Page 61 of Darcy
He turns me around, shoving the armrest up and out of the way as he pulls me down until I’m sitting on his lap. “Tough. This is my quickie.”
I open my mouth to tell him that this most definitely does not qualify as a quickie, only to snap it closed as the head of his dick prods insistently at my opening. I reach down and adjust him, fitting him against me and letting gravity do the rest of the work.
God. Yes.
My head falls back and lands on his shoulder, my lips parting in a silent gasp as I sink down onto his cock. My shirt dress falls open, and Dodger wastes no time in undoing the final few buttons hiding my body, but I can’t think about the view Arlo is getting. I’m too busy trying to adjust to the intensity of this angle.
“Shh, that’s it,” Dodger croons. “You just stay there.”
Then, to my absolute astonishment, he goes back to work on his laptop. His arm wrapped around my waist keeps me from moving, and I suck in a breath as I grind down, but find no relief.
“Dodger,” I complain, hand falling down to touch my clit.
“Ah ah ah,” he chides, moving my hand away. “Sit there, keep me warm, and when I’m done, I’ll get us both off.”
What? He can’t be serious? Every cell in my body cries out, begging for movement. For friction. For any kind of stimulation. My need is a pulse that ricochets out from my core with every heartbeat, and I squirm.
I can’t thrust, not really, but every shift of his body inside mine causes tiny fireworks to flitter along my nerves. I’ve got to be making a puddle of wetness on his jeans, but he doesn’t seem to care.
“Sir, I really, really want you to fuck me now,” I whine.
“Stay still, baby girl,” he tuts. “Can’t you see Lo’s trying to draw over there? Do you want to fuck up his masterpiece?”
True enough, Arlo is sketching away like a madman, flicking heated looks over the top of his book every few seconds. His fingers are dark with charcoal, and every so often his tongue darts out, getting trapped between his teeth as he concentrates.
“Stay put. When he’s done, I’ll fuck your wet cunt until you scream.”
In answer, I reach up and cup one of my own breasts, playing with my nipple using my finger and thumb.
“Hurry up.”
But neither Dodger nor Arlo seem in any rush. I half expect, given that Dodger’s focus seems so consumed by his spreadsheets, that he’ll go soft and slip out of me, but he never does. Even my attempts to spur him on, clenching my muscles around his girth and grinding my ass against him, do nothing to break his iron control.
Every now and again, the hand around my waist sneaks down, smearing my wetness across my clit. He stops whenever I get close enough that I can practically taste my own orgasm approaching. Leaving me squirming and moaning with need. Toying with me.
Edging me.
I’ve never had a boyfriend who could actually do it, and I’m honestly beginning to hate it.
“I swear to God,” I pant, grinding down on him as he withdraws his hand for the sixth time. “If you don’t fuck me soon, I’m going to rip your balls off.”
His hand lifts from my clit to collar my throat, holding me still against his chest. “Want to say that again, baby girl?”
Slate chuckles. “If she’s coherent enough to make threats, you’re not doing the job right.”
“Fuck you,” Dodger groans, without heat. “You have no idea how fucking good she feels. Being inside her is a fucking spiritual experience. She’s so damned wet. She’s scorching my dick.”
Not as unaffected as he appears.The thought makes me smile.
A throat clearing draws my focus back to Arlo. He’s turned his sketchbook around on the table, and staring back at me is a two-page spread of my own body splayed over Dodger’s. He’s captured me with my eyes closed and my head limply resting against Dodger’s shoulder. The style is instantly familiar, and my eyes snap up to look at him, mouth open with a gasp of surprise.
“Youdid those paintings in the gallery,” I accuse, breath hitching as Dodger’s thumb strokes the line of my jaw.
Arlo’s shy, delighted grin lights up his face. “You caught me.”
Dodger, evidently unimpressed with the distraction, shuts his laptop. Both of his hands move to my waist, and my breath catches as his shift causes his dick to jerk inside me.
“Lean forward,” he says. “Bend over the table so Arlo can kiss you while I fuck this needy cunt.”
