16. Chapter 15
Beck
The lock clicks and the blind snaps down.
Darcy Madden spins on the spot, straightens her shoulders and crosses her own fucking office like she's been doing this her whole life.
This is the first thing that's felt simple all fucking day.
This morning, I spent an hour watching my mistake from every camera angle known to man while everybody picked apart what I should've done differently.
Fair enough. I fucked up.
What I didn't enjoy was hearing someone call it a classic Beck play, like one shitty decision somehow explains everything there is to know about me.
But Darcy doesn't look at me like I'm the guy who cost us the game.
She just looks at me like I'm Beck. Like she wants me around. She enjoys having me here, no matter how many mistakes I make.
She stops between my legs, drops to her knees on the hardwood floor, and her hands find my belt before I can even process what's happening.
God. This woman is fucking addictive.
I catch her wrists as she jostles my belt buckle, loosening it from around my waist.
"Hey."
She looks up at me. Those dark eyes are wide, pupils blown, lips parted and already waiting. She's so fucking sexy.
"This okay?" I look down my body at her. "Me talking to you like this?"
After this morning, the last fucking thing I want is to become another person telling someone who they're supposed to be. If Darcy wants this, I'll give her everything she's asking for. But I need it to be her asking.
Lucky for me, she nods without hesitation. No analysis. Just a woman who, after last night, might finally know exactly what she wants.
Her fingers work my belt buckle open, and I shift back in the chair, giving her room to move. She reaches into my jeans with both hands and the heat of her palms wraps around my cock as she pulls me out.
"Fuck, I've been thinking about this all day." I hiss through my teeth as she slides a warm hand up and down my shaft. "Been thinking about you."
She leans in without a word, sliding her tongue out to touch the tip first. It's a soft, exploratory lick that makes my hips twitch with need. Then she opens her mouth and takes me deeper, her tongue sliding along the underside in one long, slow stroke from tip to base.
I groan as she cups my balls with her free hand, rolling them gently while her mouth works its way back up.
I tangle my fingers in her hair. God, her hair. That perfect, sleek hairstyle I've been dying to ruin since the first time she walked into my life with that damn death sentence.
Her eyes meet mine.
And I think… fuck. One night was never going to be enough of this woman.
Hell.
One lifetime might not be enough.
She takes me deeper as her throat opens, and I feel the back of it, the tight, wet heat as she swallows around me. A gag catches in her throat, and she doesn't pull back. She pushes through it, her nose brushing my stomach, choking on my cock in her office like a good fucking girl.
"Look at you," I grunt, holding her hair back so I can watch every inch of her mouth working me. "Taking me so deep. You like this, don't you? You like being on your knees for me."
She moans around me. The vibration travels straight through my spine.
"That's it. Keep going."
Her head bobs faster. Wet sounds fill the office, her mouth working, her breathing ragged, my own groans getting louder than they should.
I feel that familiar pressure building at the base of my spine, and I don't want this to end, but I also want to watch her swallow every drop.
She sucks me off with one long, slow pull. Her lips seal tight at the tip, and she releases me with a pop that echoes off the walls.
"So good. So fucking good."
She looks up at me, hand still attached, swirling her palm around the tip. So good. Her lips are swollen. Her mascara has smudged.
She looks wrecked in the best possible way.
"You're fucking beautiful, Darcy."
I grab her throat as she stares into my eyes. No fear. No hesitation. Just trust.
My thumb finds her pulse, hammering against my skin.
Looking down at her like this, I want to ask her.
I want to ask her what she knows. About the trade deadline. About the teams circling like sharks in my waters.
This woman can't just be another person deciding my life for me. Because the truth is… I'm tired. I'm done being the pushover.
Classic Beck play.
The words have been irritating the shit out of me all day, and suddenly I understand why.
Yes. I made the mistake. I fucking owned it by showing up here today with my head still held fucking high. I watched the footage, took the criticism, and I'll try my damn best to make damn sure I don't do it again.
But that one moment shouldn't define me.
It isn't who I am.
I'm falling for this woman, and if that's teaching me anything, it's that I'm ready to take control of my own damn life. For too long, I've been led in the direction of whatever other people think I should be doing.
Play for this team, Beck. Come to Beachside, Beck. Do this, Beck.
But now, with this woman in my arms, laying there last night, looking down at her right fucking now…
I'm done with that.
So instead of asking, I pull her up.
"Come here," I growl, her hand releasing my throbbing cock. "Bend over for me, baby. I need to see that pretty pussy of yours."
She comes willingly, gasping as I spin her around and bend her over her own desk, my hand coming down over her ass with a firm spank.
"Oh!"
She cries out as her palms hit the surface, her ass waggling right before my hungry eyes. Moving closer, I yank her trousers down her thighs in one rough motion, grabbing her wrists and pinning her hands behind her back with one of mine.
"You like this, baby? You like me taking control?"
She waggles her ass at me. "Yes."
She bends deeper. A whimper escapes her lips.
I'm not even touching her yet, and she's already moaning.
I chuckle at the sight. A bright blue G-string is practically glowing against her skin. I hook my fingers under the fabric and tear, the snap echoing as she gasps.
"Who would have thought? A perfect society girl like's being taken care of like this."
I spread her cheeks with both hands, and I don't think. I just bend and drag my tongue up her entire ass in one clean, filthy swipe. Tasting both holes. Her whole body trembles against my mouth, so I keep licking as her hand shifts behind her to hold my face right there.
"Oh… Beck…"
My tongue works her in long, flat strokes, alternating between her ass and her pussy like she's a tasting menu and I'm the hungriest motherfucker in the room. She presses back against my face, grinding, and I dig in deeper.
My chin drips with her arousal, so I swipe at it with my hand and rub it all over my cock.
"God, you taste good," I mumble against her skin. "Best I've ever had. You know that?"
She moans breathlessly, then cries out when I bite her ass cheek.
I pull back just enough to watch my mark bloom across her skin. Then I bring my palm down again, harder this time, and she bucks against me.
"Fuck, yes," she gasps. "More. More!"
I rise as blood pounds through every vessel, gathering at my cock, which stands angry and needy between us. I grab myself, lining up without warning. Just the head, teasing her entrance, letting her feel what's coming.
"Look at me," I command, grabbing a fistful of hair.
She twists her neck, and our eyes lock.
"I want you to watch what you do to me."
Her answer is a whimper and a push backward. I line myself up. She's ready—God, she's so ready—and I push into her in one deep stroke.
Her back arches and that sweet mouth falls open as I fuck her hard and fast. Instantly, the desk moves and squeaks beneath us. Papers scatter everywhere, probably papers with my fucking name on them.
My hands grip her hips hard enough to bruise, and I don't care, because she's taking everything I'm giving and asking for more.
"Take it," I growl. "Take all of it."
Her body clenches around me, and I feel myself getting close faster than I wanted. I pull out before I can finish, spin her around, and take myself in my hand. Darcy watches me stroke my cock twice, three times, and then I'm coming down her throat, watching her catch every last drop.
And then it's over.
The room goes quiet except for our breathing.
I lift her up. She's shaking, or maybe I am, and I pull her against my chest, wrap my arms around her, and just hold on.
She buries her face in my neck. Her fingers curl into my shirt.
And I don't say anything. I don't make a joke. I don't ask about the trade deadline or any of the things I should be asking.
I just hold her.
And slowly, with her warm body tucked against mine and her fingers curled into my shirt, I feel the tension finally bleed out of me for the first time since I walked into this building this morning.
My breathing settles. My muscles unclench.
Even that fucking knot between my shoulders that's been there since somebody froze my bad pass on a sixty-foot screen this morning seems to disappear beneath the weight of her against my chest.
That's when it hits me.
I didn't come here because I needed a release.
I came here because I needed Darcy.
"We destroyed your office," I murmur into her hair.
She lifts her head from my chest and surveys the damage. Papers are fanned out across the floor everywhere. Her desk chair is shoved into the filing cabinet on the back wall, and a bright pink pen cup on its side, rolling lazily toward the edge.
"You destroyed my underwear."
"That was already happening before I got involved. That G-string was barely surviving on its own."
She swats my chest, but she's smiling. I catch her hand before she can pull it away and press my mouth to her knuckles.
She watches me do it, then Darcy Madden does what Darcy Madden always does. What her parents taught her to do. What's expected of her.
She straightens up.
She tugs her trousers back into place, smooths her blouse, and tucks her hair behind both ears like she's resetting a clock. I lean against the desk and watch her work, arms crossed, grinning like the idiot I absolutely am.