Darcy hummed as though she didn’t believe me, but as we rounded the corner, her attention snapped to our destination. “Oh! I’ve been wanting to check this place out. It’s supposed to be amazing.”
I relaxed as the conversation turned away from me and on to what the menu could look like in a place like this.
We were met at the door by the maître de and shown to a table toward the back, under fairy lights that cast a warm glow over wine glasses and cutlery.
“Beautiful,” Darcy muttered as she took her seat and craned her neck to look at the ceiling.
“Absolutely stunning,” I agreed, keeping my eyes on her. She dropped her gaze and flushed a pretty pink as she realized that she was my focus. The maître de returned with a wine list and menus, reciting the specials in an accent so thick I only caught every second word. I looked to Darcy, hoping she had followed what he said, but after pointing out a wine choice and thanking him, she widened her eyes at me in embarrassment. “I have no idea what he just said,” she whispered, covering her mouth in horror.
“Me neither,” I hissed back, grinning at the giggle that escaped from behind her hand.
She reached for her menu and I watched as her face fell. “The whole thing is in French. Oh god, I don’t think I can remember anything except how to count to ten.”
I shrugged. “Every time I try, I somehow end up finishing the counting in Italian. That’s also about all I remember of Italian.”
Darcy laughed. “I think we’re going to have to wing it here. I don’t know what any of it says, but French food is all delicious, right? I mean, what could go wrong?”
It turned out to be… interesting. After asking the maître de to choose two starters and two appetizers for us, we had ended up eating garlic snails with crusty bread, and duck pate. I never would have thought the snails would be my favorite of the two. After I resorted to laying down a dare to convince Darcy to use her tiny fork to pull the meat out of an actual snail shell, we both agreed that the garlic taste was amazing, and not at all as slimy as we had assumed it would be.
Our entrees were duck legs with a sticky orange kind of sauce that was quite well balanced, but by the time the waiter arrived to offer dessert, we had both agreed to Ben and Jerry’s back at Darcy’s apartment.
As soon as we made it back through the front door, Darcy sent her heels flying, careless of where they landed, and headed for the bedroom. “Ice cream is in the freezer. Sorry, but this date is getting into something more comfortable.”
Some men may have been upset that we weren’t immediately getting down and dirty now that our meal was finished, but I knew Darcy better than that. The fact she wanted to get comfortable meant she was used to having me in her space.
I loved that.
While she changed, I helped myself to a glass of water before retrieving two spoons and the tub of chocolate something or other and parking myself on her sofa. Her place screamed Darcy. Looking around, I saw small parts of her personality here and there. A Sports Illustrated on the coffee table. An autobiography tossed down on the end of the sofa. It made me think of the conversation we’d had five years ago. When she told me about her father.
The man had been mad for sports, and had handed the passion down to his only daughter. She had told me how, even when her father was dying of cancer, she’d watched every kind of sport with him. She told me her career choice was about honoring him.
My career choice had been about escaping a father I never wanted to see again. At one time in our history, I’d let Darcy believe that my father was dead. Mostly because I had wished it was the truth so vehemently. It was one of many stupid miscommunications that tore us apart when we were too young to know how to work through things.
Cody was right. We needed to communicate better this time around.
A soft shuffling announced Darcy’s return, and I broke out of my thoughts to see her in a loose tank top and yoga pants, her face freshly scrubbed and her hair loose around her shoulders.
“You’re beautiful,” I repeated the same thing I had told her when she was dressed up, and I meant it. What she was wearing was irrelevant, although I had to admit to a little admiration for the absence of a bra under her tank.
“Come here.”
She closed the distance, one deliberate step at a time until she was close enough to touch. “I want you,” I told her in the name of honesty. Reaching out, I ran a hand up the back of her thigh, giving her time to pull away.
“I want you too,” she said, taking the last step and straddling me, pushing me back into the sofa cushions with her small hands on my chest. A curse rolled out of me as she rocked her hips against my rapidly hardening crotch. Gripping her thighs, I encouraged her to move faster, and grind down on me until we were both panting. Needing to taste her, I gripped the back of her head, yanking her mouth to mine. We came together with a clash of teeth and tongues, desperation making us clumsy as each of us sought to consume the other. I thrust up into her as she rode me, and swallowed her whimpers as she started to wind tighter.
“I need to be inside you,” I panted, barely able to think past the rhythm she had set, and a little worried I’d finish earlier than I needed to. Darcy moaned in agreement. In a heartbeat, I swept her into my arms, not bothering to break contact, and walked us into her bedroom. Placing a knee on the mattress, I came down on top of her, my mouth working over her as I brought one hand up to play with her nipple. She groaned, arching into my touch as her fingers speared into my hair.
It occurred to me that I should slow down. We’d only been together once before, and that had been a lifetime ago. I should take my time, learn her again. Find out if the woman liked what the girl enjoyed. The thoughts passed through my head at the same time as my hips continued to thrust, the barrier of clothing between us making me growl in frustration. Next time, I decided. Next time we’ll go slow. Pulling away from her mouth, I trailed biting kisses down her neck, pausing briefly to nip at the side of her breast where I could see it peeking out of the arm hole of her tank, then I was nuzzling her ribs, her belly, her hips. Hooking my fingers into her yoga pants and panties, I drew them down her legs, momentarily dumbstruck at the sight of her naked flesh. With a small smile, as if she knew damn well what she did to me, Darcy pulled her feet the rest of the way out of the pants and slowly let her knees fall open.
New plan.
In a move that made her squeal in shock before the moaning started, I dropped to the mattress and yanked her lower body in toward my mouth. The first lick was perfection. Darcy’s fingers tightened in my hair as I devoured her pussy in ways I had fantasized about for years. Literally years. Her thighs tightened around my ears as I speared my tongue into her opening, pressing my nose to her clit to keep her squirming. I was surrounded by her. All of my senses alive and focused on bringing her as much pleasure as I could. Too soon, she screamed my name, her body going tight around me as she found her release. I lapped at her languidly as she came down, and as soon as her breathing evened out, I started in again, bringing her to another climax. Her thighs trembled in a satisfying way, and as I was about to try for a third, she yanked on my hair until I looked up into those satisfied eyes. Raising a brow at her, I kept eye contact as I leaned in and gave her another long lick.
“Get up here, Bryson,” she growled half-heartedly as her body shuddered. With a put-out sigh, I placed a chaste kiss on her mound before pulling myself up her body.
“Yes?” I asked, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand before pecking a kiss on her lips.
“Lose the pants before I can’t move at all,” she said with a wry smile.
