14. Chapter 13
Beck
"Your place or mine?"
I grab Darcy's hand, racing down the pier at Godspeed, barely able to concentrate on anything other than the way Darcy’s fingers grip mine like she’s as desperate to find the nearest bed as I am.
She actually pauses to think. “I don’t know. Your mansion has... more space?”
“Are you planning to perform aerial acrobatics, or—”
“Well, isn’t your room messy? You seem like the kind of guy who has... stuff everywhere.”
“It’s called organized chaos, thank you very much. Everything’s exactly where I left it… On the floor. What about your place? One-bedroom, neat freak vibes, no chance of Declan Morrison walking in at an extremely inconvenient time.”
Darcy narrows her eyes. “You make a good point.”
“Of course I do. You think I get by on just my face? Wait, no. Don’t answer that.” I stop mid-stride as we reach the boardwalk. “How far away is your apartment?”
“Five minute drive.”
I groan in relief, dragging her toward the Bronco. “Alright, that's closer than the mansion. Let’s go before I decide that the pier itself has enough romantic potential to do this right here, right now.”
Darcy laughs, slightly breathless as she climbs into the passenger seat.
Or tries to.
It’s an ungraceful scene involving those dangerous heels and a tight skirt, and I step in immediately, hoisting her up by the waist and depositing her on the seat like a very sexy package.
She shoots me a glare, but before she can say a word, I reach over and buckle her seatbelt myself, clicking it into place with a dramatic flourish.
“You’re welcome,” I say, shutting her door and then rolling across the hood of the Bronco because I’m a man on a fucking mission.
“Beck—what the hell was that?” She’s laughing from inside.
“Efficiency,” I tell her as I slide behind the wheel. I lean across the console and hook my hand around the back of her neck, kissing her until she gasps against my mouth.
As I start the engine, I look at her and smile. “By the way, can you drive stick?”
Darcy frowns at the gear stick between us. “Uh, yeah. Wait, why does that—”
But before she finishes her sentence, I take her hand and press it firmly over my literal, throbbing gearstick. Her jaw drops as I grin way too smugly for a man seconds away from near public indecency.
I rotate my hips in the drivers seat, letting the warmth of her palm settle over my cock. She responds by squeezing firmly, smiling sheepishly across the cabin at me.
“Told you I can’t wait. Now let's go.”
Her hand tightens around me, and by the time I rip out of the parking lot, she’s already helping.
The five-minute drive takes approximately three years, but lucky for me, Darcy's enthusiasm for my stick shift only gets stronger with every block.
"Oh… Fuck, Darce." I feel my head relax back as she keeps rubbing my dick through my jeans.
"Beck! Watch the road!"
"Shit!" I correct the steering wheel and straighten back up. "Sorry."
She laughs and leans closer, not letting go of me, just swapping hands. Christ. It feels so good already. I’m not sure whether to speed up or pull over.
By the time we reach her building, I’m gripping the wheel like it’s holding me back from full-on self-combustion.
Her apartment’s curb looms into view, and in my focus, or lack thereof, I sideswipe a trash can. It clatters loudly as I throw the Bronco into park at an angle so aggressive, I’m pretty sure Declan just sat upright in bed whispering, Beck, no.
“It’s fine,” I mutter, yanking the keys out and jumping out to grab her door.
Darcy looks through the windshield. "You're taking up two spaces."
"I know. Don't ruin this for me."
We don’t even make it to her front door without her stealing another kiss, her hands wandering under my shirt.
We finally reach her door, and Darcy lets go of me and digs through her purse, producing her keys while I'm already behind her, kissing the side of her neck.
"Beck."
"Mmm?"
"I need to open the door."
"Go ahead."
"You're making it extremely difficult."
She tries to slide the key into the lock, but I’m behind her, hands roaming her body, my very obvious hard-on fully pressed against her ass.
I grin against her neck. "Having trouble finding the hole, Spreadsheet?"
She freezes, then slowly looks over her shoulder. "Did you seriously just say that?"
"Sorry. Couldn't let it go."
"You're an idiot."
"And yet..." I press another kiss beneath her ear. "You still can't get it in."
"Oh my God." She's laughing now, trying to elbow me away while simultaneously pushing her ass back against me, which really undermines the message. "Stop touching me for five seconds."
Her elbow jabs me back just enough that the key finally clicks.
The second the door swings open, she pulls me inside, neither of us bothering with lights or formalities.
Our mouths collide, teeth and lips and everything I’ve been holding back since the gala. Her back hits the inside of the door, but I’m already shoving the jacket off her shoulders, yanking at her top.
She tosses her blazer somewhere, dragging her nails down my chest while I work the zipper of her skirt, and we stumble backward, our bodies magnetized.
Whatever we knock over in this chaos can’t matter, not when my shirt’s halfway gone, and she’s trying to pull me straight into her bedroom in just her bra.
“This date went from 0 to 60,” I tease, pulling her flush against me again. "I like it."
Her bedroom is clean with white walls, beige linens, a single lamp on the nightstand. It also smells really nice, but I'm too busy kissing her to give a damn.
Darcy stands at the foot of the bed, a masterpiece of black lace and sheer stockings. Her dark lace panties are visible through the stockings, and her bra barely contains the swell of her breasts.
I groan at the gorgeous sight before me as she reaches for my shirt.
"Beck…"
She gasps as I kiss her again, deeper this time, and somewhere between her hands sliding beneath my shirt and mine sliding her skirt over the flare of her hips, everything changes.
The frantic fumbling slows enough for me to actually feel what I'm touching, and when Darcy's clothes finally join mine somewhere on the floor, I guide her down onto the mattress and push myself up over her naked body.
I stop moving as my eyes take in the sight beneath me.
Holy fucking shit.
I've imagined this.
Jesus Christ, have I imagined this.
I've imagined Darcy naked beneath me in the shower, in bed, in the locker room once during a particularly boring video review that nearly resulted in an extremely awkward conversation with Travis Campbell.
But none of it comes close to the sight I'm looking at right now.
Her dark hair fans out across the white pillow, her cheeks flushed the perfect shade of pink that creeps down her neck and onto the tops of her breasts, rising and falling with every shallow breath.
And her tits.
Jesus Christ, her tits are a masterpiece in their own right. They're soft and full, demanding my attention like they’re made for my hands, my mouth, my worship. Her nipples are peaked already, tight and dusky, begging to be sucked, licked, and fucking bitten.
Goddamn.
But it’s her stomach that completely wrecks me. It's the most damn alluring curve, with a subtle softness that has me clenching my fists to stop myself from devouring her whole.
Holy shit, it’s fucking perfect.
Smooth and so damn lickable, the slight dip of her navel calling to my tongue like some goddamn beacon of temptation. She doesn’t look like a model; she looks like a fucking woman. With soft dips and curves, her body radiating heat and sex appeal in a way I’ve never seen before.
Every inch of her is an invitation to sin, and fuck me, I’m about to RSVP.
But just as I lower my head to taste her sweet breasts, her hands start to move, and I see she's starting to cover herself.
"Uh-uh." I catch her wrist gently and bring her hand back down to the mattress. "Don't you dare."
"I can't help it." Darcy freezes, a look of shyness flickering across her face. "You're staring."
"Yeah." I don't even attempt to deny it. "I've been imagining this for weeks. But sweetheart? Your body. Your skin. All of you. Please, just give me a fucking minute to admire you."
Her mouth twitches, but she leaves her hands where they are.
I lower myself to her face instead, kissing the corner of her mouth, slowly following the warm line of her throat while her fingers relax and slowly slide into my hair as I work my way down, kissing her throat, the swell of her breasts, eventually taking a nipple into my mouth.
I suck hard, and she moans beneath me.
"Oh, Beck."
I roll my tongue over the pebbled peak, reaching for the other one and pinching it between my thumb and finger.
This isn't the pool anymore.
There isn't a mansion full of people who could walk outside. There isn't an office door someone could knock on, or a game tomorrow, or a fucking trade threat sitting between us.
And there isn't that look she gave me on the pier when I asked if she knew something I didn't.
Because she does.
I know Darcy well enough now to know when she's dodging me, and I'm your analyst, I know lots of things you don't might've gotten her out of answering the question, but it didn't convince me for a fucking second.
Tomorrow, maybe I'll ask again.
Tonight, there's just Darcy Madden. Naked and willing beneath me.
And for the first time since I met her, I have nowhere else I need to be.
So I take my time.
I release her breast with a hard pull on her nipple, feeling her slowly relax as I kiss her soft belly. God I love her softness. I move my way down, feeling my cock pulse against the mattress as I settle between her legs, slowly spreading them with my hands, checking Darcy to ensure she's okay.
"This okay?"
She nods against the pillow. "Yes."
I lower myself down, and the sight before my eyes is everything I ever imagined.
Fuck me.
Her pussy is perfect. It's smooth and bare, glistening wet, that bright pink flesh already slick and waiting. Her clit peeks out from its hood, swollen and begging for my mouth, and I can't look away.