20. Chapter 19
Beck
Iwake up and Darcy's wrapped around me like a very expensive octopus, one leg thrown over mine, her face buried against my chest.
She slept all night. Deep. Peaceful. Occasionally making this tiny snore she would absolutely deny under oath. Like a woman who finally said the thing she's been carrying for weeks.
Me? I'm staring at the ceiling of my suite at five in the morning, replaying one question on a loop.
Where does that leave us?
I didn't have an answer last night.
I kissed her forehead and said "with me," which sounded great in the moment and means absolutely nothing when you dissect it. And I of all people, know that Darcy Madden is a professional dissector.
The Strip glows through the curtains we never closed. Somewhere out there, my agent is asleep, and in a few hours I'm walking into a meeting that could move my entire life to the desert.
And the woman who loves me is drooling on my chest.
She loves me.
She LOVES me.
Well. Technically, she said she’s falling in love with me, which apparently means I’ve entered some kind of emotional probation period.
Fine. I’ll take it.
I’ve performed well under evaluation before.
By the time the sun starts creeping into the room, I've made exactly zero decisions about my career, but one very firm decision about breakfast.
Because Darcy's rolled onto her back at some point, one arm flung over her head, the sheet slipped down to her waist. Her dark hair is a beautiful mess against the pillow, and from where I'm laying beside her, I've got the perfect view of her sexy as hell lips.
Her breathing is slow.
And I am a man of appetite.
So I slide down the mattress carefully, lifting the sheet over my head like I'm sneaking into a tent. Enough light filters through the white cotton for me to see her smooth legs, teasing me all the way down as I settle between her thighs.
I press a kiss to the inside of her knee, testing.
She doesn't stir.
Feeling a burst of heat racing through me, I press another kiss, higher.
Her leg shifts, so I keep going, slow, patient, working my way up the soft warmth of her inner thigh until I'm right there, staring at the slight crease of her pussy.
I take a moment, breathing her in, and God, even half-asleep she's already reacting, her hips tilting toward my mouth like her body knows me before her brain clocks in.
"Rise and shine, baby."
I drag my tongue through her in one long, slow stroke.
Above the sheet, Darcy makes a sound. It's sleepy and confused, but absolutely interested.
I do it again, flattening my tongue against clit, tasting her sweetness. Christ, it's good. I do it again as her hand lands on the back of my head through the cotton.
"Beck?" Her voice is thick with sleep. "Wha… what are you—oh."
"Morning," I say against her, which does things to her that make her whole body arch.
"Oh my God." Her fingers curl into the sheet. "Are you—is this—"
"Breakfast." I circle her clit with my tongue, dipping to her hole and licking as deep as I can. "Most important meal of the day. Go back to sleep if you want. I'll be down here."
She does not go back to sleep.
She wakes up spectacularly, thighs falling open wider, one hand shoving the sheet back so she can look down at me, hair wrecked, eyes heavy, cheeks already flushing pink.
I hold her gaze while I lick into her, and the sound she makes goes straight to my cock.
"You're insane," she breathes.
"Mm-hm." I slide two fingers into her, curling them exactly where I've learned she needs them, and her head drops back against the pillow with a thud. "Insane about this pussy. Sweetest thing I've ever tasted, Darce. I'd order it off every menu in this hotel."
"Don't—ah—don't talk about menus while you're—"
I suck her clit between my lips and she stops forming words entirely.
It doesn't take long. It never takes long in the morning, when she's warm and soft and hasn't had time to build the walls back up.
Her hips start riding my mouth, her hand fisting in my hair, and I work her with my tongue and fingers until she's trembling, until her thighs start that telltale shake.
I pull my mouth away from her clit just as she's about to go over, and she makes this desperate sound that I feel in my bones.
"Where are you going?"
"Not far."
I trail my lips down, kissing the inside of her thigh, then the other, taking my time. Her skin tastes incredible, and when I reach her tight little ass, I press my tongue flat against it.
She inhales sharply. "Beck—"
I lick along the edge of her asshole, and her whole body jerks like I've hit a live wire.
"Oh my God."
"You like that, baby?"
She answers by spreading her legs wider, one hand already sliding down her stomach toward her clit.
I watch her fingers find it, circling slowly, and I almost come from the sight alone. Darcy Madden, perfect polished princess, touching herself while I lick her ass. This is not a moment I ever expected to have, and I'm committing every detail to memory.
"Good girl," I murmur against her skin. "That's it. Don't stop."
She doesn't. Her fingers keep working her clit while I lap at her back entrance, tasting the salt-sweet mix of her arousal. Her breathing gets ragged, her hips pressing back against my tongue.
I watch her other hand slide down, one finger teasing her entrance before pushing inside her tight pussy.
"Fuck, Darce."
She moans, low and broken, her finger moving in and out while I keep working her ass with my tongue.
"Add another," I tell her.
She does. Two fingers now, sliding into her own pussy, and I'm so hard it's almost painful watching her fuck herself while I eat her every inch.
I pull back just long enough to line my thumb up with her ass, pressing slowly. She gasps, her fingers still moving inside herself, and I press my thumb in alongside them.
We find a rhythm together. Her fingers inside her pussy, my thumb in her ass, both of us moving in tandem. Her walls clench around me, around herself, and the sound she makes is pure wrecked pleasure.
"That's it," I growl. "Feel how full you are. Feel us both inside you."
Her fingers speed up. Her breath catches. I feel her getting close, her whole body tightening like a bowstring.
"Beck—Beck, I'm—"
"I know, baby." I groan against her. "Give it to me. Come on my tongue."
I drop my mouth back to her clit, sucking hard, and she shatters.
She comes with a cry that I can't understand, her fingers still buried inside herself, her ass gripping my thumb, her hips grinding against my mouth like she can't get enough.
I don't stop. I keep licking through every wave until she's shaking, until she has to push my head away with a breathless laugh.
"Beck. Beck. I can't."
I crawl up her body, kiss her forehead, her cheek, her mouth. She tastes like herself on my lips.
"Best breakfast in Vegas," I say.
She laughs, still breathless, and pulls me down against her.
"You," Darcy pants at the ceiling, "have a problem."
"Several, actually. Weren't you responsible for putting them in a report?
" I kiss her again, letting her taste herself, and she hums into my mouth like she doesn't hate it at all.
"Now. Seriously. We need a real breakfast. What do you want?
And think big, because I'm ordering like a man who might get paid Vegas money soon. "
A still look flickers across her face at that. I kiss it away and reach for the room service menu. Forty minutes later, our suite looks like the best damn buffet in all of Las Vegas.
"Okay, Beck. I think, I think, you might have gone a little overboard."
She has a point. The room service cart might just be a monument to my poor decision-making skills.
There's a stack of pancakes so tall it's lopsided, golden and fluffy, drowning in maple syrup that pools at the edges of the plate.
Endless rashers of bacon are fanned out beside them, crispy and glistening with grease with a mountain of scrambled eggs looking like yellow clouds.
Of course, Darcy reaches for the fresh berries in a crystal bowl and pours herself a coffee that's been served in an actual silver pot.
"Good though, right?" I say, stuffing an entire rasher of bacon in my mouth.
Darcy sits cross-legged on the bed, wearing my Bellagio robe. Apparently, she's claimed it with the casual entitlement of a woman raised in five-star hotels. Even now, she's eating pancakes off my plate despite having her own identical plate six inches away.
"You have your own pancakes," I point out.
"Yours taste better."
"They're the same pancakes."
"No… They're your pancakes." She stabs another forkful. "That's the flavor."
And here's the thing that gets me. This. Right here. Darcy Madden with syrup on her lip and her hair a disaster and zero makeup...
Nobody else gets this version of her. No one ever has. Not Colin, not her parents, not even foot fetish weirdo exes.
Just me.
I lean over and kiss the syrup off her lip, and just as I'm about to tell her how fucking glad I am she chased me down last night, the door to my suite bursts open like a fucking SWAT raid just stormed into my hotel suite.
"BECK, I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU'RE NOT IN HERE—"
The door slams back against the wall with enough force that Darcy's coffee actually spills a little on the tray. I look over and see Declan filling the doorway like an extremely pissed-off nightclub bouncer who’s just discovered the VIP room contains his naked little brother.
Mason is barely half a step behind him, holding a coffee and my spare key card, which explains the breaking and entering.
They both stop dead.
Because I am naked except for a strategically positioned pancake plate, and Darcy Madden is sitting in my bed wearing a robe and not much else, holding a fork dripping with pancakes and maple syrup.
Nobody moves.
Mason takes a sip of his coffee. "Well. At least he's not missing."
"You gave them a KEY?" I yell at the universe.