Page 60 of Darcy
He takes a sip of his coffee and puts it back down before reaching forward to type something.
I have to lean forward for balance, or at least, that’s what I tell myself as I gently caress the velvet hardness of him. I pump once, using my thumb to swipe away the bead of pre-cum, and then bring it to my lips, experimentally.
“Fuck,” Arlo whispers, and a light rustling makes me look over the table.
He’s shifting through his sketchbook, charcoal in hand. His sunglasses have been abandoned on the table, leaving his frown of concentration visible. His blue eyes meet mine, and he winks before he looks back down.
“Eyes on me,” Dodger growls, his free hand tangling in my hair and angling my head back towards him.
“That sounded awfully possessive for a man who clearly has some exhibitionist tendencies, sir,” I tease.
“Do you really want to see what will happen if you sass me right now?”
The warning undercurrent in his voice is so, so tempting, but I also like surprising him. So, without warning, I duck my head, forgoing modesty to suck the dark head of his cock between my lips.
“¡Mierda!” Slate murmurs, and Prophet actually groans as the move treats both of them to the view of a lifetime.
Dodger says nothing, he just goes back to his spreadsheet.
So that’s his game? Fine. We’ll see how long he can ignore me. I wrap my tongue around the head of him, swirling like he’s my favourite lollipop.
I duck down again, loosening my jaw to try to take more of his curved cock. The angle I’m kneeling at makes it awkward, and I can’t go as deep as I’d like. I’m also keenly aware of the cool air against my pussy, and the way my breasts are pressing into the armrest between us as I lick and suck my way up and down his cock.
“Touch yourself,” Slate moans. “Please,chula.”
I come up for air and twist my head to look back at him. “Only if Prophet begs.”
Is it bad that I really, really want him to beg? I don’t get a chance to wait for his response, because Dodger’s hand is there again, urging me back to his erection.
“I said, eyes on me,” he scolds, before looking over my head. “Stop distracting her.”
His fingers leave my hair and caress the line of my jaw before travelling down my throat to the buttons of my dress. In a few efficient flicks, the upper half is open, and my lack of bra is exposed. The angle makes my breasts spill out and I have to resist the urge to reach up and massage away the heaviness that’s taken over them.
I draw back, tongue tracing the slit at the head and collecting more salty pre-cum, then adjust and try my best to get as much of him in my mouth as I can. The move has the added effect of making my skirt ride even higher—if that’s possible.
“Please.”
Prophet’s single word freezes me.
I’ve never heard him say it aloud before. Perhaps if I had, I would’ve been more careful about making him beg in the past. That word, growled so darkly, is rich with a promise of punishment. Of retribution. I swallow instinctively, and Dodger, still buried in my throat, groans.
“Do it,” the singer orders. “Fuck that greedy pussy with your fingers until they wish it was them fucking you.”
His hands return to my hair, keeping it out of my face, supporting me this time instead of demanding. The help allows me to release his thigh with one hand and reach back between my legs.
God, I’m so wet already, and I moan as my fingers slide over my clit, rubbing the wetness over it as I bob up and down. I tease myself for several minutes, feeling desire coil inside my veins as I wind myself and the other two men higher and higher. Finally, when I can’t take it anymore, I slide a single finger inside myself. My own silken warmth engulfs the digit before I pull it out and replace it with two more.
“Good girl,” Dodger praises. “How does it feel, knowing all four of us want to replace those fingers with our cocks?”
I hum with him caught in the back of my throat, and his fist clenches in my hair. The sting travels straight from my scalp down to where my fingers are slowly pumping into my weeping pussy, and my own walls clench hard around the two digits.
His words have triggered my imagination, and now all I can think about is someone coming up behind me, grabbing my hips, and filling me properly.
My next thrust makes me moan, and Dodger curses as the vibration goes straight to his dick.
“Up,” he orders, hands going to my shoulders as he helps me rise.
“Dude, we were enjoying that view,” Slate complains.
