18. Darcy
Chapter 18
Darcy
A FTER BOWLING, I head home. It’s still early, and as delightful as it might be to watch Anthony tend bar and ogle his ass, I have things to do. I head out to the garage, the latest order from my so-tiny-it-barely-exists business burning a hole in my brain. It’s nothing huge, but I keep reminding myself that even the biggest companies started out small.
Tonight’s order is for Devon and Aaron, and pretty straightforward. They want a Shaker-inspired table, but I’ll put a few subtle design elements in there that will make it uniquely mine: where a Shaker design is all straight lines, I’ll throw a rounded edge in there, maybe a leaf-inspired design going down the top third of the legs. Nothing that’s too intense, but enough so that when you stop to look at it, all you can think is how beautiful it is.
I throw on some Noah Kahan and set to it, donning my goggles and turning the lathe on to begin shaping one of the legs. It isn’t until I’ve sanded the piece and turned the lathe off that I realize someone is in here with me, and I turn to see none other than Anthony, watching me with that signature grumpy look of his.
What’s interesting is that at this point, I know that this is simply the way he looks when he’s studying something intently. He’s not mad or even grumpy, exactly; he’s simply observing.
“Hey, Mr. Hall,” I grin over at him and nestle my goggles on the top of my head.
He stays where he is, propped against the garage opening with his arms crossed over his massive chest. His hazel eyes study me. “Hi.”
My lips lift. “What brings you to my side of the world?”
“A guy can’t come over to see you without getting the third degree?”
I snort. “One question does not the third degree make.”
He shrugs and lets that one movement tell me everything he thinks about my statement. After a moment, he continues, “What are you making?”
“A table.” I glance back at the lathe before meeting his assessing gaze again. “Working on one of the legs, but I don’t think I got it right. I’ll try again tomorrow.” I was going to try again tonight, but Anthony being here is far more interesting.
He steps into the garage, clearly wanting my permission to get closer. I motion him over, hoping he doesn’t ask what’s under the enormous sheet. Because that’s his, and I’m nowhere near ready for him to see it yet. Hell, I’m not ready for him to even know what it is.
“Looks perfect to me,” he says now, looking down at the length of oak held in the lathe’s bracings.
“Of course it looks perfect to you,” I joke. “You don’t know what you’re looking at.” As the words leave my mouth, I think that maybe I shouldn’t have been so cavalier.
He isn’t fazed. “You’re right,” he admits. “It’s impressive. Whether you got it right is something only you’d know.”
“Oh, anyone would know once all four legs were on the table,” I point out. “Trust me.”
He looks at me, and it’s only then that I realize how close he’s gotten. We’re not even a foot apart, his eyes a dark green and blue in the dimmer light of the garage. I clench my hand into a fist, commanding myself not to reach for him, to stroke his beard and feel its rough bristles beneath my palm.
Because I want to. So badly. And I shouldn’t want him as much as I do. I’m smart enough to know that this isn’t supposed to be…something. The problem, of course, is that I can’t get that message to my heart from my brain.
“You know,” I start, “Agatha’s going to see your car out there and know you’re here. She’ll figure us out if she hasn’t already.”
He shrugs again. “I don’t care.”
I frown. “You don’t care what she thinks? You know what a gossip she is, right?”
He huffs the tiniest of laughs. “Darcy, if you knew all the town gossip I knew. I just keep it all here.” He taps his head. “But no. I don’t care what she thinks. I don’t care what anyone thinks.”
He steps closer. I worry my lip. “But… no one ? Not even…” Am I really about to say this? “Not even your parents?”
His expression softens as he reaches to brush a strand of hair behind my ear. “No. I stopped worrying about that a long time ago.” Then he grins, and my heart stutters. “Are you telling me that you , Darcy Belle, are worried about what others think?”
Heat flames my cheeks. “I don’t know,” I answer him honestly. “Maybe if I had a better understanding of what we’re actually doing here, I’d be a bit more…settled.”
“Why do you need an answer to that so quickly?” he counters.
Now I’m the one shrugging.
“Tell you what,” he offers. “Why don’t you let me take you inside your house and make you come.” He smiles wickedly. “That should put you at ease for the night, at least.”
I stare up at him. “You’re dead serious, aren’t you?”
“About making you come? Abso-fucking-lutely.” Then, without warning, he picks me up and tosses me over his shoulders.
“Anthony!” I yelp. “Oh my God, put me down!”
“Next time your feet touch the floor is when I say so, Darcy Belle, and not a moment before.”
I smack at his back, but I may as well be a fly bothering a horse for all the good it does me. He spanks my ass with a pop, and God, it feels so good. Why does getting spanked feel so delicious? I wiggle more. “Put me down!”
Another spanking, which is exactly what I’m aiming for.
He chuckles as he opens the door to my cottage. “Seems like someone wants to be punished.”
I writhe in his grip, half excited and half terrified, as he stalks through the tiny house.
In the bedroom, Anthony walks to the bed and lowers us down so he’s sitting and my face is inches from the mattress. “I’m letting you go, but only so you can get naked. And Darcy?”
I don’t answer.
He spanks me.
“Yes?”
“First, you answer me when I ask a question. Second, you will stand in front of me and strip yourself bare, and you will do nothing but that until I give you permission to do otherwise. Am I clear?”
I grin, my heartbeat racing. “Crystal.”
He levers me off his shoulder, guiding my feet to the floor and steadying me with his hands on my hips, while the blood rushes out of my head and I get my bearings. The heat in his hazel eyes is unmistakable. He really wants me. And it’s heady, the power I feel. Slowly, I unsnap my dusty overalls, letting them fall open before stepping out of my work boots and pulling my socks off. I slide the overalls off, kicking them to the side, my gaze never leaving his face all the while.
He’s leaning back on his hands, his eyes hooded with need, his jaw ticking occasionally as I reveal more and more skin. But it’s the outfit I’m in now, the yellow lace bra and panty set I wore to give him a show at the bowling alley, that makes him growl. Low, predatory. My skin prickles at the sound.
“Told you I was wearing a bra,” I say, sounding deliberately bratty to get the best rise out of him.
He meets my eyes. “Take it off. Leave the panties.”
I reach behind my back and unhook the bra, a sigh of relief immediately coming out as it comes undone, releasing my breasts.
“Doesn’t that feel better?” he asks.
“You have no idea.” Damn things are torture. I much prefer my usual sports bras.
“Turn around.”
I obey, dropping the bra to the floor as I go.
And this man’s hands come up to my back, and he lightly scratches where the instrument of torture has been. The moan that comes out of my mouth…at this moment, it’s better than any orgasm he’s delivered.
He chuckles. “Thought so.”
Do I say it? “But don’t you like it?” I can’t keep the hint of vulnerability out of my voice.
“Of course I like it. Your tits are amazing, Darcy, and that bra made sure I could tell.”
“But?”
“But it was clearly uncomfortable. Besides, I don’t care what you wear. I know what’s underneath.” He pulls me backward so his arms can wrap around and cup my breasts. When he speaks, his breath fans the skin of my back. “I know where the freckles are. What color nipples you have. The way they tighten just for me when I do this.” He runs his hands over them, pinching them while nipping at my back. I moan again, more of a plea than anything. Then he releases me. “Take one step forward.”
I obey.
“Bend over. I want to see just how pretty your ass is.”
I hesitate, hoping for a punishment.
“Brat,” he says, amusement lacing his tone. “Do as I say.”
I look over my shoulder. His eyes are glued to my ass, and they flick up to meet mine for a brief second. “ Now, Darcy, or the punishment won’t be what you want, I assure you.”
I raise a brow. “Maybe it will be.”
But I do as he commands, bending to present myself to him, and even though I’m still wearing panties, it feels like I’ve never been more exposed.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs, his hands moving around my ass. When he’s had his fill, he tells me to stand, and he slides my panties off, his beard scraping against my skin as he goes.
“Lay over my knees.”
I startle. “What?”
He tilts his head. “You heard me, Miss Belle.” He pats his knee. “Put your pretty body across my knees. You’re about to be spanked.”
Fuck. Immediately, my pussy gets wet, and I can feel the dampness between my legs. Need courses through me and I do exactly as instructed, despite it feeling a little odd.
“Comfortable?” he asks.
“Um-hmm,” I answer.
“Good.” A second later, he spanks me.
“Fuck,” I exhale, luxuriating in the way his hand circles the spot he’s hit.
He spanks me again, and again, and again, his grunts blending with mine, until I’m a writhing, needy mess.
“Please, Daddy,” I beg. “I need you.”
“What do you need?” His hand moves between my legs, but nowhere near the area I’m desperate for.
“I need you to fuck me.” I wiggle, desperate for more.
“You’re so sexy like this. Do you know that?” His voice is husky, and I can feel his cock pressing against my side. “So fucking needy, your ass red from my hands. Get on the bed on all fours.”
I hurry to comply, turning my head to watch him undress. I’ll never get over he way he looks, solid muscle on solid muscle. This man has absolutely ruined me for anyone younger.
Hell, he’s ruined me for any other man, period. I have no idea how I’m supposed to be done with him.
“You like what you see?” he asks.
“Fuck yes,” I breathe. He still hasn’t let me do anything to him. “Can I suck you?”
“Shit, baby, when you ask me so prettily like that, your ass in my face…turn around. You can have my cock.”
My pussy throbs again as I reposition myself on the mattress, and I press my legs together to get some relief. He’s tall enough that I stay on my knees, bent over, to lift his cock to my lips. With my eyes firmly glued to his, I lick the precum off the tip, then move my tongue over my lips. I moan. “Thank you.”
His eyes flare.
Then I open my mouth and take him in, slowly, working him as though my mouth can’t take it. But it very much can. I just want to draw this out as long as possible.
“More, Darcy,” he commands.
I take him deeper, listening to his answering groan, then pull away and do it again, hollowing my cheeks as I pull up. Fuck. I need relief. I pop off him.
“You need my cock in that pretty cunt of yours, don’t you?”
I whimper and nod, not caring about anything except getting him inside me.
“Turn around. Give me your ass, baby.”
I obey, but when I move to put myself closer to him, he smacks my ass. I lower my head and moan. “Please.”
He snakes a hand between my legs, finding my clit and barely touching it. I hiss, then wiggle, desperate for any friction. His hand withdraws and I whimper again.
“ Please, Daddy. Please. I need your cock inside me. I need you to fill me up.”
One hand grips my hip as he lines himself up behind me. I barely manage to stay still but can’t keep the needy moan inside.
“You want this cock?”
I nod vigorously. “Yes, please, my God, please .”
He thrusts in, hard, and I nearly come right then. The size of him stings for a second, but it only makes the following pleasure that much better.
“Fuck, Darcy. Your cunt is so fucking perfect.” He does it again, harder, both of us moaning. The sounds he makes, low and just as needy as me, send me racing to the edge. More and more he fucks me, both hands on my hips as he gives me what I need—what we both need.
The only sound in the room is the sound of our sex. Panting. Skin on skin. The thrust of his cock into my dripping wet pussy. I moan, surrendering to him completely, balling the fitted sheet in my hands so hard it pulls off the mattress.
Behind me, Anthony groans. “Your cunt is so good, baby. Made to take this cock.” He shifts and slides his hand up my back, pushing me wordlessly down to the bare mattress. My cheek presses against the rough fabric as he grunts behind me, the angle so deep it’s almost painful.
It’s incredible. Rough, feral, incredible .
“There you go,” he praises. “I can feel you tighten around my cock,” Anthony rasps behind me, not slowing down. “Come for me.”
But I don’t want to. I want more. I don’t want this to stop. My body barrels forward without care as I draw up onto my elbows, the orgasm blooming from deep inside me. I shake with the release, crying out.
Anthony groans with his own release, losing his rhythm before slamming into me and stilling, his cock twitching as his fingers press divots into my hips. “So good,” he pants, then bends and places the sweetest of kisses on me, peppering them from one shoulder to the other.
I hum in response, unable to do more than revel in the post-orgasmic bliss.
“So fucking perfect,” he rasps, then pulls out. “The prettiest picture, you bent over with my cum trickling down your leg.” He delivers a light smack on my ass, then says, “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”
My legs shake with the effort of staying upright, but in moments, he’s back with a wet washcloth, cleaning me gently. The care and attention of it surprises me, even though I should have expected it.
When he’s finished, he puts the washcloth in the hamper and we set the fitted sheet back to rights, then we climb into the bed and he tucks me to him, little spoon to big spoon. He kisses my shoulder and whispers, “Go to sleep,” and my eyes prick with unwelcome emotion. I’ve never been cuddled like this. Never felt the heaviness of an arm settle on top of me as someone drifts into sleep. Never had someone who could both command me and care for me.
I stay awake long into the night, reveling in the way our bodies fit against each other, the sound of his breathing, and the feel of simply being wanted. Eventually, I drift off to sleep, and when I wake up in the morning, I find he’s gone.