15. Darcy
Chapter 15
Darcy
P LEASE EXPLAIN TO me why I’ve spent the entire weekend not chasing after Mr. Hall like a woman obsessed. I should, right? The man let me ride him like a fucking horse until I came, for God’s sake. But I didn’t. Instead of attempting to glue myself to his side like a barnacle, I spent Saturday at the hardware store, sorting through what felt like a billion pounds of paperwork and showing Dad, yet again, how to use the accounting software. I swear, the man’s learned incompetence is going to send me to an early grave.
“You’re better at it,” he’d protested.
“Yeah, well, it’s your store, Dad,” I reminded him.
I extracted what felt like a blood oath from him to do better, and by Sunday, I was exhausted. The thought of seeing Anthony at yoga was almost enough to get me to go, but something told me his appearance might have been a onetime thing, anyway.
By the time Monday morning rolls around, I’ve decided I need the coldest, frothiest coffee around, along with a chocolate croissant, to really get my day started off right. With a smirk, I pull out my phone and type a message to Anthony.
I’ll be a little late to the loft, Daddy. Grabbing some coffee.
The message immediately shows as read, but he doesn’t respond, which makes me laugh. Because of course he doesn’t.
I’m waiting in the line for my coffee when someone calls my name. I turn, and it’s my ex. “Jason.”
He smiles, and his eyes take a leisurely stroll over my body like they have a right to. It makes my skin crawl. We ended things on good terms, but I’m not a fan of being looked at as though I exist purely for a man’s gaze.
Surprising no one, really.
“Eyes up here,” I snap.
His grin gets broader. “Sassy as always,” he chuckles. “How are you?”
I don’t bother answering. Somehow, having the word sassy be a descriptor of me come out of his mouth is yet another thing I don’t like. Still, the guy’s around town, and this isn’t exactly a booming metropolis. Shoving down the urge to tell him to keep his eyes and mouth shut, I aim for common ground. “You still at the library?”
He nods, standing straighter, and when he speaks, there’s a tinge of…whining, almost? “Of course. I’d be head librarian if it weren’t for old Mr. Stringer.”
I force my face to remain neutral, and boy howdy, is it hard. I fucking love Mr. Stringer. He was single-handedly responsible for my love of reading, not that I have much time to do it right now. He’d realized early on that I wasn’t the fluffy book kind of girl and immediately had me flying through action and adventure books, then murder mysteries and spy stories. It’s entirely possible I wasn’t old enough for some of the novels he gave me, but what’s wrong with reading about a dead body now and then?
“He’s still there, huh?” I say instead.
Jason’s face pinches. “Says he’s got another few years in him.” He straightens one arm and adjusts the fit of his button-down, far too starchy for the humidity of the day outside. “Anyway.” He pauses and takes a breath, seeming to steel himself for the next part. “Would you, ah, be interested in maybe meeting for coffee or something?”
I bark out a laugh. “No.” There isn’t even a remote possibility I’m interested in this man. He’s nothing I want, and all this conversation is doing is proving that he has some serious work to do on himself. Even if he did, someone like him would never satisfy me. For that matter, Jason never satisfied me, anyway. Seems I’m destined to want a broody, grumpy bartender instead.
Jason looks shocked. “Really? I thought?—”
“Darcy!” The barista calls my name, and I turn without another word to grab my drink and croissant.
“Yeah, like I said—no thanks.” And because I can’t help myself, I look him straight in the eye as I take a giant slurp of my drink, then close the distance between us to give him a condescending pat on the head as I leave. “Good luck.”
Not gonna lie, the whole interaction puts a little pep in my step.
I’m late enough that Anthony is already downstairs, his back to me as I let myself in, the open door sending a streak of early-morning sun into the dimly lit arcade. He shifts, looking my way, but he’s far enough away that I can’t tell what his expression is.
“Good morning,” I call out.
He nods, a simple jerk of his head, and says nothing.
Standard. It’s standard behavior and yet it irritates the crap out of me. The man dug his fingers into my thighs so hard they left little bruises, and all he does is jerk his head down in a silent hello.
Ugh. Whatever. I’m still in a good mood and he can’t take that from me. With another hearty slug of my coffee, I head upstairs and get to work.
Lunch comes and goes, and no sign of Anthony. I eat my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, not happy about the lack of the man, but also fully aware that we’re in the thick of summer. He’s probably dealing with shrieking kids and exasperated moms—a combination so heinous that I frankly have no idea how he deals with it.
A little before four, I’ve done as much I’m going to do and flop onto the couch I have plans to replace. At four on the dot, the door opens.
I rise from the couch and stare at him.
He stares back.
“Where have you been?”
His brow furrows. “Working.” He strides to the kitchen and pulls a jug of water out of the fridge, pouring some in a fresh glass and looking up at me with a question in his eyes as I enter. When I shake my head, he puts the water back in the fridge and picks up his glass, downing the liquid in a few gulps.
I watch him, silent, and wonder how is it that even his Adam’s apple is sexy. Suddenly, even him drinking water is enough to get me going.
“Where were you?” He pins me with an unreadable expression.
“Working,” I shoot back. “Where else would I have been?” This game sucks. I push off the door—which is trimmed beautifully, I might add—and close the distance to him.
He evades me, shifting past and leaving the kitchen to go back into the bigger space. I swear I hear him chuckle as he does it, but that’s probably because of the growl that issues from my throat.
“Anthony.” I follow him. No way does he get to ignore me.
He turns, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Darcy.”
Heat spears through me at the way he says my name. It’s part warning, part desire, and one hundred percent my undoing. So. Fuck it. I’m laying my cards on the table. “I want you. Maybe the women you’re used to aren’t this straightforward?—”
He huffs, the faintest grin tipping his lips. “Oh, trust me. There is no one on earth like you, Darcy.”
Heat warms my chest at the praise, whether he intended it or not. “I want this. Whatever this is,” I gesture between us, “I want it.”
His eyes shutter. “You don’t. What happened on the beach was?—”
I point at him. “I swear to God, Anthony, if you say it was a mistake, I will throttle you. Because it was as far from a mistake as humanly possible.”
“It wasn’t a mistake, exactly. But it?—”
“ And if you say it shouldn’t have happened, that will also earn you a throttling.” I step toward him. “Quit this. Quit all of it.”
He stands his ground. “And what is it I’m quitting, exactly?”
Another step. “This ridiculous sense of what’s right and wrong. That you have decided all on your own, by the way. I have no problem with it.”
He opens his mouth to protest, then wisely shuts it.
I’m so close I can feel the heat of him now. “Because this?” I palm his chest, and it takes everything in me not to moan at how firm it is. “This is most definitely right.”
He backs up. Stupid man. I follow, still touching him. Yet another step, another follow, until his back presses against the brick. His heart pounds beneath my palm, and I think it might be possible that—for a moment, at least—I’m the one in charge.
“I’ll say it again,” I tell him, keeping one hand on his chest and lifting the other to the top of my overalls. “I want you. I want this. Whatever it is, whatever it can be, it’s what I want. I’m a grown woman, Anthony. Let me prove it to you.” I unhook one side of the metal clasps, then the other, and the top falls down, revealing the white crop top I’m in.
His eyes darken, and beneath my palm, his heart speeds up. “Darcy.” Suddenly, my name on his lips sounds like a warning.
I lift my brows. “Yes?”
He’s deadly calm. “You have one chance to leave. One. You can walk away, and I’ll pretend this never happened.”
I open my mouth to protest his words, but he places a rough finger on my lips.
“This is the last time I’m going to say it. Do you understand me? Because if you stay—if you let those fucking overalls fall to the ground—you’re mine. No one else’s. For as long as I want you. Mine .”
A breath escapes me, shaky with terror and relief. Terror because he’s dead serious. Relief for the same reason. There’s nothing but determination in his hazel eyes, the gold flecks flashing.
He removes his finger. “Make your choice, Darcy.”
I don’t hesitate. “There has never been any choice except the one that leads to you.” With that, I release the overalls.
On a groan, he snaps, pulling me to him in a rough embrace that feels more like he’s holding onto a life raft than anything. His mouth slants over mine, and I open for him, ready for whatever he wants. He controls the kiss the same as he controlled it on the beach: a sensual determination that speaks of experience. Of desire. Of everything I have always wanted, and am quickly realizing I have never truly experienced.
“Shirt off,” I murmur around his lips.
He breaks our kiss long enough to pull the fabric over his head, and I drink in the sight of him. The massive expanse of skin, the colorful, chaotic ink that decorates it, the dusting of hair that he doesn’t shave. I press my lips to his chest, breathing in his scent—something woodsy, but also distinctly Anthony —and following it with kisses.
He allows it for all of three seconds before he’s lifting me into his arms and taking me to the bedroom.
“There’s a whole loft out there, and you’re taking me in here?” I tease.
“Trust me, you’re going to want to lie down for this.” He looks down at me as he says it, an expression of cockiness and lust heavy on his face.
In the bedroom, he doesn’t bother shutting the door, but he holds me while he toes off his shoes. And when he lays me on the bed, it’s gentle, almost sweet. Then he speaks, and all bets fly out the window.
“Are you on birth control?”
“IUD.” Where is he going with this?
“When was the last time you had a partner? Tested?”
My lips quirk up. “It’s been over a year, and I was tested a couple of months ago at my annual appointment. Why?”
He reaches down and yanks the overalls the rest of the way off, along with my socks and boots. His eyes travel hungrily over me, taking in the cotton briefs and tank top. I’ve never felt sexy in this kind of outfit, exactly, but under his gaze, I’m beginning to see what that might feel like.
“Because I’m going to fuck you bare, and I’m going to fill up that pretty cunt of yours with my cum. And it’s going to stay there.”
I blink. “What?”
“You heard me,” he growls. “Take off your tank top.”
I obey, still trying to wrap my head around what he just said.
Silently, he undoes his pants and lets them fall, then removes his socks. He stands before me in black boxer briefs, his cock straining against the cotton fabric, and his thighs flex as he watches me.
“You are such a fucking specimen,” I whisper.
“Sit up and take off your bra,” he says in response.
I do as he commands. “Are we not going to talk about what you just said?”
His brows knit. “Which part?”
“The part where you said you were going to?—”
“Fuck you bare and fill you with my cum?”
Holy shit. My cheeks heat. Suddenly, I feel every bit of my age. I thought I was experienced, but maybe not.
His answering smirk is dark. Dangerous. As if all this was only a matter of time, and now that he’d been unleashed, my world would never be the same. “It’s what’s going to happen. I’m clean. You’re clean. You’re on birth control. You’ll take my cum in your pussy and you’ll like it.” He places a knee on the mattress, his gaze almost feral. “Trust me, sweetheart—I’m only getting started. Just remember that you said yes.”
I nod. I know implicitly that he’d back off if I said so. But no way am I slowing this train down. “Okay.”
“Now, take off your bra. I want to see those tits,” he commands.
I pretty much never wear a real bra, so it’s a sports bra. And I have never felt less sexy than the next few seconds it takes to pull it off over my head. I rethink everything—how I should have waited to do this until after I’d had a shower. How I should have worn a real bra, for fuck’s sake.
But all my doubts fall out of my head when I see the way he looks at me.
He runs his hand over his face, stroking his beard. “Damn, honey. You’ve been hiding those from me.”
I laugh nervously, unsure of how to respond.
His eyes meet mine. “They’re beautiful. Big and bold, with a little bit of softness in just the right spot. Just like the rest of you.”
Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d hear a man wax poetic about my breasts. But not only has it happened, but it’s Anthony Hall who’s said it. I fucking swoon.
He smirks. “ I’ll be worshipping those soon enough. Lose the panties. Let me see that pussy.”
“You first.” I don’t know where the burst of bravery comes from, and I don’t care. I’m just glad it’s shown up.
His eyes twinkle. “You wanna see what I’m working with, Little Girl?”
I nod, my mouth dry.
“Eyes on my cock, then.” He issues the demand, then slides the fabric off.
Oh, fuck . “Jesus.”
“The name is Anthony. If you call anyone’s name, it’s mine.” Then he chuckles darkly. “Or Daddy, of course.”
I nod mutely. He’s fucking huge. I mean, his whole body is huge, and I’d figured he’d be… big …but this is a whole other level of big. His hand grabs a hold of the shaft, wrapping his fingers around it and giving it a pump. I swallow. I might whimper, I don’t know.
“Now, take your panties off.” His voice is gruff, as though he’s making an effort to speak.
And when I look up, sure enough, everything in his expression tells me he’s doing everything he can to control himself. The cords of his neck strain, his shoulders are taut, and his entire body seems primed to attack.
Immediately I go hot, my already heated core going molten with desire. It’s me he wants to attack.
I tuck my fingers into the pale pink cotton fabric and raise my hips to slide them down, watching his face the entire time. His jaw is clenched, and his eyes never leave my body. When I discard them, he speaks.
“Spread your legs, Darcy. Show me what I get to taste.”
My God, this man. Pulse racing, my breath coming in pants, I let my knees fall apart.
It’s terrifying. In all my times with other men, none have lingered on any part of me. Sex has been simply serviceable. With the exception of that night on the beach, I’ve never come except by my own ministrations, and no one has actually done what he seems primed to do.
“Look at you,” he says. “So beautiful. Wet and glistening, just for me.” His eyes roam lazily from my core up to my breasts before meeting my eyes. “I bet you taste as good as you smell.”
I hitch a breath, not knowing how to act or what to say.
He growls, the sound one of deep satisfaction as he puts his other knee on the bed and lowers down, crawling to me on the mattress. I clench my fists as he moves slowly, his eyes surveying every inch of me as he moves.
My thoughts spiral. I should have shaved my legs. When was the last time I trimmed my pussy? This was a bad idea. I’m out of my league.
“Tell me something.”
His words snap me back to reality. To the fact of him hovering above me, his hazel eyes searching my face as his immense body blocks out the light. A lock of brown hair flops over his forehead, giving him a rakish look. “Is there anything you like or don’t like?” The tone is gentle, probing.
How in the ever-loving hell would I know the answer to that?
He frowns slightly. “Darcy?”
“I—I don’t know,” I finally answer. “No one’s ever asked, and I…”
The smile he gives is dazzling, throwing me completely off-guard. “Then I guess I’m the lucky bastard who gets to find out.” He lowers himself down to me, and I nearly pass out at the feel of him, the weight of his body on top of mine, at the hardness of his hips and cock nestled against my soft curves.
“Promise me you’ll tell me if you don’t like something,” he presses.
I nod, wrapping my arms around his back. “I promise.”
He takes my mouth with his own, his tongue controlling every stroke, heating me back up from the momentary detour my own thoughts had led me down. His hand clasps my breast and squeezes, and I moan as his lips trail a hot, open-mouthed path down my neck and to my other breast. His mouth closes over my nipple, and I arch into him, writhing at the sensations flooding my body.
His hips thrust gently between my legs, and I scrape my nails down his back, thrilling at the answering hum he gives in response. In no time, we’re a tangled mess of mouths and limbs, stroking, squeezing, moaning.
He slides down my chest and belly, kissing, touching, learning my curves with an enthusiasm I have never felt. When his head is between my thighs, his eyes close and he breathes me in. “You smell so fucking good, Darcy.”
I squirm, caught between discomfort and embarrassment.
He catches my movements and growls, clearly unhappy with me. “Darcy.”
“Y-yes?” Why am I nervous? The man is between my legs , for crying out loud. He just told me I smelled so fucking good. Am I insane?
Pressing a warm, large hand against the inside of my thigh, he asks, “Has no one made you come like this before?”
I press my lips together. “No one…” I blow out a breath. “No one’s ever, um, been down there?”
He chuffs a laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I go cold at his tone, unsure how I’m supposed to react, but then he continues.
“You’re telling me I’m the first one to taste you? Baby.” His tone gentles, his gaze reverent as he stares at my pussy. When he lifts his eyes back to mine, they’re blown with lust, only a dark green circle visible around his pupil. His hands tighten and his voice deepens as he says, “This cunt, Darcy? It’s all mine. All. Mine. No one else’s. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
He shakes his head. “Yes, what?”
Fuck. I grip the bedsheets as a fresh wave of goosebumps flies over me. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Good girl.”
“That’s so fucking hot,” I breathe, utterly beside myself.
He bends his head down, then peers up at me from beneath heavy brows. “Relax, Little Girl. I’m going to be here a while.”
Yeah, no way. I’m going to watch as he?—
Oh.
Oh, God.
The flat of his tongue presses against my center, and he moans. Or maybe that’s me? No, we both moan. His tongue travels up, licking me from bottom to top, and my legs immediately quiver.
“Fuck, you taste good. So damn sweet.” He shifts again, wrapping one arm around my leg while the other moves to rest on my stomach.
But his tongue. Dear sweet heaven above, his tongue . I have never…just, holy fuck. My hips jerk and he hums. He moves to my clit, and I gasp as his tongue circles it, increasing the pressure and moving it around, focusing in on the exact right spot that I crave.
I thread my hands into his silky hair and tug. “Oh my God,” I whimper. “More. Do that more.”
He keeps his mouth on my clit, working it and then sucking it, my hips writhing back and forth. “There you go,” he urges. “Fuck my face, Darcy.”
Sounds I didn’t know I could make come out of me as I do just that, holding onto his hair and jerking my hips. Pleasure swirls in my core, and as his tongue and mouth work my pussy, I detonate. The pleasure courses through me, and I scream, “Anthony!”
He keeps going, working me through the orgasm until I’m a puddle on the bed. But instead of letting me recover, he rises on his knees and looks down at me, his insane cock jutting out.
Suddenly I want nothing more than to taste it. To suck him into my mouth and hear his own moans of pleasure. But when I go to move, he shakes his head. “Not yet, sweetheart. You’re going to put on fresh lipstick before you suck my cock, and I’m going to love watching you. But now I want to bury myself in that delicious pussy of yours. “
I can’t say anything, rendered speechless by his words as he lowers himself onto me, one hand tracing up my side as his head dips to take a nipple into his mouth.
“Oh my God, that feels so good,” I moan as his mouth sucks on it, his other hand squeezing the other. I can barely figure what to do with my hands, I’m so delirious with sensation, and when he lifts his head, I pull his mouth to mine, tasting myself on his tongue. It’s fucking hot.
“Now,” I whisper. “I need you. Now.”
He smirks. “Thought you’d never ask.” Rising onto his elbow, he notches himself at my entrance and pushes the head in.
It already feels different. I’ve never had anyone bare inside me.
Eyes steady on mine, he adjusts my leg to allow him better access. “You feel so good, baby. Relax. Let me in. Breathe.”
I blow out, not realizing that I was holding my breath. He pushes in another inch, and I inhale again. On my exhale, he pushes in farther.
“Almost there. You’re doing so good,” he praises.
“You’re so big,” I rasp.
“I know,” he smiles, then gently pushes a strand of hair away from my forehead before cupping my face. His thumb strokes my cheek. “You can take it. You were made just for me.”
My body goes hot again at his words, waves of goosebumps rising as I rotate my hips. The movement opens me up a little more, and his eyes go molten.
“Fuck, baby,” he grits, then, on another swirl of my hips, he thrusts all the way in.
I gasp, slamming my eyes shut at the intensity of sensations flowing around me.
“Breathe,” he reminds me.
I try. I’m so full.
“Open your eyes, gorgeous,” he coaxes.
My eyes find his, and even though his brow is furrowed, his entire body tensed with the effort of holding himself back, the sight of him is soothing. Immediately I relax and let myself sink into the mattress.
He lowers his mouth to mine for a gentle kiss. Then he raises up, his searing gaze meeting mine as he pulls out, and slams home.
I cry out, the feeling unlike anything I’ve ever experienced in my life, a riot of bliss centered low in my belly and whooshing out with every motion Anthony makes above me. I moan as his hips swirl and dip, stroking me again and again, delivering round after round of pleasure so naturally and effortlessly that I wonder why I haven’t been after a man like this for my entire sexual life.
Finally used to the size of him, I meet him thrust for thrust, watching the cords of his neck go taut with movement, nearly mindless with how good he feels.
“Play with yourself,” he commands.
My eyes snap to his. “What?”
He doesn’t stop thrusting into me. “Put your hand on your gorgeous pussy and touch yourself. Get yourself off. Because I won’t last this time. You feel way too fucking good.”
I reach down to circle my clit, and the sensation is nearly overwhelming.
“There you go,” he says. “This tight little cunt is going to come all over my cock, isn’t it? Then I’m going to fill you up.”
“Fuck,” I whine, my hips losing control as he pounds into me. “Fuck, Anthony, oh my?—”
Without warning, the orgasm slams into me, hot and bright.
Anthony growls, pistoning into me before stilling, and I feel his release as his cock moves. It’s hot and wet, and I’ve never felt anything like it.
He cups my chin and delivers a punishing kiss, sliding his hips in and out more gently now, as we both come down from the orgasms. The kiss grows softer as he relaxes, a smile crossing his lips as he pulls out of me, his cum beginning to seep out. Wordlessly, he takes two fingers and pushes the cum back inside, and my hips writhe at the pleasure his fingers deliver.
Satisfied, he rolls to the side and props his head in his hands to look at me. His gaze is gentle.
I don’t know what to do, but my only thought is to get up. When I try, he puts a hand on my wrist. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Going to the bathroom?” It comes out as a question.
“I didn’t say I was done with you.”
“But—”
His eyes narrow, but his mouth is soft as he says, “Damn, Darcy, what kind of boys have you been with before now?”
I squirm.
He sighs, and it’s so dramatic it makes me smile. “We have so much work to do. But for now, let me look at you.”
He runs his hand over my chest, cupping a breast before moving to my belly, laying his palm flat as he goes. When he gets to my hip, he squeezes and tugs, pulling me on to my side and closer to him so he can grab my ass. “Roll over.”
I obey.
“Fuck, look at that ass,” he murmurs. “Absolutely perfect. It’s going to look so good when I spank it.”
My eyes snap to his. They’re dark and dangerous.
“I told you, Darcy. We have a lot of work to do.”