Page 88 of Like a Power Play
“Can I take it off?” she asks, tugging at it.
I used to have dignity, right? Like, I cared what people thought, about me, about my career. But now, with Darcy pressed against me, her thigh grinding, her hands on my skin, her breath asking if she can take my bra off? Dignity’s dead.
All I want is her.
“You can do whatever you want.”
And that’s all Darcy needs to hear. Quickly, breathily, she pulls my shirt over my head. The mask begins to slip, but I’m not about to fuck this up by letting it, by betraying her trust. So I press it tight, maneuvering around the gaps as the clothes begin to fly off. Cold air rushes to my skin as she undresses me, but the heat of her against me is enough to wash it away.
“This is never happening again,” she says directly, as her fingers tug at the waistband of my pants. I lift my hips just enough for her to wriggle them down my body, taking my underwear along with them. The insides of my thighs streak with my arousal, and she tosses them both aside.
“Figure that one out on your own, did ya?” I parrot.
Darcy’s hands cup either side of my thighs as she slips her face between them. “I can’t wait to shut you up, Peyton,” she murmurs against my skin, scrubbing goosebumps down my legs. My hips buck involuntarily, which makes the next words to leave my mouth pointless.
“You’ll have to do a lot more than that,” I say, but it’s pretty much a moan. Darcy doesn’t respond. She simply smiles against me, causing my already quickened pulse to spike even faster.
Her breath brushes my swollen clit, and as my legs dangle over her shoulders, I realize, at some point, Darcy has stripped. Completely. Her breasts graze my thighs, her lips hover over mythrobbing heat. The knowledge that I’m blindfolded, that she’s naked forherself, ignites a desperate heat within me.
A gasp escapes me as her tongue flicks out, a hot, wet stroke that sends a jolt through my pussy. My fingers dig into the sheets, as the slick heat of her mouth traces circles around my clit. I moan.
“Fuck, Darcy.”
“I’m working on it,” she murmurs against my slick folds, amusement clear in her tone. I try to respond, to give her some witty remark like usual, but all that comes out is a strained whimper.
“Cat got your tongue?” she teases.
Before I can respond, her tongue plunges deeper, a hot, insistent probe that makes my hips buck. I feel the cut of her teeth, a delicious sharpness against my swollen clit, and my grip on the dusty, one-hundred-and-fifty thread count sheets tightens. The sound of her soft, wet lapping fills the room, and god, I wish I could watch her pretty face as she drags her tongue from my dripping entrance to the throbbing tip of my clit.
“God,” I breathe. Her head keeps moving in a methodical rhythm, side to side, and with every brush against that spot, my body tenses.
“So fucking wet,” she whispers, her voice a low growl against my cunt. I whimper as she takes one finger and swipes it up my slick center. That pressure, the feeling of her hand between my thighs, vanishes for a moment. I inhale sharply, heart pounding in my ears.
And then I hear it.
The quiet, deliberate suck of her mouth, the soft moan that rumbles in her throat. Not on me. On her finger. I listen, hips bucking helplessly, as Darcy savors every drop of my arousal.
Holy fuck.
I’ve had sex. A lot of sex. A lot of good, casual sex. But never in my life has someonelicked me off their fingers.And never in my life did I think I’d enjoy listening to Darcy do that very thing.
“Mmm…” she moans.
Fuuuuuuuuuck.
My chest heaves, coldness settling where her warmth used to be. “Please,” I groan desperately, releasing the sheets to find her body. “I need you.”
My palms land on her shoulders, then travel down until I reach her chest. The calloused pads of my fingers graze over her taut nipples, and I wonder what color they are. Pink, or peachy? Pale, or bright? I want to take off this blindfold. I want to devour every curve of her body with my eyes, memorize every freckle, fall in love with every color.
“Darcy,” I moan impatiently, body jolting desperately. Finally, her fingers dip back into me, slow, tentative, at first. Two fingertips tease my entrance, and an unbridled moan slips out, louder than before.
“Be quiet,” Darcy shoots. “Someone is going to hear you.”
My teeth sink into my lower lip as I try to bite back the next one, but when those fingers dive deeper into me, when they curl against the walls inside my body, the next one slips out before I knew it was coming. I feel Darcy’s body move against mine, her bare tits dragging up my skin. Her hand stays firmly in place, but now, even in the darkness of the blindfold, I know her face is only inches from mine.
“Are you going to be quiet, or do I need to make you?”
I shake my head, letting out a weak and breathy, “I’m going to be quiet.”
