Page 100 of Double Puck

"Fuck, yes," she gasps. "More. More!"

I rise as blood pounds through every vessel, gathering at my cock, which stands angry and needy between us. I grab myself, lining up without warning. Just the head, teasing her entrance, letting her feel what's coming.

"Look at me," I command, grabbing a fistful of hair.

She twists her neck, and our eyes lock.

"I want you to watch what you do to me."

Her answer is a whimper and a push backward. I line myself up. She's ready—God, she's so ready—and I push into her in one deep stroke.

Her back arches and that sweet mouth falls open as I fuck her hard and fast. Instantly, the desk moves and squeaks beneath us. Papers scatter everywhere, probably papers with my fucking name on them.

My hands grip her hips hard enough to bruise, and I don't care, because she's taking everything I'm giving and asking for more.

"Take it," I growl. "Take all of it."

Her body clenches around me, and I feel myself getting close faster than I wanted. I pull out before I can finish, spin her around, and take myself in my hand. Darcy watches me stroke my cock twice, three times, and then I'm coming down her throat, watching her catch every last drop.

And then it's over.

The room goes quiet except for our breathing.

I lift her up. She's shaking, or maybe I am, and I pull her against my chest, wrap my arms around her, and just hold on.

She buries her face in my neck. Her fingers curl into my shirt.

And I don't say anything. I don't make a joke. I don't ask about the trade deadline or any of the things I should be asking.

I just hold her.

And slowly, with her warm body tucked against mine and her fingers curled into my shirt, I feel the tension finally bleed out of me for the first time since I walked into this building this morning.

My breathing settles. My muscles unclench.

Even that fucking knot between my shoulders that's been there since somebody froze my bad pass on a sixty-foot screen this morning seems to disappear beneath the weight of her against my chest.

That's when it hits me.

I didn't come here because I needed a release.

I came here because I needed Darcy.

"We destroyed your office," I murmur into her hair.

She lifts her head from my chest and surveys the damage. Papers are fanned out across the floor everywhere. Her desk chair is shoved into the filing cabinet on the back wall, and a bright pink pen cup on its side, rolling lazily toward the edge.

"You destroyed my underwear."

"That was already happening before I got involved. That G-string was barely surviving on its own."

She swats my chest, but she's smiling. I catch her hand before she can pull it away and press my mouth to her knuckles.

She watches me do it, then Darcy Madden does what Darcy Madden always does. What her parents taught her to do. What's expected of her.

She straightens up.

She tugs her trousers back into place, smooths her blouse, and tucks her hair behind both ears like she's resetting a clock. I lean against the desk and watch her work, arms crossed, grinning like the idiot I absolutely am.