25. Mack #2
I hook my fingers beneath the lace bunched at her hips and peel the thong down her legs. She lifts one knee, then the other, helping me strip it away before I rise to my full height and make quick work of my own clothes.
My cock is painfully hard by the time I step out of my boxer briefs.
I let my eyes trail over her for a moment— flushed skin, hair spread across the sheets, those bright eyes locked on mine, wrecking me since the day she found me in her bathroom. The sight of it pulls something possessive and feral loose in my bloodstream before I can shut it down.
“Put your hands above your head.”
She does as she’s told.
I spit in my hand and stroke my length a few times as she watches in awe before I line myself up with her glistening cunt, dragging the head of my cock slowly against her and teasing over her clit instead of giving her what she wants.
The little whine she lets out is half annoyance, half desperation.
“I don’t have a condom.”
“Tested, clean—”
“Same.” I hold her gaze. “You on the pill?”
She nods.
“Mm…” The corner of my mouth tugs. “Good.”
“Mack…pleaseee.”
“Please what?”
“Please…” She shifts beneath me, already losing her patience. “Fuck me.”
“You’re so damn pretty when you beg.” I drag myself through her one more time, earning another frustrated sound before I meet her eyes again. “Show me how pretty you are when you’re screaming my name while I pump you full of cum.”
She pushes her eyebrows together and nods eagerly.
I glide through her center, finally give her what she’s been asking for. I lean over her, pinning both wrists above her head with one hand while the other settles hard against her hip, holding her in place as I drive into her.
Raw.
“Fuck, Darcy.” I practically growl. “You feel so good.”
She answers with a moan, nipping at my lower lip before sucking it. I answer by hammering into her harder, giving her every inch, and she rocks her hips to meet my thrusts.
“Mack…” She whimpers around my name. “Oh my God… please don’t stop…”
“Call me by my real name.”
The words are out before I can even think about why.
She stills for half a second, her eyebrows knitting together as she searches my face, looking for something I can’t even explain myself, then nods.
Our mouths find each other again, kisses turning sloppy as we lose ourselves in the same rhythm, both of us chasing the same finish.
“Mason…” she breathes when I finally let her up for air.
The sound goes straight to my dick.
Low. Breathless. Caught somewhere between surprise and surrender.
My grip tightens instinctively as I keep her on edge, right where I want her.
Not to be an asshole. Mostly. Watching Darcy come apart has become one of my favorite pastimes.
Watching all that wit give way to want, her smart-ass remarks stripped away until all that’s left are those gorgeous sounds she keeps trying not to make.
She has no idea what that does to me. Then again, judging by the way she’s looking at me right now, maybe she does.
Her hips start to rolling faster as her pussy clenching around me with every thrust. My jaw ticks as I hold her gaze, my hand gripping her hip harder and pulling her down onto my cock over and over.
“Please—” she begs.
“Please what?”
“Mason…”
“Darcy…” I taunt back.
She grunts in lust-filled frustration, tears start gathering in the corners of her eyes.
“Use your words, baby.”
I snap my hips again, sending her eyes rolling into the back of her head.
“I need to come.” She squeaks. “Please… please let me come.”
“Only… because… you… beg… so… sweetly…” I bite out in between thrusts.
Releasing her hip, I slide my hand between her legs and rub tight circles over her clit until I feel her body start to give. The first pulse around my cock almost does me in. Then another. Then another.
I fuck her through every second of it, swallowing every broken sound that falls from her lips as she comes apart around me. I jerk my hips three more times and I’m right behind her, spilling deep inside her with a groan against her mouth.
I collapse against her, our bodies still tangled and nothing but the sound of our panting filling the room. Darcy gives me a soft smile as our pulses finally steady.
I pull out with a hiss, watching myself drip out of her. Without thinking, I run two fingers up her inner thigh and push it right back where it belongs, making her whole body twitch again.
“This…” I say, still wrought with possessive energy. “… is mine now.”
She whimpers again.
“I wanna feel me still dripping out of you when I come back for more later.”
After, I pull my boxers back on while Darcy disappears into the bathroom and comes back wearing my T-shirt from tonight. It hangs loose at one of her shoulders and reaches halfway down her thighs, the sight of it doing nothing for my self-control.
We settle onto the couch in comfortable silence, the movie already playing by the time I stretch out and pull her back between my legs. She folds easily against my chest like she belongs there, warm and relaxed in a way she hadn’t been when I showed up earlier.
I kiss the top of her head like a reflex, while she drags one of those fluffy blankets she has up over both of us and mumbling something about Boston houses being cold before burrowing closer.
I can’t help noticing she smells like me now, too. I like that a hell of a lot more than I probably should.
She needed tonight. So did I. That’s all it is. Everybody won.
My hand keeps drifting over her waist beneath the blanket while I look down at her curled against me, wearing my shirt like it somehow belongs to her.
What the hell has gotten into you, MacAllister?