Executive Engagement
“Mmm,” he moans. “Fuck, Lizzie…You’re like a bottle of expensive wine.”
Darcy sucks my clit into his mouth like he’s having a taste test and I moan. Loud. There’s no big, sexy billionaire hand to stifle the sounds Darcy draws out of me now. Nope. Not even close.
Darcy’s hands are occupied with grabbing my ass, pulling my pussy closer and closer against his lips and—oh fuck.
Teasing the tight little pucker of my asshole with his fingertips. WOW. I knew Darcy wasn’t any prude. You can tell that much just by looking at him. But as far as his improvisational skills go, I’m giving him full points. Flying colors.
And then, as his tongue slips into my pussy and starts fucking it like he means it, I give him—you guessed it—another orgasm. I come hard and fast without even expecting it.
It’s like sexual whiplash. My whole body is trembling. My knees are shaking. My nipples have gone so hard I’m not sure they’re ever going to get soft like, ever again.
“AAAH!” I scream before I can stop myself.
When I do stop myself, it’s not very well. I ride out the rest of the orgasm with my lower lip between my teeth, making tiny whimpers to accompany each wave.
“You come so beautifully, Lizzie,” Darcy breathes against my quivering pussy. “So beautifully… I’d like to see it again.”
“Darcy,” I warn him.
Ever the gentleman, Darcy shrugs my legs off his shoulders and pulls me right-side up once more. Now, I’m arguably even more helpless than I was upside down. His hands cradle my back as my thighs lower my body back onto his lap…
And there his cock is. Hard as ever. Harder even, maybe. Huge. Demanding. Slick with a gorgeous pearl of precum, his big, fat cockhead pushes first against my pussy, then against my ass.
“Yes, darling?” he asks, smug as hell.
“If you make me come like that again, every person in this whole fucking zip code is going to know about it.”
Darcy smiles wolfishly.
“Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”
“Maybe you should keep better track of your promises,” I counter.
Not because I don’t want it. I want it bad. I want to orgasm against Darcy’s tongue. I want to come around his cock. I want him to make me spasm and moan with his fingers while he plows my ass with that fucking weapon he calls a dick.
That’s not it.
And not because I don’t want anyone to hear me scream. Hell. I want everyone in the goddamn state to know how hard this man makes me orgasm. I’d like the president to be briefed on the situation. The Queen of England should receive an update. I want someone to alert the UN.
So that’s not it either.
At this point, it’s not even because I’m afraid of getting caught. If Catherine the Great and the other Bennet Babes haven’t caught us in the act yet, they’re probably too busy entertaining Wickham to give a single flying fuck about what Darcy and I might be getting up to.
Either that, or they’re listening at the door…and I can’t even pretend like that’s a turn-off. We Bennet Babes aren’t exactly novices in pleasure. We know what good fucking sounds like when we hear it.
The thing is, if Darcy makes me come again—like, literally even one more time—I’m going to lose it. Every ounce of control that I have will fly out the fucking window, and I don’t know if it will ever come back.
Which means that it’s time to shift gears. Take back a little power for myself…and distract that part of me that actually wants Darcy to go full-animal on my body like some kind of sex-crazed lunatic with something else it might want.
“And what promise might that be?” Darcy asks me, his interests obviously piqued.
I smile. “I vaguely recall a certain someone promising to fuck my mouth like it’s a second cunt…Unless, of course, you’re not into that anymore or—”
“Get on your fucking knees,” Darcy growls, slapping my ass.
I’m practically purring as he helps me descend safely to the floor.
Darcy’s dick is big. Like, the kind of big you’re not sure you’ll recover from. Honestly, I’m not sure I’ll ever want to. I’ve totally braced myself for it, too. It was big when I had my hand down his pants.