Page 25

Chapter 25

Weston

D arcy leads me out of the bar into the street. Smart, pretty Darcy. With his pretty eyes. And his stupid, sexy glasses. I love him. I love his big brain. And his voice. And the way he cuddles. I blink at him, trying to make his face less blurry. Doesn’t work. Oh well. I still know he’s gorgeous. Even with the blurry face. I love his dick too. Big fucking dick. Feels good. I sway a little, my body trying to get to him.

He wraps his arm around my waist to steady me and I lean into him. He feels good. So good.

“What’s wrong?” Darcy asks, looking up at me in concern. “You’re not going to throw up, are you? I don’t like puke.”

I drop a sloppy kiss to his lips, grinning when he almost dodges me at first. “Nope. Just love you.”

His eyes go wide. “ What? ”

I know we’re drunk, but his ears aren’t drunk, right? “I love you. Like so much.”

“You’re drunk,” he accuses.

I am. I really am. But I still love him. “Yeah.” I grin. My lips feel funny. All tingly and stuff. “Still love you, though,” I say, making my voice all sing-songy.

Our car pulls up and Darcy ushers me to it, helping me climb into the back seat. Why didn’t he say he loves me too? I pout at him. “Rude, Darcy.”

“What is?” he asks, his eyes searching my face.

“You didn’t say it back.” I cross my arms over my chest, pretending to be mad. I’m not, though. I could never be mad at Darcy. I love him so much. Maybe he just doesn’t love me back and that’s why he didn’t say it. My lip quivers and my eyes burn, so I turn away.

Darcy grabs my face and forces my gaze to his. “Are you crying?”

“No. That’s stupid. Why would I cry? It’s not like my boyfriend doesn’t love me or anything.”

“West,” he murmurs, leaning forward to press his forehead to mine.

“S’fine. You don’t have to love me.” I refuse to actually cry. I’m not going to be the guy who has a drunken breakdown in the back of an Uber. That would be embarrassing.

“You’re an idiot.” Before I have a chance to argue, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and climbing on my lap. If he’s trying to distract me, it’s working. My dick even twitches a little bit. Take that, whiskey.

He straddles me, putting a knee on either side of my hips, and grinds his hard dick against my stomach as he slams his mouth down on mine. I grip his waist, moaning when he sucks on my bottom lip. His fingers tangle in my hair, and jerk my head back. The rough treatment has my dick perking up and when he breaks our kiss, dipping lower to lick over my Adam’s apple, my hips jerk up, trying to chase the friction of his body.

I’ll let him have this. Mostly because it’s so fucking hot and I’m so fucking horny and I want his dick so fucking bad, but I still know I told him I love him and he didn’t tell me he loves me back.

“You like my dick, West?” he asks, his voice a rough whisper. “That’s what you were telling all your friends.”

“I do,” I groan. “I so do. You’ll fuck me with it, right? When we get home? Please. Please, please.”

He moans, grinding against me again. “You don’t have to beg. I’ll give you what you want.”

I let my head fall back against the car seat as he works his hips on top of mine. His ass is moving over my aching cock and I can tell I’m leaking. Can tell I’ll come if he doesn’t stop.

“Ey! No fucking in the back seat.”

Darcy jumps, jerking away from me and scrambling back into his seat. He turns to me, his cheeks red, but he laughs. “Shit. When we get home, okay?” he asks, eyes heated with promise.

I nod, trying to figure out if the car is spinning or if my head is. Maybe I should just close my eyes for a second, so when we get home, I’m not still spinning. I lean into Darcy, resting my head against his shoulder, and close my eyes.

I’m hot. Too hot. Too covered .

I groan, trying to figure out what’s holding me down, pushing it away until I hear a muffled noise of displeasure. Darcy.

My head is pounding, a steady throbbing in my temples that gets worse when I inhale, which makes no fucking sense. What the fuck did I do? Last night rushes through my mind. Hanging out with the guys after the game, drinking, Darcy and Parker showing up, dancing, more drinking, and more drinking.

Fuck. I told the guys how much I like Darcy’s dick. Jesus, what was I thinking? Who let me drink that much? And then Darcy bringing me home with the promise that he would fuck me. Fuck. I told Darcy I love him. Like a bunch of times. Did I… did I cry about it? I’m never drinking again.

I groan again, and the weight crushing my chest disappears from my body. “If you’re going to puke, get up and do it far, far away from me,” Darcy says, panic in his voice.

“I’m not going to throw up, but God, be quiet, please? My head is pounding.”

The bed shifts, but I’m too afraid to open my eyes. I’m worried that if I do, I might actually throw up, even though I said I wasn’t going to. It’s not that my stomach is feeling bad, but I know the sunlight streaming through my windows is going to send even more pain through my already splitting head.

Darcy settles his head back on my chest. I smile to myself when he brings a hand up, letting his fingers rub over my collarbone and the side of my throat. I hum, my heart swelling. “You had an eventful night,” he says softly.

“I did indeed. Not sure that I’ll ever be able to look the guys in the eye ever again.”

He falls silent, his fingers pausing. “You remember that? ”

My heart skips a beat. Did he assume I didn’t? “Yes. I remember everything.”

“Everything?” he asks, his voice choked off and slightly shaky.

“Mmm. I think the thing I remember most is how you didn’t tell me you loved me back. That’s okay, though. I know I got kind of whiny about it. I can wait. As long as…” I stop, trying to collect my thoughts before letting out a heavy sigh. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, baby. I just… I need to know that you feel something. ”

Darcy’s weight leaves my chest and I peel my eyes open, squinting against the bright light. My headache seems to be easing the slightest bit, so that’s good at any rate. His gorgeous eyes come into focus, and I almost hold my breath waiting for his response. I’m not at all expecting what he says, though. “Did you mean it?”

I blink at him in confusion. Maybe this hangover is scrambling my brain. “Did I mean that I love you?” He nods, nibbling on his bottom lip, his eyebrows drawn together. “Of course I meant it. God, I’ve loved you for weeks. It feels like I’ve loved you from the second you told me my color-coded notes were speaking to the nerd in you.”

Darcy laughs, but sobers quickly, his eyes searching my face. “I thought maybe you were just drunk.”

I’m not sure my heart can handle that he still hasn’t said it back. “I was drunk, Darcy. Not stupid.” I try to force a smile, but it feels more like a grimace. “Like I said, it’s okay if you don’t—”

“I love you too,” he blurts out, his cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink. “I didn’t say it because I wasn’t sure if you really meant it. I didn’t want you to regret anything when you woke up. I just—God, I love you too.”

Relief rushes through me as my stomach does a happy flutter. Thank fucking God. I want to kiss him so badly. So fucking badly but… “My mouth tastes like something actually fucking died in there. I’m going to go brush my teeth, so I can kiss the living shit out of you.”

I climb out of bed, rushing off to brush my teeth, smiling at Darcy’s laughter. I’m halfway through brushing when Darcy steps into the bathroom and opens the medicine cabinet to grab his toothbrush. I smile at him in the mirror, foam clinging to the corners of my lips. He laughs, then brushes his own teeth.

It all feels very domestic—waking up with Darcy, brushing our teeth together. In a few years, we could be doing this same thing. Getting ready for work, coming home and grading papers together, cuddling at night and getting my mind blown with that finger thing he does.

I huff at the reminder of the shit I said last night, but it’s actually hilarious, and they truly should not knock it until they try it. Maybe I’ll ask Ben if Parker does any freaky finger shit. Gotta leave Darcy out of that, though. I have a feeling he’d be scandalized.

“Do you want to take a quick shower? I think I smell like the bar,” Darcy says, pulling my attention to him.

I nod. I’m sure I smell like the bar too. “Yeah, for sure.”

When we’re out of the shower and dry, I lean over and scoop Darcy up, flinging him over my shoulder and carrying him back to my bed, where I toss him onto it. We’ll be here all day if I have anything to say about it. He looks up at me with wide eyes. “I can’t believe you just flung me around like that.”

I flex a little, grinning at him when he breaks out in laughter. I’m so fucking happy right now, and even him laughing at me isn’t going to take that away. “You’re in a great mood for a hungover man,” Darcy teases .

I all but jump onto the bed, climbing over him, and hovering above his body. “I’m a man in love, baby. And the man I love just told me he loves me too. It’s a good day. We should celebrate.”

Darcy’s smile grows. “You and your celebrations.”

I lean in, brushing my nose against his, loving the hitch in his breath. “Are you saying you don’t love a good celebration? I seem to recall you’ve found all of them satisfactory.”

He hums, trying to chase my lips, but I pull back. “What kind of celebration did you have in mind?”

Bracing myself with one hand, I use the other to cup his head and tilt it back. “I was thinking,” I murmur, dragging my lips down his throat, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses to his skin. “Something like this.”

A low moan echoes in his chest, making my heart fucking pound. “I’m good with something like this.”

I keep kissing his throat, covering every inch of him I can with my lips and tongue, nipping at his skin. He’s squirming, letting out little puffs of air that are so hot they’re basically melting my brain. I trail lower, kissing along his shoulder and collarbone, working my way down to his chest.

He groans, fingers tangling in my hair. “I thought you were going to kiss the shit out of me?”

“I am kissing you, baby.”

“Not what I meant,” he mumbles, tugging on my hair, trying to pull me up to his mouth.

I don’t let him. Instead, I settle my body on his, soaking in the warmth of his skin and the sharp breath he takes when our dicks grind against each other. Diving back in, I pepper more kisses along his neck .

Darcy makes a frustrated sound and before I can even process what’s happening, I’m on my back and Darcy is gripping my jaw and crashing his lips onto mine.

His weight presses me into the mattress as he grinds against me and basically devours me. Fuck. I love In Control Darcy. I bring my hands up to his ass, pulling him down harder as I thrust up against him.

His fingers tighten on my jaw, an almost feral sound leaving his lips as he works his tongue into my mouth. “This,” he says, pulling back just enough to nibble on my lower lip before sucking it quickly into his mouth. “ This is what I meant.”

“Fuck,” I breathe, already losing my mind. Is there anything he can’t do?

He kisses me again, frantic and deep, before raising off me entirely. I try to chase after him, but he holds me down with a firm hand on my chest. There’s a bit of an evil glint in his eyes and I’m not sure if it’s turning me on or terrifying.

He studies me for a second, his eyes shifting into something more soft, but not less heated. “Has anyone ever rimmed you before?”

My cock pulses against my stomach, drooling pre-cum. “No,” I croak.

“Can I?”

I mean, fuck yeah. I nod. He can do anything to me he wants. There’s nothing I won’t try for him. Except maybe topping. Fuck that. Unless he just really wanted it. Maybe I’d try it then, but only for him. It’s not what I need or want for me.

He lifts his hand from my chest. “Roll over.” His voice has taken on that deep edge that I love. A little husky and growly and ridiculously hot. I roll to my stomach, letting out a very manly squeak when he grips my hips and lifts my ass in the air .

It hasn’t gotten any less weird to have someone staring at my asshole, but hey, I’m doing my best to be cool about it. Darcy lets out an approving sound, and then he’s spreading my cheeks apart and licking across my hole. An almost unintelligible sound rips from my throat as a wave of pure fucking bliss washes through my body.

He does it again. It’s tentative at first, but then he’s groaning and he’s working his tongue inside me and his fingertips are digging into my skin and I’m shivering and shaking and moaning and whimpering.

Jesus fucking Christ.

A shiver wracks my body as he pulls away from me and lets go of my ass with one hand. His wet finger probes at my hole for a second before he pushes it inside me. My dick throbs, leaking onto the bed beneath me, and I’m seriously worried about keeping myself upright and not falling over.

He works his finger deeper, grazing my prostate. It’s only by sheer determination that I don’t come. It’s close, though, and I grip the sheets tightly, trying to keep control of myself. Why does this feel so fucking good? God, this man is fucking ruining me.

He pushes another wet finger inside me, curling them and hitting that spot just right. My stomach clenches, my thighs starting to shake. This is so fucking ridiculous. He does it again and I gasp, my fingers twisting in the sheets as lightning shoots up my spine. “Fuck, baby,” I pant. “Close. Closecloseclose .”

I can’t even be embarrassed by his low chuckle. Not when I feel this good. Not when my dick is throbbing and my body is tingling and trembling and everything feels too good to even be real.

Darcy hums, sounding pleased with himself, and then he’s pressing against my prostate again and I cry out, my cock jerking so hard that it actually hurts, and then fuck—I’m coming.

My breath punches out of my lungs in sharp pants as my orgasm rips through me—quick and fucking intense. Darcy doesn’t let up. He keeps working my prostate, even as my hole clenches around his fingers, dragging out the pleasure until I’m a twitching mess, my body riding the edge of overstimulation.

He pauses for a second and when I start to collapse against the bed, he pulls his fingers out and pushes them back in. I gasp, trembling when he presses a kiss to the small of my back.

Darcy hums against my skin, slowly—so fucking slowly—working his fingers in and out of me. “You’re shaking,” he whispers. “You can keep going for me, though, can’t you?”

The only answer is clearly yes, so I moan and rock back against his fingers. The feeling is almost painful in its intensity. “Perfect. So fucking perfect for me.” My cock gives a weak twitch. “You’ll come for me again, won’t you? Riding my fingers. Shaking and desperate.”

All I can manage is a whine.