Darcy's Adventures 01 free porn video

With her errands completed, Darcy pushed through the door of the woodworker’s shop on High Street. It was a small space, displaying only a few of the pieces Cooper had created, and was dominated by a long counter stacked with binders full of drawings showcasing the work he was capable of. Darcy knew his actual workshop was out back, and everything he created was made to order.

“Well, hello, Darcy. How are you today?” The clerk greeted her.

“I’m fine and healthy, and hope you are as well, Lanie. How’s your husband and the kids?”

“Pushing me to the edge of patience, as always,” Lanie answered with a laugh. “But life would be nothing without them, so all I can do is escape the house for a few hours when I can, and come to work.”

“And let others test your patience,” Darcy commented good-humoredly.

“Oh, they can try.” Smiling, Lanie took one of the binders, moved it under the counter. “Have you come to check on those decorative flowerboxes your father ordered, then?

Darcy turned from where she’d been eyeing a beautiful chest of drawers. “Yes, I have. He’s hoping they might be ready to be put in the gardens before the masquerade ball.”

“I believe they’re almost ready. And looking awfully pretty, if I may say. It’s a nice design you came up with there. But go on through, and see for yourself.” Lanie gestured toward the door in the wall behind her. “Cooper’s out back in his workshop. You know the way.”

“Thank you, Lanie.” With a wistful little sigh, Darcy resisted the urge to purchase the dresser, and walked behind the counter. She didn’t have the space for it anyway, she told herself as she opened the back door.

“Tell Cooper not to worry, I’ll close the store. It’s about that time anyway.” Winking, Lanie put away another binder.

Darcy grinned and, with a wave over her shoulder, stepped outside.

A few yards of hard-packed dirt separated the shop from his workspace. Once a barn, the building now boasted several large windows to bring in the light. The second story hayloft had been converted into Cooper’s apartment, Darcy knew, with stairs leading up to a porch you could access from the entrance door and living room.

Remembering a pleasant evening spent on that porch, Darcy crossed the dirt walkway, stepped up to a window, peeked through. Saw him standing by a workbench, his broad back turned to her. For a moment, she simply watched him, the smooth motion of his hands and arms, the precision of those long, strong fingers as they slid over the wood, checking for imperfections. She knew them to be as skilled at pleasing a woman as working the wood.

A pleasant tingle spread through her loins as she lifted a hand, knocked on the glass. When he turned, saw her, he smiled, waved for her to come in.

An attractive man about a decade older than her own twenty-six, Cooper was an extremely skilled lover. Why some lucky woman hadn’t snatched him up yet, Darcy didn’t know.

But she wasn’t complaining.

“Lanie told me I could find you here,” she said as she closed the door behind her. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“You know I don’t mind being interrupted by a pretty woman.” His smile was slow, warm, and just a little wicked. His hazel eyes swirled with a hint of arousal as he studied her.

And Darcy knew he would be willing.

Playfulness curving the corners of her mouth, she walked over to him. There was an area sectioned off for materials, another for finished products and works in progress. The building smelled of wood and oil, and sawdust danced in the air.

When she reached the workbench, she looked down, trailed a finger over the piece. “What are you working on?”

He stepped a little closer, leaning over her so his breath tickled her neck. The Vintner’s Cellar tavern is in need of a new bar. They hired me to build it. That’s one of the decorative pieces that’ll span the top.”

She could see it now, the outline of grapes and leaves on the wood. He must have been carving when she arrived. “It’ll be beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you.”

She felt the outline of his hard cock pressing into her lower back. Smiling, she turned her head, bringing her lips within a breath of his. Then took a step away, examined another piece.

Oh yes, he was willing, she mused. And ready. But she was in a mood to take her time, to enjoy the slow build-up of anticipation. To tease him, to play with him for a while.

He wasn’t only skilled, but patient. And she had plans to take full advantage of that attribute.

Chuckling, for he enjoyed her playful side, Cooper gently wiped the extra shavings off the wood he had been working on. “Would you like to see your flowerboxes, then? They’re almost done. Just need another coat of paint. I can take a break for a few minutes and show you.”

Glancing up at him, she pursed her lips. “I think I’d rather watch you work. If you don’t mind, that is. I can check on the flowerboxes later.”

He shrugged, picked up his tools, began carving once more. Simply enjoyed the company of a pretty woman while he worked. He figured Darcy would let him know when she was ready. And he was in no rush.

Noting the concentration on his face, she wondered what it would take to distract him, how much she’d be able to do to him until his focus was divided too much. Then decided it would be fun to find out. Slowly, she moved around the workbench, stopped when she was once again next to him.

Turning to face him, she ran a hand over his arm. He stood easily a head taller than her, with a thick body that lacked refined definition of muscle, but was nevertheless hard and strong.

Appreciating it, she let her hand roam over his chest, down to his abs, then back up once more. Noted that he never looked up from his work, didn’t move away from her touch.

So, he would let her play, Darcy mused, groin tingling at the thought. And she was more than ready to begin. Head turned toward the workbench, she slid her hand under his simple cotton shirt, enjoyed the feel of warm flesh under her palm. Then trailed her fingers over his stomach, up to his chest.

Teasingly, she brushed over his nipple, stroked it until it hardened under her thumb. His breathing grew deeper, but his hands never hesitated in their work. Her lips curved. Not so easily distracted, she noted. And moved her hand back down, down, until the flat of her palm slid over the hard shaft underneath his breeches from the tip to the base.

He sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers stalling briefly before they returned to work.

Smiling, she softly cupped his balls, then gently, very lightly, teased his cock through the fabric with her fingertips. It was fun, watching him work, the feel of wool and the hot, throbbing shaft underneath it against her fingertips. More fun, because he continued carving, stayed focused on his work, despite the distraction.

Her nipples hardened as she brushed them against his arm, and she withdrew her hand to lower her shirt to roll them between her fingers. Saw him glance over briefly, then lower his eyes to the table once more.

Deciding it was time to up the game, she reached for the laces of his pants, slowly, teasingly untied them. Then slid her hand underneath the cotton to wrap around the throbbing hardness with a tight, firm grip.

This time, he sucked in a few deep breaths, rested his hands on the table.

But he was determined to play the game as well as she.

And he was rather much enjoying her attention, he had to admit. Closing his eyes, he waited for his breathing to even, then lifted his tools once more.

Impressed, Darcy gave his shaft a few squeezes while she looked around his workspace. It was obvious he’d let her have some fun for a while, but she had no mind to make it too easy for him. Eyes twinkling when she spotted a bottle of oil, she walked over to get it, returned. Saw his eyes flicker to the bottle, then meet hers.

Amusement played around his mouth as he cocked a brow at her, held up the board he’d been carving. “I don’t think this wood’s quite ready for that yet.”

Darcy gave him a sly smile. “I believe the piece I’m working on is.”

Chuckling, he blew out air, wondered if he should pick up a new piece of wood, so he wouldn’t ruin his work if he messed up. Then decided it would be more interesting to test himself. Nodding slowly, he returned to work.

For a moment, Darcy thought he would give in, leave his work to focus on his pleasure. She wouldn’t have minded, would have still enjoyed herself. But it was hotter, so much hotter to simply keep him highly aroused while he was working.

Since she didn’t want to be restricted, she slowly slid his breeches over his hips, let them drop to the floor. Waited for him to step out of them. Then, nudging them out of the way with her foot, poured a generous amount of oil onto her palm.

Teasingly, she spent a moment simply watching him, holding her hand a hair away from the quivering shaft. Watched the muscles of his ass contract as he fought the urge to push himself against her.

Then, suddenly, she wrapped her hand around the thick head and gave him a few fast, hard strokes from tip to base. His hips jerked forward before he could catch himself, his fingers clenching around the tools in his hands with an iron grip. Just as suddenly, she released him, leaving him throbbing in the wake.

Groaning, he shot her a look when she laughed in wicked delight. “You sure know how to interrupt a man’s work.”

Darcy merely lifted a shoulder, let it fall. Fluttered her lashes at him innocently.

Shaking his head, he let out a short laugh, picked up the wood once more. Although, he admitted, it was more to please her, for he doubted he’d get much more done.

Fun as it had been, that quick flash of lust blazing from him, Darcy knew she’d better pace herself if she wanted this to last a little while. He was patient, true, but if she teased him too quickly, too intensely, he was bound to move on to the next stage before soon.

She ran her tongue over her lip as she trailed a finger over his flank. Chuckled wickedly when she saw his cock jerk in response. But, this time, he was braced for her, and managed to continue carving when she slowly, finger by finger, wrapped her hand around his shaft once more.

She noticed his nostrils flaring, his lungs expanding as his breathing deepened. Felt the hot flesh throb and quiver under her palm, bracing, anticipating her next move.

She simply held him, fingers firm but still around the pulsing cock while her other hand lifted his shirt. Brought her mouth down to suck on his nipple, flick her tongue over the small, hard bud. A delighted laugh bubbled from her throat against his skin when she felt his cock throbbing even harder under her palm in response.

She gripped his shaft tighter, gently nipped at his nipple, fluttered her tongue back over it. Yet held her hand motionless. Saw his flanks contract, tiny little spasms, evidencing his need. But he didn’t move, waited patiently for whatever she had in mind.

Drawing back, she released his nipple, let the shirt fall back into place.

Then slowly, slowly, began sliding her oiled hand over the rigid shaft.

His flanks quivered, and he paused in his work. But she only continued her gentle stroking to give him time to adjust. When he began carving once more, she lightly increased the pressure of her grip, let her hand catch on the flare of his cock before gliding over the head. Then used one long stroke to slide all the way to the base of the thick shaft, giving it a few squeezes before travelling up again to repeat the process.

She used long, deliberate strokes, slow and steady, rotating her hand back and forth as far as she could, stimulating the sensitive spot under the crown of his head with her thumb. Felt every pulse and ripple under her palm.

Pausing, he took long, deep breaths, but they remained even as she slowly stroked him, and she was amazed to find that, after a few moments, he continued working—focused, and with his usual skill.

Oh yes, his control was incredibly hot. The tingling in her loins increased until her clit matched the throbbing of the steel-hard flesh in her hand. Her own breathing deepened as she watched his hands carve out another grape, felt him grow even harder under her palm. Leaning into him, she brushed her nipples over his arm, enjoyed the sensation of his shirt rubbing against her naked flesh.

Carefully, carefully, she increased the pace of her strokes, wanting to arouse him further, but not enough to distract him from his work.

His hands stalled when his cock quivered once, then again, under her palm. And he closed his eyes, let out a low moan. Then opened them once more, and resumed carving.

Impressed, Darcy smiled, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. She wanted to taste him, to feel that thick, throbbing shaft pulse in her mouth. But not quite yet. Bringing her other hand down, she gently massaged his balls, increased the speed of her strokes. Then began alternating between quick, short strokes over his head, and slow, rotating ones along his whole length.

He had a harder time concentrating now, she noted as his hands paused, resumed their work, then paused again. His breathing grew deeper, faster. His eyes were closing on another moan from time to time before he focused on the piece of wood once more.

She felt him grow thicker, harder in her hand, the throbbing now a steady beat against her palm. Felt a trickle of moisture escape her own heated tunnel to trail down her upper thigh. His control was arousing, so arousing, she thought, mesmerized as she watched another leaf take shape in the wood. And she felt wicked, and just a little powerful, whenever he had to stop and take a moment to compose himself.

“You do have incredibly talented hands.” Her voice was low and husky with desire.

Pausing once more, he turned his head to look at her. “Yours are rather clever as well.”

The need, the lust swirling in his eyes had her belly fluttering with anticipation. Deciding this was all the teasing she, herself, could handle, she firmed her grip and began sliding over him with rapid strokes, rotating her hand, and squeezing the shaft in a fluttering motion while she worked him.

The tools hit the workbench with a clang as his hands slammed down to brace himself. He sucked in a breath, then another. Let out a long, low moan. His stomach muscles contracted, quivered, then contracted again, his heart beating wildly in his chest as he fought for control.

She felt him grow, grow, thicker, harder, felt his head swell, her hand catching hard on the crown as it slid over it. Releasing his balls, her other hand travelled further back between his legs, found that sensitive spot behind them, and applied pressure to it.

His whole body tensed, his breath came in short bursts, and she knew it would be only moments before he found his release. Not willing to end things so soon, she gave him a few more hard strokes, then released the hot, pulsing flesh, withdrew her other hand as well.

The groan that escaped him this time sounded more like a growl, and was full of frustration. Hands gripped so tightly around his tools they threatened to break the handles, he turned and fixed Darcy with a heated glare.

Her lips twitched, and she held out her hands, palms up, let them fall. “Thought you might want to get your hands on something softer for a while.” She said it lightly, but the desire burning in his eyes sent a shockwave of lust straight to her loins.

Her tongue darted out once more to trace over her lips. Her pulse fluttered wildly in her throat when he slowly turned.

Then he grabbed her arm, yanked her against him, and his mouth crushed down on hers. His hand cupped the back of her neck firmly, the kiss hot and hungry, wild and demanding. It lasted only seconds, but the simmering between her legs erupted into blazing heat.

Roughly, he spun her around, planted his hands on her hips to yank her back against his groin. His hard cock pressed burning hot against her lower back. His lips traced over the back of her neck, biting at the tender flesh on the side one moment, then nibbling on her earlobe the next.

She let out a moan as his hands travelled over her body, up, up, until they cupped her breasts. His thumbs, rough and calloused, brushed over her nipples, sending little sparks of pleasure straight to her core. She closed her eyes when he rolled them between his fingers. Then sucked in a breath when he softly pinched, then squeezed the hard buds with more and more pressure, leaving her hovering right on the edge of pleasure and pain.

Arching her back, she pressed her butt into his hard shaft when his teeth nipped on her earlobe, his thumbs fluttering over her nipples lightly. She thought she’d burn up with need if he didn’t fill her soon.

But it was his turn to play, and he enjoyed the game as much as she.

Releasing her nipples, he loosened the laces on her skirt, stepped back.

Waited.

Then yanked the skirt down her hips with one hard pull.

Slowly, he lowered himself to his knees behind her, felt her shiver with anticipation as his lips brushed, barely brushed over the flesh of her upper thigh.

Suppressing a whimper, she arched her back further, inviting, begging him to touch her throbbing center. But he only chuckled, his breath a whisper on her thigh. And brought his large palm down on the mound of her butt with a firm smack.

Knowing he was in charge now, she stilled her hips, felt the tip of his tongue touch, just barely touch her moist opening. Then it withdrew, came up to rest softly against her pulsing clit. When she wiggled once more, trying to create some friction, his other hand came down on her butt, harder this time, causing her to suck in a sharp breath.

It rushed out on a moan when his tongue flicked a few feather-light strokes over her clit.

A moment later it left, trailing slowly down one side of her folds, and up the other. Teasing her, daring her to move, his tongue drew lazy circles around her clit, then firmly rested flat against the bud once more.

A minute passed, then another. Her clit steadily pulsed against his tongue.

Bottom lip caught between her teeth, Darcy held her breath, tried to fight the urge to move herself against him. Suppressed a groan when he withdrew.

Then let out another soft moan when the tip of his tongue darted in and out of her moist tunnel with short, rapid strokes.

When she couldn’t help but push back against him, his mouth moved away completely, and he simply trailed his rough, calloused fingertips over her thighs. It was maddening, this torturous teasing, she thought, her hands curling around the edge of the workbench to prevent from grabbing his head.

Squirming, she heard him chuckle. Then his tongue returned, flat and wide, dragging from the bottom of her opening all the way up past her clit. Pausing a moment, his mouth hovered a hair away from her, his breath a gentle, tormenting brush over her clit.

Still, she waited, motionless, so he gave the hardened bud one, then another, and another slow, hard flicks. Her breath caught each time his tongue caught on her clit, the sparks emanating from it causing her moist tunnel’s walls to contract sharply.

Then he trailed back down, lapped greedily at the moisture flowing from her, leaving her clit pulsing with need. His mouth travelled further down, lips trailing over her inner thigh, before he pulled back, simply watched her.

Clenching her butt, she tried to stimulate herself, earned another hard smack. Suppressed a growl of frustration.

Suddenly, two fingers plunged inside of her, hard and fast, and without warning, causing her hips to surge forward, her eyes to fly open in shock.

She threw back her head in pleasure, drove herself back onto him as he roughly moved in and out, scissoring, twisting, curling. Almost screamed when he pulled his fingers out. The sound coming from her throat was pure desperation when he did nothing, nothing at all for a minute, then two.

Then, all of a sudden, his tongue was back, resting flat and quiet against her throbbing clit once more. Grinding her teeth, she fought to stay still, her whole body quivering with the effort. And was rewarded when his tongue began to move. Slowly at first, circling around her clit, then on it, then around it once more.

It darted forward a few times to tap the hardened bud lightly, then resumed its slow circling. She shuddered, whimpered, prayed for him to increase the pressure. Sucked in a breath when he did—flicking it firmly, up and down, and side to side. This time, he continued for a while, his movements incredibly slow but firm. And focused only on the most sensitive part of her clit.

It felt amazing, the rest of her body near numb, all her attention honed to such a tiny spot, the pleasure radiating from it. Finally, she mused, he was done teasing.

Then nearly snarled when the motion stopped again, his tongue once more resting against her pulsing clit. He was bound to drive her mad with need, she thought, when he began alternating between lightning-quick licks and simply resting his tongue against her bud with firm pressure.

She debated grabbing him when his head pulled back, but he placed his hands on her hips to turn her around.

And his mouth came forward, his tongue found her clit again. This time, from the front.

And this time, he showed her no mercy. It moved over her wildly, lightning-fast with just the right pressure. Flat, then pointed, flicking, circling, tapping the hardened bud. She could feel her pleasure building, rising, her whole body tensing as she let out a long, drawn-out moan.

Her hands came down to caress his head as her eyes rolled back in her head, her legs began to tremble. She was near, so near, the pleasure now a hot ball radiating from her center, spreading throughout her body. She knew her release was only moments away.

And he stopped.

Flat and wide, his tongue simply rested against her throbbing clit once more, causing her to grind herself against him in frustration. He only chuckled, the sound vibrating pleasurably against her heated core. Then, after a few more flicks, he withdrew completely.

Face scrunched, she glared at him as he rose, debated on using her own fingers to finish herself off. But she had to admit she rather much enjoyed this steady thrumming of pure arousal, enjoyed not being able to predict his next move.

He stepped closer, closer, until their bodies pressed against each other, forcing her to tilt back her head to look up at him. Saw his own heated desire reflected in her eyes. Oh yes, she was good and ready, he mused, his own loins near painfully tight. And yet, he wasn’t quite finished playing.

Slowly, he turned her back around, pulled her back against his groin. Standing behind her, his hands slid over the curve of her hip, then down to cup her most, heated core.

She felt two fingers part her folds, then a third brushed lightly over her clit. His teeth nipped at her neck, her throat, her ear as he slowly increased the speed, the pressure of his strokes on the sensitive bud.

Moaning, she closed her eyes when his finger proved to be as skillful as his tongue—circling, tapping, moving up and down and side to side rapidly and with just the right amount of pressure. Her moist tunnel clenched, contracted, yearning to be filled when he moved the finger up, stimulated the stem of her clit with slow, long strokes. She felt her pleasure rise once more, her muscles tensing.

And the finger slowed. Brushed lightly, very lightly over the center of her clit—once. Then hovered. Then one more brush. And hovered again.

Whimpering, she rotated her hips, rubbing against the rock-hard shaft behind her, trying to drive his need, to make him lose control. Inhaled sharply when his free hand squeezed her nipple, harder, harder, until she stilled her hips.

A breath shuddered out of her when he released her nipple. Then she instantly drew it back in when the finger on her clit began fluttering over her once more. Mercilessly, he brought her back to the edge of release. Just to pause, withdraw, and tease her with the occasional brush yet again.

Just as she thought she could handle it no more, he turned her around, grabbed her waist, and lifted her onto the table. His hands slid up her body, cupped her breasts. His thumbs stroked gently over her nipples. She cursed his smug smile when he pushed her upper body down, wondering what he’d do next.

Slowly, playfully, his hands slid down her body to rest on her inner thighs. She felt his thumbs brush over her skin, the touch so light, so tender. Then his fingers dug in, and roughly shoved her legs apart.

The breath whooshed out of her lungs as two thick fingers drove inside of her, sliding in and out with rough, hard strokes. Gripping him tightly with her walls, she relished the delicious friction, the force of his strokes.

Yet, all too soon, he stilled his fingers, merely drummed them inside of her softly. Determined to play the game as well as he, she resisted the urge to rock her hips, fluttered her muscles around him instead.

And he began to gently stimulate her again.

Her moans came steady now as she felt his tongue return to her clit, and slowly, slowly move over it. His fingers slid in and out of her, curling, rotating, scissoring. Softly, tenderly, creating the most delightful sensations.

With only the gentlest stimulation, he slowly brought her to the edge once more. Her walls gripped his fingers, tightening, releasing, tightening in faster and faster succession. Her breathing grew shallow, her heart hammered wildly in her chest. Arching her back, her hips rose up to meet him as her pleasure built, built, until she hovered, hovered right at the brink of release.

One harder flick of his tongue, one rough shove of his fingers would push her over the edge. But he simply kept her there, floating on pure pleasure, until she thought her mind would explode with it. Her fingers dug into his arms, urging him to finish it, to relieve this pent-up pressure.

He only chuckled, and continued the gentle and steady stimulation.

Her vision blurred as her pulse leapt to roar in her spinning head. She was just about to scream at him, to beg, to plead—anything to make him send her over the edge. When she felt his fingers pull out sharply, his tongue leave her clit.

Before she had time to protest, he grabbed her wrists, pulled her up, spun her around, and shoved her upper body back down, leaving her bent over the table.

And, with one hard thrust, drove himself to the hilt inside of her.

This time, she did scream, the sound a mixture of shock and pure pleasure as her moist tunnel was forced open, stretching wide around his hot, thick shaft. She had only a moment to recover before he pulled back, hovered with the tip barely inside of her. Then shoved forward again.

When he grabbed her hips, began to pound her with long, powerful strokes, she exploded. Her eyes rolled back, her whole body shook as her walls clamped tight around him, squeezing him with almost painful force. Intense pleasure shot out from her core, sparked all the way to her fingertips and toes.

But he wouldn’t let up. Stroke after stroke, he forced himself through her clenching muscles until the pleasure became almost too much to bear. Gasping for air, she reached back, dug her fingers into his hip, willing him to slow, to let her catch her breath.

In answer, he surged forward even harder, continued driving himself into her with punishing strokes. Deep and hard, his hips thrust forward, forcing her muscles to keep stretching, to yield.

Rearing up, she gasped, whimpered, tried to ease the overwhelming sensations.

But her hips were caught between him and the table, so there was no escaping his thick, throbbing girth.

Stars sparkled in front of her eyes as his cock slid over her hypersensitive clit with every brutal stroke when he shifted the angle of his hips. And, without warning, she crested again. Longer, even harder than before, until she thought she’d pass out from the pleasure.

Throwing back her head, she let out a short scream, felt her leg muscles trembling, her knees buckling. Then the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding rushed out of her lungs, and her upper body collapsed onto the table. If it wasn’t for his arm encircling her waist to support her, she would have sunk to the floor in a boneless heap.

This time, he did slow, then paused, sheathed deep inside of her. Waited for the shudders, the last spasms to calm. When her breaths came less labored, he slowly, gently began rocking back and forth once more.

She sucked in a breath, and her hand shot back to grip his thigh. But he didn’t speed up, didn’t increase the force of his strokes, so she relaxed her fingers, caressed his thigh. Still, her walls clung to him, gripping his shaft like a vise. Her nerves, still highly sensitive, tingled and sparked as the hot flesh slid through her wet tunnel.

She could feel every ridge, every bump as he forced her muscles to stretch whenever he bore down, felt the crown of his head catch on her entrance whenever he pulled back. Slowly, her heart rate settled, her breathing calmed. The sharp sparks of pleasure quieted, were soon replaced by a pleasant thrumming instead.

When her walls relaxed around him, he increased his pace, using smooth, long strokes this time instead of brutal thrusts.

Pushing up, she tested her legs, then leaned back against him. Let out a moan when his fingers found her nipples, rolled them gently between them. Then one of his hands slid lower to softly trace over the stem of her clit, careful to avoid the over-sensitive center of the bud itself.

To her surprise, the soft stimulation coupled with the throbbing flesh sliding in and out of her with smooth, even strokes soon had her pleasure rising again. Craving more, she pushed her hips back against him, encouraging him to go faster, harder.

And felt his teeth clamp down on her neck, firmly, then more forcefully until she stilled once more. His pace remained steady—not too fast, not too slow—and the finger between her legs began to draw lazy circles around her clit.

She fought the urge to squirm, to beg him to increase the stimulation, knowing he would not be swayed. His slow movements had her burning with need, made her even more aware of every thick inch as it glided through her tight walls.

Then his finger brushed over her clit, once, then again, and again, with no predictable rhythm, causing her hips to flex in response. Lower lip caught between her teeth, she forced herself to remain still, to not slam herself against him to finish both of them off.

And was rewarded when his finger began to flutter over her clit with rapid, feather-light strokes. Once more, she felt her pleasure rising, yet softly and steadily unlike the manic rush before. Her walls contracted, quivered around his hot shaft. She felt it harden in response, stretching her further and further.

Then she peaked, gently this time, her clit throbbing softly under his finger. Her pleasure ebbed for a moment before rising once more until she peaked again. Wave after wave of tiny, gentle orgasms rippled through her and over his shaft, and she felt him swell and quiver in response.

Still, he continued sliding in and out of her, his finger light as wings on her clit. Light-headed from the sensations, her breaths came in short gasps as the final wave washed over her—another strong release that left her whole body trembling.

He didn’t pause, but didn’t increase the force of his thrusts to hurry his own release either. He simply continued his slow, long strokes, impossibly swollen and hard now. And she worried he would never finish this way.

Just when she thought she could take no more, he released her clit, grabbed her by the hips, and pulled her tightly against him.

And—bedded deep inside of her—he followed her over the edge with a powerful release.

Spurt after spurt rushed through the rigid shaft, the thick flesh pulsing and flexing inside of her sensitive tunnel. Sharp sparks of pleasure shot from her core through her body with every added stretch, had her whole body jerking. Drawn-out by the long, playful teasing, the slow, gentle thrusts that had brought it on, his release seemed to last forever. Deep moans rumbled from his chest, sent pleasurable little shivers down her spine.

Then, finally, he was spent, and rested quietly inside of her. His lips softly nuzzled her neck as her walls fluttered, then closed around him.

A moment later, he pulled out, causing her to suck in a sharp breath.

Sated and satisfied, legs still trembling, Darcy turned around, rested her hips against the workbench. Watched him retrieve his breeches, pull them back on.

Smiling contentedly, he gestured to the door. “Ready to see your flower boxes now?”

“What flower boxes?” she asked good-humoredly, feeling entirely too lazy and relaxed to move.

Cooper only chuckled, shook his head. And picked up his tools once more.