going to start asking him about them.
“You know, your coffee is probably cold by now,” he murmurs, stroking his fingers through my messy hair.
“Ugh.” I don’t have the energy to be upset about it.
I freeze. “Wait, what time is it? I’m supposed to be on a plane at five—”
“We’re taking care of it,” he interrupts. “You’re flying on our jet.”
Groaning, I let my head fall back onto the pillows. “I can pay for my own flights.” Miguel will be personally reimbursing me for all my flights when I blast him into little pieces and wipe his accounts.
